A Tale of Two, Excerpt 4

Caroline Smith

152 Country Lane

Alpena, Michigan, America

August 25, 1892

Beloved Caroline,

Thank you for your letters. Thank you for remembering me. I am preparing to cross the great Atlantic Ocean so I may join you and your family in Michigan. There is no need for your father to travel such a distance to New York to retrieve me. I have more than enough for the full journey.

Mother passed shortly after you left for America, and Father passed earlier this month. Mildred was wed yesterday; it was in Father’s will for her to marry, to celebrate his death by taking vows he took years ago rather than mourn him and put it off forever. William and Mildred are wonderful together, and so happy. Looking at them makes me yearn to be near you again.

There is nothing I want here, so I have given the physical assets of my inheritance to Mildred and William as a wedding gift. Mildred wants to live in London and raise her children as we were raised in the same house, so the estate will stay in the family for some time. William would be foolish to go against her on this.

I kept the rest of my inheritance for the journey to America and to start a comfortable life there. Perhaps I will start my own business as my father did here. Mildred insists I stay a while longer; I must comply, in large part because my boat to America doesn’t depart for a week. Granted, by the time you receive this, I will be on my way.

Be sure to tell John to shape up or I’ll have to crack down on him. Tell Marie I’ll give her a story twice a day when I arrive, and thank your parents for their thoughtfulness. As for you, Caroline, I love you. I have since the day I saw you in the market. Now I’m following my heart, for it’s gone to America. I ask a favor of you: don’t promise yourself to anyone as of yet.

If I could, I would appreciate staying with your family until I have my own home. Please also tell your father that I will gladly take the farmhand job, if it’s still available, until I know what I’ll do longer-term for income. Father taught me never to fear hard work.

Oh, Meagan married in May, before Mother’s death, to a British gentleman. And she is with child, a fact of which she is very proud. She wishes Mildred to hurry and join her in expecting a child so their children can grow up together. There is never a dull moment here it seems, nor in America from the sound of your writing.

I shall hope to see you again soon. Until then, I send my love to you.

Josef Calloway

1325 Queens Avenue

London, England

A Tale of Two, Excerpt 3

Josef Calloway

1325 Queens Avenue

London, England

July 20, 1892

My dearest Josef,

I realize it has been a long while since last I have written. I am dearly sorry. It has not been easy. John has been difficult, but Father has promised him a more canvas and some paints if he helps with the chores. We own 500 acres of land. It was more expensive than rumor, but we are living on some of the most fertile land available. Father hopes to purchase another 500 acres in the next year.

Our new home was finished last week. Father recruited some men from the nearby town to help. He initially sought John’s help, but then conceded for most of the construction. John was pleased and spent time drawing the lake animals he sees. The folk in town have warned us winter is fierce this far north. Mother started working as a seamstress so she could afford fabrics for winter clothing. Father has found work in odd jobs and as a farmhand to our neighbor in the east. It is too late in the season for summer crops and too early for winter crops, so these jobs shall support us. I am aiding with the income, working as a maid to a wealthier couple in town. Mother insists I stop, but their wages combined are not near enough to cover the price of food and clothing, John and Marie are growing out of everything they own. Father makes one dollar and fifty cents (the American currency) a day, plus whatever he is paid for odd jobs; Mother makes seventy-five cents a day. Both work every day.

Marie has taken to playing by the lake with John. You should see them. Both have skin as tan as the Indians. Mother says it is a sign of good health and youth. She wishes she could stay in the sun all day instead of work in the musty shop of Madame Coutier. She is French, but one of the best seamstresses I have ever seen. She works quickly and accurately. Mother struggles to keep up.

Father still wishes you join us. He says there is room for another at Mr. McGreggor’s farm, should you be interested; I know it is different work than to which you’re accustomed. John says he is too creative and young to work right now, but Father encourages him to take up an apprenticeship in the spring.

John ignores Father when he tries to show him skills and trades. He would rather be a boy the rest of his life than do any work. Mother is too exasperated with him to begin to point out what we have been through and what he must do to help. I have tried many times and failed. John only wants to paint and write and play. Father is worried he will amount to nothing, never marry, and live at home forever under the protection of Mother and him. He fears most for when he and Mother pass to the heavens and John is still acting like a boy. I know from the way his brow furrows at supper this troubles him greatly, and from the way he glances at me, that I am his hope for John. That if they should leave the earth I should take care of him, but he is too polite to impose. Marie also knows he is worried about John, but John refuses to think anything of it. He is convinced Father hates him. I fear this shall become true if he does not come out of his conceited dream. He is not aware of it, but he is destroying us in this new land.

Marie is learning to sew. Most nights, Mother is too exhausted to show her, so I teach her as I was taught. I am tired when night falls, but her energy and eagerness to learn is enough to keep me up for hours teaching her on scrap cloth. Mother is impressed, I can tell by the way she beams in the candlelight the next morning looking over Marie’s work. I am pleased as well. Neither of us knew how quickly Marie would learn; she will best me before long.

My work is hard, but I am paid well. Fifty cents a day, in fact. I work from sunup to sundown, nearly twelve hours a day. And when the lady, Mrs. Johnson, has her child, I will have to stay nights to tend to it. The child is due next month. Her midwife predicts a girl. The Johnsons will be joyous when the child joins their family.

Most of the time, Mrs. Johnson is by herself while her husband does business in New York and other cities along the coast. She sits mostly in her room because she is with child. I tend to her needs while the other maid cleans and prepares the child’s room. They also have a chef who cooks every meal as well as shops in the markets each morning. Sometimes, Mrs. Johnson invites me to dinner. This is only when her husband is away and she craves company. They have sumptuous food. I’ve had dishes I never knew existed. Mrs. Johnson inquires frequently of my past. She knows there is someone special to me back home. She says she can tell by the glow in my eyes when I speak of home.

Mother is pleased with my earnings. She believes I only make three dollars a week. I have not told anyone but you that I make three dollars and fifty cents a week. I hide the extra fifty cents in the jewelry box you gifted me. Yes, I still have it with me. I’ve saved five dollars; I am saving for something special.

I hope this update does not bore you. There are many young men here, but none know me as you do. You are the only one to whom I can entrust my true feelings. It is difficult here, but easier than in England. We can survive month to month without worrying from where the money is coming to pay for our needs. I miss you terribly.

I pray you come to America. If you decide to come, inform us. Father will use some of what remains of our savings to meet you at the port and bring you to Michigan. There is plenty of room for another.

Please write back. I miss you too much.

Always with love,

Caroline Smith

152 Country Lane

Alpena, Michigan, America

A Tale of Two, Excerpt 2

Josef Calloway

1325 Queens Avenue

London, England

May 10, 1892

Dearest Josef,

We found land the day after my last letter to you. Yesterday we left Ellis Island. For every kind person we encountered there, we met several more who were weary and unpleasant. Thankfully we hadn’t needed to stay long, Mother had all our paperwork in order, and the medical tests were short, given we all are in good health. The literacy tests were quite simple for us, though I know others from our ship struggled. Marie had some difficulty, but she is only a child of six. It was expected. For her age, though, she did extremely well. And John informed me he found the test unbearably dull. He thinks they should tell fascinating stories of old instead of political accounts.

Father is purchasing a ticket to Michigan. The gossips were correct; there is no land available near where we arrived. All of the land is in the west. Because of the Gold Rush and Transcontinental Railroad, it has opened for settlement. There is lots of land for little money, or so we are told. The trick is having enough to get there. We are not taking the Transcontinental for it begins in a place called Omaha and goes to California, a place where the streets are rumored to be paved in gold. We will travel on a different locomotive. (We are lucky it has not left yet.) But Father says a ticket that far is too expensive. One day when I am wed, he says, he will pay for two tickets so that my spouse and I may live by the ocean in wealth and happiness. He does not understand that I love the country. It is all I know. As I sit here in this crowded place writing you, I feel at a loss. There are so many people; the streets are filthy and reek with the smell of waste. People dash from one place to another and dress strangely. Why would I want to live in a place such as this?

Father will purchase land by the lakes in Michigan and build Mother a new home. John is dreading this, often questioning why we cannot live in town. They fight more everyday, Father and John. I begin to think Father is ashamed of him. I do not understand why, though, when John is so talented in other careers. But it is not my place to wonder.

Mother wishes you well, and Father bids you join us. He has offered to pay your ticket to Michigan if you can find a way to America. And he will aid in building you a house, as well as give you some of the land he intends to buy.

Everyday Marie begs to hear a story. She misses your fanciful tales of knights and dragons. I am not good at that sort of thing. And John misses you dearly. You were a role model to him, following your heart as you do. But he misses how you drew Father’s attention away from him. Forgive my brother for such selfishness, but he does not like it when Father nags him.

We are preparing to leave. Father is dreadfully confused. The language is similar, yet so different. I am mailing this from New York, and promise to write from Michigan. By then, we shall own land, a home, and maybe an address so you can write.

I am dreadfully sorry this takes so long. It is not an easy journey. I shall explain more in my next letter.

Loving you always,

Caroline Smith

New York City, New York, America

A Tale of Two, Excerpt 1

Josef Calloway

1325 Queens Avenue

London, England

May 6, 1892

Dearest Josef,

There is little light to write by, and the horrible rocking of this dreadful ship shakes my pen. Father was foolish in spending so much for such an unworthy vessel, especially when we are saving money for other things. Every day the weather grows worse around us, and Marie prays alongside Mother that God spare us. There are some days when we fear the ship will capsize.

On days like these, I long for the quiet countryside of England. I miss the feel of solid ground beneath me. Fear overcomes me. Land should have been spotted days ago, but still all we see is the same gray waters lapping at the ship’s side.

Everyone hopes you are well, especially John. He hopes you will follow us soon. He fears plowing the fields Father intends to purchase when we arrive. I laughed when he first brought this to my attention. Still, John fears Father. He thinks Father despises him for being weak and preferring the arts to agriculture.

If you should follow us, I bid you find a seaworthy ship, one more suited to passengers. Our community quarters are in the cargo hold, and most of us are forbidden to go to the upper decks. Sickness spreads in the filth like a wildfire. Several lie ill in beds made from spare blankets and luggage.

I miss you dearly. Once we arrive, if ever we do, I shall inform you of our plans, so you may attempt to contact us. From what I hear, farmland is scarce where we will port. We can only hope we won’t have to travel far. Please know that I am well.

Love always,

Caroline Smith

The S. S. Sarah

Memory of a Little One

“Teagen!” she cries, her frightened voice

drifting down the hall and through the two

doors separating us.

Her call jolts me awake

from my attempt at a nap beside my

love’s warm body—soft, sculpted, secure,

though he has yet to see that

in himself.

Her room is a tumble of stuffed

toys, blankets, and dress up clothes.

At the white and pink bed, she

half sits, half stands, rubbing her

eyes, blonde hair tousled.

“What is it, baby?” Kneeling before

her pink clothed form, frail and small,

the only word she seems to know is no.

Wrapped gently in my arms, her head

lolls on my shoulder. She is a stubborn

one, determined her naptime is over

and her father, my love, will not do; in my lap,

she sits and makes a bed of my belly and bosom

where she alternates between quiet contentedness

and a restless search for awakeness.

The soothing swaying of the armchair is spoiled by

incessant squeaking, so I settle for holding her

and renew the search for my own sleep.

Moments later, she slips from my lap

in a whirlwind of energy, and begs, jumping—

her white blonde curls flying up—for the movie with cat bus.

800 Some Miles

A screen is the gateway across 800 some miles.

In an instant the distance is lost.

Separate time zones collide,

Though my solitary surroundings never change.

A tiny camera,

The circumference of a pencil,

Becomes a window into a world

Of a child laughing, oversimplified songs

Accompanied by overacting,

And you, overflowing with affection.

And though voices and images

Can travel the distance,

We oft opt for a keyboard and screen.

Your voice becomes the tapping of keys.

Your face preserved in snapshots

To be drunk and memorized.

Your words, which can be measured,

Perfected in the time before clicking

The beveled send button,

Remain raw and very much you.

And across 800 some miles,

Through a screen, keyboard, device,

Your life and love melds with mine,

Encased in an embrace

Of meant to be,

Engaged to be,

It is.

A Daughter and a Man

For years, I knew I had been missing

something, though I had learned only the fear

of being forgotten or taken by the cruel touch

of a man who wanted nothing but tears.

And though a part of me continued longing

for love, security, I remained just someone’s daughter.

Then I met a man with a young daughter,

not yet two years old, her mother missing

from her life. A woman who left his heart longing

for someone faithful who wouldn’t give him reason to fear

he gave his love in vain. Someone who wouldn’t leave tears

in her wake, destroying everything she might touch.

Meeting by a virtual waterfall, how could we touch

each other so profoundly? How could his lovely daughter

not be terrifying, but impelling? There were days when tears

danced down my cheeks as we learned each other. Missing

him was rare as we filled each day with conversation and the fear

it wouldn’t work, despite our love, and we’d be left longing

for the other, settling for another, someone closer. Longing

for a person miles away whom we could not touch

and could only dream of meeting. But fear

festered in my mind. I couldn’t be there for his daughter

and be the mother she needed. Not when I would be missing

her first time reading by herself, the tears

from a scuffed knee at daycare, or days indoors when tears

fell from the sky before she’s too old to know more than longing

to play outside. I would be no better than her mother, missing

her life. He was comforting, emoting tender touch

I imagined I could feel. We would wait and see, but his daughter

would love me when we met, I should have no fear.

He has a way of washing away every trace of fear

and making it seem silly. His voice soothes away tears

caused by feelings of inadequacy. His daughter

is fortunate to have a father who will not leave her longing

for a mother, whose love is evident in his tone and touch.

He’s filled my soul where something had been missing.

There is no fear in meeting my love’s touch,

only in missing him when I depart. But I have been longing

to meet him and his daughter, and hope my leaving sees few tears.

Eternal: Chapter Twelve, Part 2

Within weeks of the march, Caroline had officially called for a complete removal of the government, as I had known she would. She explained, no matter what agreement they came to in negotiations, it wouldn’t be long before things reverted to the way they had been.

Initially, people weren’t sure what to make of it. They weren’t ready for something so radical, not when that would mean removing the entire governmental body in work and replacing it. In response, she explained Leirba’s Council—they left it in my name so not everything was changing—was already drafting possible temporary solutions. It was a huge country, they weren’t ignoring that fact, but this was also a huge problem. No matter what they did, it would take time.

When she presented her proposal for the new temporary government, a council instead of a single figure head, and larger councils below and at every level, people relaxed. This was her guarantee that not everyone in the most important positions would be regular or elemental, which even satisfied some of those still unsure about elementals and hell.

A few short years later, the existing government was dissolved. Every official had either been petitioned from office or forcibly removed when only a few remained. An online ballot was released and the first members of the Change Committee—the council that would lead the country in this exchange of power—were elected and met. Caroline and a regular were the co-presiding chairs, the other twenty members divided between elemental and non. Together, they decided to rid the government of political parties other than elemental and regular, so no one group had too much more control than the other. Other such decisions regarding the new government were made in those first meetings, and, slowly, were being made in each state by their elected Change Councils—the state-level equivalent of the Committee.

Last I had heard, things were running smoothly with the temporary government—though it didn’t seem so temporary as it had been in place for six years. There was, of course, plenty of chaos, but things were quieting as each Council grew stronger and reviewed their new respective constitutions for any amendments that needed to be made. Things were looking better. In another year there would be elections again for most of the Committee and Council seats, though many felt that almost everyone holding a seat would win it back so they could finish what they had started.

Caroline, in addition to her revolution work, had also come to some resolution with her parents. They remained adamantly against the movement and all related things, but she finally had the backing and the proof she wasn’t insane, unhealthy, or freakish. Though they wouldn’t back down, she argued she was still their daughter, regardless of how they thought she should be, and she was going to live her own way, with or without their approval. When they failed to provide a compelling argument for her to continue visiting, both Caroline and Ian were freed from their mandatory meetings with them. This saddened her slightly, but she was quickly consumed in other business. I had a feeling, given a few more years, they might come around to accepting societal norms had changed and could figure out they really did love her—elemental, angry, wild, and all.

Ian was painting, as he had told me he would be. His murals and collages, portraits and scenes were gorgeous and many were available for viewing online or in various magazines. He also had current shows in a New York Gallery of his Movement works, and another in England of his Pre-Movement works. There was rarely a critic with a negative comment, though even those existed.

The one piece I had explained to Caroline, the one he said I was in, he named after me: Abriel. I read an interview in which he was asked why it was called Abriel, who was Abriel. His answer: “She is the bravest person I know, and without her, none of us would be where we are today.” Though this thoroughly confused people, especially the interviewer, I felt touched. The world would know my real name, even if they couldn’t match it with a face.

By far, though, his Movement works were his best known. They depicted everything from our early meetings to our commercials, Caroline’s local speeches to small group work, his picket signs to Nick’s death. It was the single greatest depiction of modern history in the world. I wasn’t the only one to think so, and I was biased.

However, he wasn’t just painting and making appearances; Caroline wouldn’t let him off that easily. Whenever she needed help or a second, outside opinion, he was on her speed dial. He didn’t mind it so much, though. If anything, he missed having her boss him around sometimes. Since they had gone their separate ways, he was suddenly making every decision, even about his exhibitions. Occasionally, when setting up a new exhibit, he called her so someone else could decide how it should look for once, especially since she had no eye for art and could therefore give a properly unbiased opinion. No matter what happened, they were stuck together. It was a good thing they didn’t mind.

Jake and Kora both returned to college, changing their majors to political science, the new version—Jake for a master’s and Kora for a bachelor’s though it meant an extra year of study for her. Both wanted to continue being a part of the change happening around them, and politics was the place to do so.

Kora was married on the two year anniversary of the march. We were invited—Drei received the invitation through Valetta. I went alone, but stayed to the back of the crowd, dropped off her present at the reception and left. She was stunning, the wedding was perfect, and Dan couldn’t have been a better match for her. The gift was the angels of love and hope, a note tucked into the box saying, “No matter what happens in life, love and hope will always lead you true.”

Jake was reunited with his mother. There were tears and apologies and promises made anew. When they went home together, his father apologized for his cruelty, and Jake finally found his answer. He wouldn’t forget, but he could forgive them. All of them.

With his new attitude and his family reunited, it wasn’t long before Jake was dating—and then engaged to—the girl about whom he used to tell me. And guess who? Natalie, the girl he thoroughly pissed off in his ethics class. They were cute together, and they reveled in the occasional heated debate.

Mikael and Xenia co-authored a memoir on their participation in those two years with me. It was a best seller and paid for them to go through college to become environmentalists. They were both working toward doctorate’s degrees.

Xenia eventually dyed her hair back to its original color and settled down. She could be herself, and that was all she had ever wanted. Her friends and her were all still single, no man (or woman) able to keep up with them. Someday that might change, especially as more and more people were becoming comfortable with admitting they were elementals or that they were okay with those who were.

Mikael’s parents showed up not long after he was interviewed the day of the march about his involvement in the movement. They told him they had made a mistake and wanted him back in their lives. No matter how much they apologized, though, Mikael remained silent. When they stopped fussing over him, trying to figure out if he was ever going to say something to them, he told them what they did was inexcusable, but he appreciated the apologies. Then he asked they never contact him again unless he did so first.

It couldn’t have been easy for him, but I think that’s what had been bothering him in those times he looked sad. He was trying to figure out what he would do if they came back. It couldn’t have been easy, but he had decided for himself what was right. I didn’t worry about him, though; Mikael had surrounded himself with a new family, both from our group and from his boarding school. He nurtured and cherished those relationships, but otherwise focused on his studies.

Occasionally, all of them gathered together in our old apartment, talking or plotting for old time’s sake. Caroline had kept up the rent and had given permission for the landlord to give weekday tours as an added bonus. I think they thought now that everything was going better, I might come back. While I couldn’t stop caring about them all, I couldn’t go to them. I was dead, technically, and I felt it was finally time I started acting like it.

Eternal: Chapter Twelve, Part 1

Chapter Twelve: Working Towards the Future

After I handed control to Caroline, Drei and I returned to the apartment and packed what we needed, leaving the rest. We mailed a key to Caroline, in case there was something she needed from the last two years. Leaving the apartment was my choice, and Drei didn’t ask. I was done here, and continuing to be there…the memories would have killed me more than anything else.

Part of me felt bad for leaving them without saying anything. I could imagine them searching for us afterwards, unable to find us anywhere, confused and unsure why we had disappeared. The news crews that had been at the event talked about how they hadn’t found me to express congratulations or ask questions. Some people on the site mused I had been an angel, only there to show them the way, and gone the minute they could see where they were going again.

But I had done my part, as I had said. Anything that came next was up to them. They had to take control of their own futures, make their own decisions, and find their own way. None of them needed me anymore, no matter what they thought.

Besides, Nick was dead now because of me. I was beginning to understand the pain Caroline must have felt, but this time, she wouldn’t stop. Ian wouldn’t let her. And the note I had left with our apartment key assured her I was fine.

As for Nick, we returned his body to Lily, the only family he had other than Drei and I. I didn’t go with Drei. Imagining how she was handling it tore me apart; I couldn’t even stand to map it. It took her four days to calm down enough to make a decision. His body was cremated and the ashes spread in Winnsboro, where his family died. At last he could be with them again. In that, I found some comfort; little as it was, it was something.

Eternal: Chapter Nine, Part 3

“How so?” I leaned forward, resting my chin on the heels of my palms. Finally, I would have an answer and, this time, it wasn’t to my own problem. Though I was certain this wasn’t a good thing he was about to tell me, I was grateful for the distraction.

“I remember when Caroline first told me she was a fire elemental, though, then, we didn’t know that was the name for it. It wasn’t long after I came into my own powers; I think we were 13 or 14. But I told her because it was really crazy what had happened—I mean, it wasn’t anything huge or particularly obvious, but suddenly I was hearing conversations and animals and the like when they weren’t even nearby,” he explained, leaning forward on his elbows. “It wasn’t spectacular, but it was like my hearing had improved 10 fold. And she was the first person I told.

“When I did, she told me I shouldn’t tell people about it because it made me look crazy and no one wanted to associate with a loony. So I asked her what right she had to say that, thinking she was just jealous. Then she explained it was what her parents told her.” Shaking his head, he tapped his fingers on the counter top. When he met my gaze again, he continued, “I didn’t believe her at first and then she lit a fire in her palm. Well, lit isn’t the right word, but you understand what I mean.”

I nodded, remembering when she had done the same to me upon our first encounter. That memory brought a smirk to my lips; her little fire didn’t last long after I pulled the air around it away. It was our exchange of secrets and the whole reason she took me on in the first place. “What did you do?”

“I told her we couldn’t both be crazy and then had to go home. When I told my grandmother she explained what was happening and told me it didn’t make me crazy; it just meant I had to be more careful about where and when I did things. She told me I was free to experiment in my room if I kept the curtains and the door closed, but nowhere else. I also asked if she could teach me things, but that’s when I found out it was her mother, not her, who had been an air elemental before me. She told me not even my father had it; she also said it made me special.”

“Well, it does. What about Caroline?”

“When I told her what my grandmother had said, she didn’t believe me. Instead, she put more stock into what her parents had said, fighting me for well over an hour before storming off to go home. The next day she didn’t show up at school, so I went to the soda shop on the square, her favorite one. Sure enough, she was there with a root beer float, crying in a corner. She tried acting like she hadn’t been crying, but she gave up when I sat down and told her I wasn’t leaving. That’s when she told me she had been fighting with her parents the night before about what I’d told her. She admitted she had liked the sound of not being crazy for being different, but her parents insisted whoever had put the thoughts in her head was out of line and she should stay away from him.

“Caroline, being Caroline, told them she wouldn’t listen to them anymore and when they tried to control her—which she didn’t say how—her skin superheated and blistered her father’s hands. She didn’t want to come to me because, she said, that would mean saying I was right;” he chuckled to himself and a smile tugged at the corners of my mouth. “Instead, she waited in her tree house until the soda shop had opened and went there.”

“What happened after that? Did they ever accept that they couldn’t change her?”

His head shook sadly, his lips pressed into a pale line. “We went to see my grandmother, who assured Caroline she wasn’t a freak or crazy or anything else. She stayed with us for the day and then went home that night. After that, she became even more hardheaded, but it was because she was fighting her parents at home almost every night. No one at school knew anything outside she had become a royal pain—well, more of one. But whenever she was too flustered to go home and speak reasonably for even a short period of time, she stayed over with me.

“After about a year, her parents asked me why I was still hanging around her when she was so ‘uncontrollable’ and ‘obviously unwell.’ She never did tell them I’m the one who told her she wasn’t a freak or crazy. When I told them because we were friends and she seemed fine to me, they insisted I either wasn’t well or too good to be true. That’s when, to add insult to injury, they began insisting we date and eventually wed.”

“I bet Caroline didn’t like that.”

“You’ve got that right,” Ian said, his eyes wide as he recalled the blowup that had led to. “About a year after that she came out to her parents. They thought it was to spite them—which it was in a way. She had been interested in only girls for a few years at that point, but she had never told them before. When they wouldn’t take no for answer, she told them and that was just—it just wasn’t good. They were not a happy family by any means. Caroline would use her gifts around the house and started bringing girlfriends home to annoy them. She figured it was only fair because they annoyed her. Really, it was just an ugly circle of events.

“Then when we went to college,” he continued, “she started getting better. She was calmer and typically more open to varying opinions. Then, after hearing everyone else talk about how wonderful a relationship they had with their parents, she decided she wanted that for herself and called home.”

“Not good?” I guessed, grimacing. I could only imagine how it had turned out, and it didn’t look pretty in my mind.

Shaking his head, he elaborated, “The first phone call wasn’t bad. But after that, they started insisting if she wanted to talk, she had to come home. So she did; and when she came back at the end of that weekend, she was worse than she had ever been in high school. It was a constant case of PMS and worsened by the fact she either had to go home semi-regularly or they would begin visiting campus, with the threat of them recommending mental guidance and anger management for her.

“The rest is pretty much downhill from there. They set up a schedule of times she’s required to visit, and then, occasionally, they drop in for a visit—those are typically unannounced. She obliges and the tradeoff is she can live on their dime on her terms.”

“But she still has to listen to their opinions on her life,” I added, having heard that bit before.

“And their complaining about her element.”

I nodded, better understanding her earlier behavior and her motivation to make this work within my timeline. The sooner we were in the open, the sooner she could prove her parents wrong. Though, from the sound of it, they weren’t the type to admit fault. That’s probably where Caroline learned it.

Neither of us said anything for a long time. I didn’t have anything I could say to him without facing some sort of consequence and that was the topic that most interested him.

“Did you want to stay for dinner?” I offered, regardless how random it seemed—I needed to break the silence somehow.

Just as I asked, Nick walked through the door, dinner rolls in hand. He handed them to me, saying to Ian, “You should. We’ll have enough food.”

“Nick, was it?” Ian inquired, not because he didn’t remember but because he was stalling.

“You don’t have to if you don’t want to,” I said, preheating the oven.

“I don’t see why not,” Ian said after a moment. “Caroline shouldn’t need anything tonight.”

“And she can call if she does,” I finished for him, pulling an extra table setting from the cupboard. Drei had bought new dishes and such to replace the ones I’d broken; these were sturdier than the other ones had been—probably in anticipation of another meltdown.

Dinner was fabulous and Ian left contented after Drei and Nick had both assured him I was doing fine. It helped to have two people vouch for me; after he had asked each of them, he let it go.

The next day I spoke with Mikael and Xenia about the website and adding videos. They said it’d be a cinch and would start the formatting for it now while they could work together over the layout; they seemed excited to start when they left. When Nick came home that night, he brought the sketched story board for the next commercial for my approval.

I went with him the next day to give suggestions—all minor because the story board was great when it came to the big ideas—and that was also when Caroline unloaded what seemed like her entire life’s homework and a few flash drives on me. The information was more than welcome as most of it was already targeted against the government, saving me half the leg work. As for how relevant it was to my revolution, I’d find out soon enough. After these commercials were done, Caroline and I would be traveling and speaking publicly, wherever we could to whoever would listen. People would need to put a face with the idea, and that was the best way, in my opinion, to do it.

Eternal: Chapter Five, Part 6

 “All of you are elementals?”

“Not all of us,” he corrected, sitting back in his chair. “Just most of us. It’s why Valetta chose the school. We’re not supposed to use our gifts unless it’s necessary.”

“How can they even tell if you do?” It didn’t seem likely such a rule could be enforced.

“It’s why Margie and the teachers like me.” He smiled proudly, tenting his fingers as his dark eyes glowed. “I’m not strongly gifted myself…I can do enough small stuff to avoid teasing, but my real talent is in what the earth tells me about other people.”

“You can tell when people use their gift?”

Nodding, he elaborated, “Just water and earth, though I don’t know about fire. I never could tell when you did. It also tells me who is an earth elemental.”

“Really? That’s incredible, Mikael.”

“I know, right?” Leaning forward, he said, “Now about why you’re here, A—”

“Leirba,” I said. “It’s a long story, but Drei wants everyone to call me Leirba for the time being.”

“Okay. I’m not one to argue with Drei.”

“Mikael…are you sure you wouldn’t rather talk about your family?”

He sighed heavily and sat forward on his elbows. “There isn’t anything to say. They left. That was their choice. But family isn’t just the people who bring you into the world. Besides, here we have Margie. And Valetta and Mitchell come every now and then to check on me. I have brothers among the other students. I have siblings among those from the camp, even if we’re far apart now. I have family, Abri—Leirba; you included. Mine is unconventional but loyal.”

I didn’t know what to say. There was a rawness of emotion to his words, as though this was a mantra he reminded himself of daily. I wanted to prod, but I stopped myself. That desire was fueled by my own guilt in abandoning my family and never looking back. In not demanding Drei ignore my mom’s wishes and rescue her as well; in causing my father unknown pain by disappearing because I was terrified and mortified. I hadn’t been Mikael; I had been his parents. To some extent, I wanted him to validate the way I felt about my own actions through anger and resentment. Instead, he coped through redirection.

“I know that’s not why you’re here,” he said, bringing me out of my thoughts.

“I’m starting my movement,” I said, reorienting myself from my distraction. I studied the young man before me. “I won’t say what it’s for just now because I’ll share when I have everyone together. What I will tell you now is that this shouldn’t interfere with school, because school will come first. However, I want you on my team for opinions, help, organizational things. The downside, we have two years.” I had a feeling Mikael would agree to help even if I only had 18 months.

“Sounds easy enough,” he joked, looking away as he thought it over. “School won’t be an issue. It sounds like there’s plenty to be done, and I’m guessing there’s going to be a lot of us from camp working together.” I nodded and he smiled joyfully. “Then count me in.”

“You don’t have any concerns or worries?”

“You make it sound like you want it to be hard,” he teased, smiling in much the same fashion as Mitchell did.

“Well, I’ve had a lot of concern over the two-year time span so far,” I said seriously.

“Ab—Leirba, I’m actually beginning to find I enjoy entertaining the possibility of making the impossible possible.” The happiness dripping from his words filled the air to the point of contagiousness.

“I’m glad you’re seizing the challenge.”

“Anything to see some old faces again,” he said, hugging me once more.

I couldn’t have asked for a better reception of my request. I still had two more to recruit, but I hoped both Xenia and Jake were as welcoming of the challenge as Mikael had been.

Mikael and I chatted a short while longer before we parted ways and I was en route back to the city and Drei. Hopefully, Valetta had returned in my absence with Jake’s and Xenia’s locations so I could finally bring everyone together and share the plan. If I was lucky, Caroline and Ian would already have finished the timeline of events and I could start them on commercial story boards. Perhaps even Drei would be done with whatever business to which he was attending; if he was, I’d postpone my recruitments a night to spend some time with him. I was starting to miss him again and we hadn’t been apart that long. Someone—Caroline, more than likely—might suggest something was wrong with me.

And maybe there was. Whatever it was, it had bought all of us time in different ways. That was worth something.

Eternal: Chapter Five, Part 5

It felt as though much more time than an hour had passed, but I trusted the pristine grandfather clock in the corner of the dull room was in top condition. Sipping at my water, I spent most of the hour glancing around at the wood paneled walls, the well-kept crown molding along ceiling, the shaded windows, and the impeccably clean but uncomfortable furniture. However, I did spend the first couple minutes after she left inspecting myself, trying to attain a sense of how thin I really looked. All of my limbs seemed properly proportioned, but who knew? Perhaps that was all in my head.

My mind wondered if the woman would come back saying Mikael had died in the last hour. If she did, I wouldn’t be happy. I wouldn’t care what kind of punishment Drei gave me; I would probably kill her and not think twice about it.

Then I stopped, shocked at my suddenly violent thoughts. I couldn’t remember having wanted to purposefully hurt someone. I had practiced self-defense often enough, but I had never physically hurt someone just to hurt her or him. Mentally, I made a note to talk to Drei about that; I wanted to write it off as bad vibes and stress, but not even that made sense. I would hate for it to be something more and not have brought it up. Unfortunately, it was forgotten in the next moment.

The door opened and Mikael entered, the cheerily strange woman smiling behind him, visible until he shut the door again. He had grown so much, just like Kora. I had always been one of those kids who hated when adults gushed over how much I had changed, and now I understood why; I never would have guessed he was in high school still. Mikael carried himself much the same as Drei did: tall and proper, a thumb hooked loosely in his pants pocket, relaxed but charismatic. His thick black tresses still retained some of their youthful wildness, but were tamer in the way the curls framed his visage.

“Margie said you were here to see me about something personal,” he started, crossing to sit in the chair adjacent to mine. “I must admit, while you look familiar, I don’t remember who you are.”

“Mikael;” I couldn’t help smiling at his questioning eyes as he struggled to place me. At least he didn’t judge me as a danger as Kora had. “You’ve grown up so much…even your voice has stopped cracking.”

Blushing, embarrassed, he waved off the comment, saying, “Margie said you told her you were Miss Jones. But I’m afraid, when my voice was still cracking, I didn’t know anyone’s last name.”

“Oh, you’re thinking too hard. Think…feathers and games.”

“Abriel?” he gasped before I could stop him. Reaching across the distance, he embraced me. “I didn’t think I’d ever see you again.”

“Well, here I am.”

“But why? And why couldn’t you just tell Margie your name in the first place?” he asked.

“We’ll get to that soon enough,” I assured him, waving the questions away for the time being. “How are you doing? And how in the world did you end up at a boarding school?”

He shrugged his broad shoulders, saying, “My parents got used to not having a kid around. They stuck around for about three months after I went back and then…they disappeared. So I found Mitchell while he was following a young earth elemental and told him about it. He told Valetta and she’s been paying for me to go here,” he said, which made sense why Mitchell had reported back so quickly; he didn’t even have to look for Mikael.

“It seems so sketchy here, though,” I said, unable to hide my concern. Valetta had chosen this place, and usually I trusted her judgment, but so far my reception had led me to wonder about how safe an environment this was.

“That’s just because Margie’s wary of everyone,” Mikael said. “Most of the boys here are earth or water elementals, so any visitors she doesn’t recognize she hassles a little. It’s mostly for our protection.”

Vampiric: Chapter Twelve, Part 1

Chapter Twelve: The Missing Pieces of the Puzzle

Wherever I had ended up was dark. In all my imaginings of death, I had never thought it would be dark. It had always been bright—on the brink of blinding—with a gentle melody leading me along to a place full of people who knew me, who had been waiting for me. To be in darkness made my failure seem far more stark.

“Before I explain,” Drei’s voice said from the darkness, “I need to tell you the story you’ve been requesting to hear.”

Hearing him so close wasn’t a comfort. I was terrified by the thoughts of what could have happened to him, especially after I had wanted him to stay safe. Being here—if it was where I thought I was—was not by any means safe.

“Where are you?” I asked, my voice harsh, my throat dry and constricted. Another oddity; I didn’t think death meant you still suffered bodily needs like thirst.

A lamp came on, temporarily blinding me. Once my eyes adjusted from the shock, I saw Drei sat on the edge of a nearby chair, hunched forward and seeming unable to look at me.

“Right here,” he whispered, his eyes dark and sorrowful.

The light partially illuminated the room around us. The entire space was dark, heavy curtains drawn over what appeared to be the only window. I had been tucked under sheets and thick woolen blankets on a bed. Thus far, the only thing consistent with my imaginings of death was that I didn’t feel like myself; something was very odd and not quite right with me.

 “Everything will make sense when I finish,” Drei said; I could have sworn I could feel his insecurity. That couldn’t be, though, because I remembered losing touch with the air in the hospital. I decided to trust Drei would make sense of this all.

“Okay,” I said, watching him carefully.

“Nearly 400 years ago, before I was turned, I met someone,” he said softly, the shame rising from the memory engulfing him. “At the time, I was finishing my studies at university. A few of my peers went to celebrate the end of exams, though most of us had another the following day. It was at the pub where she noticed and seduced me. There was no hiding what she was doing; she openly admitted what she wanted. When I resisted, insisting I could not partake that night, nor anytime soon as I was returning home after the commencement exercises, she told me I would be unable to resist her. Unfortunately, that was also the truth.

“She released me from her spell long enough to pass my final exam and receive my diploma. I had planned to make my escape after the ceremony and return home, but she awaited my exit and seduced me anew. I spent the next several weeks with her, not realizing how much time had elapsed until a letter arrived from home, requesting my immediate return. She was livid, insisting I would be unable to leave.” He rubbed his temples as though he could still hear her protests. “I knew I had to go. I missed my sisters, and she had underestimated the strength of my love for them. So one day, as she rested, I left, hoping that was the last I would see of that place.”

“What happened?” I asked, my voice still scratchy but slowly returning to normal.

Running an unsteady hand through his hair, he said, “A month later, she showed up in my bed chambers. There was no way she could have been there, let alone have known that is where I was. She scolded me for leaving her, insisting it had been a poor choice. That I wanted to please her, keep her contented, or she would drain me. It was my first indication as to her true nature. She presented me an option, then: I could devote myself to her and leave my family straight away, or I could deny her. Though she guaranteed I would not like the consequences of denying her, I…I could not imagine disappearing from my sisters’ lives. They needed me…they were still young and impressionable…you understand.” His voice was pleading, as if trying to convince me they didn’t deserve their fate, whatever it had been. “And I believed myself intelligent and resourceful enough to elude whatever consequences she promised.”

“Drei,” I whispered, not wanting him to continue. His hands and voice shook from the pain of the memory; I reached a hand out to him, though he was just out of reach. For as long as I had wanted to know, I didn’t want him plagued by remembering after he had worked so hard to forget. I hated seeing him pained, especially when there was little I could do about it.

“No, you must know to understand,” he asserted, moving his seat closer and taking my hand. I could still feel the pain and shame clouding the air around him, but the contact seemed to renew his resolve and stop his trembling.

“For weeks she showed up, issuing the same offer, and each time I remained insistent on staying. One evening, I had been taking a stroll, considering my future and whatnot when she appeared. I thought she was there for the same reason she had been the nights previously, so I ignored her. Until she stopped me. She teased me a while, asking for another chance to fix things between us. When I explained I would have to refuse her, she stalled with small talk. After an appropriate interval of time, she let me go with no proposal, no threats or consequences. I was sure I had finally convinced her she did not need me. How naïve I was,” Drei lamented, cradling his head in his free hand, gripping tighter to mine.

Vampiric: Chapter Nine, Part 8

Christmas morning was interesting. We gathered downstairs and presents were passed out, but no one moved to open them. Then Ian insisted her parents start, Caroline backing him. All of their gifts were thoughtful and beautiful, my own to them a set of 20 pairs of scented taper candles and two glass, box-shaped candle holders. Caroline opened hers next and politely thanked her parents for the cashmere sweaters. I didn’t know what to get her, so I gave her a certificate for a few spa days—not that I was insinuating anything.

Ian refused to open his before me, so I went next. He had given me a spa day package to the same place I had picked up Caroline’s. Her gift was a pearl necklace—“Because every girl needs one.” I was surprised her parents had also given me a gift—a tri-gold piece, the different gold strands entwined to create a thin rope necklace.

Ian opened his last, thanking me for the collection of crocheted caps, then laughing when he found Caroline had gifted him a similar set. Caroline had also given him a set of oil paints to accompany the large canvases from her parents. Well, it was the receipt for the canvases which were to be delivered to his loft sometime after the holidays.

While we were at the beach house, her parents were pleasant, but I had this strange sensation it was all a ruse. That while I walked on the beach—sometimes over the water—not all was as it seemed. I didn’t press Ian or Caroline for answers; I didn’t much want them. It seemed silly to add more problems to my plate before my own were taken care of.

Sometimes I wished I would ask, though. Every time I would talk to Caroline, she seemed tense, as though she was reeling in her stress and anger so as not to worry me. Even Ian seemed changed; he wasn’t as relaxed and carefree. I wondered if it was something her parents kept telling them. They never called me in to talk like they did those two. It made me grateful, though I felt slightly guilty.

When we left, Caroline confided that she was glad the rounds were done until Easter. Ian teased her that he didn’t have to return for another year and she slapped him on the arm for it. I was willing to bet he would have been smacked upside the head, but he was driving.

Whatever had happened while we were there was past, thankfully. I was discovering part of the peace I found came from their energy. Still able to feel the caress of the ocean breeze in combination with their typical energy, I felt much better. Things were slowly returning to normal.

Vampiric: Chapter Nine, Part 4

A few days before Christmas, Caroline, Ian, and I drove down to her parent’s place. Well, Ian drove, Caroline rode shotgun, and I had the backseat with half of the luggage. From what I could tell, we weren’t actually going to their regular place of residence because she had mentioned a townhouse in a city further south, but we were going to a beach house to the north. Why we were going to a beach house in the midst of winter didn’t make sense to me, but I was more than used to that by now.

To pass the time on the long drive—long due to traffic, not distance so much—we played car games involving the cars around us, license plates, and even nursery rhymes. One of us would be ‘it’. One would pick a car and license plate and the other would pick a nursery rhyme. The object was to come up with two verses to the nursery rhyme—one about the car, one about the license plate. If both choosing parties decided the verses were valid and worked in the melody, the person having chosen the rhyme would be ‘it’ next and the duties would rotate accordingly. If they voted it didn’t work, the person would be ‘it’ again.

It really was entertaining, especially when the verses included flying cars, bewitched numbers, dancing letters, and escaped law students making a quick getaway before their professors caught up. After a few rounds of listening to Caroline and Ian create these ingeniously hilarious lines—compared to my relatively boring, minimal requirement efforts—I branched out, coming up with a few one liners that would make Caroline toss her head back laughing and Ian grip the steering wheel tighter as he tried to control himself. I was pleased I was improving in their game.

Caroline’s parents were sitting on the wraparound porch on the beach side when we arrived. They came to greet us at the car. I was somewhat surprised as she didn’t truly resemble either of them. Her mom had wispy, reddish blonde hair and sea-green eyes; the only clue they were related was the high cheekbones. She had her father’s eyes, and might have had his hair, though I doubted that. His was already grey and, as dark as it was, I was willing to bet his hair had been some deep brown or raven color.

Both of them took turns hugging Caroline until she rolled her eyes and protested their affections. Then they shook Ian’s hand and welcomed him.

“Mom, Dad,” Caroline said, steering them over to where I stood by the car, watching the greetings and trying to avoid thinking about how my own parents were doing. “This is Abriel. Abs, these are my—ever embarrassing—parents.”

“Oh, really, honey;” her mom blushed. “She doesn’t realize how much she loves it,” she said, taking my hands in each of hers. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Abriel. We’ve heard a fair amount about you the past months. She’s almost smitten.”

“She’s not like that, Mom.” Caroline lugged a couple of suitcases out of the car and started toward the porch.

Her father nodded his head in greeting, “It is a pleasure. I do believe you’re the first girl she’s brought home in a long time.”

Caroline reappeared behind them and dragged them away while saying, “I’m sorry, Abs. They just never know how not to embarrass me.”

Once they were on the porch, Caroline started counting things off on her fingers. From the tidbits I caught on the wind, it sounded like she was reviewing a list of appropriate topics of conversation. It reminded me somewhat of Mother and her incessant need for everything to be perfectly correct. However, knowing Caroline, this was to minimize her humiliation.

Vampiric: Chapter Nine, Part 1

Chapter Nine: Rushed

Three months seemed to fly past. We’d had five successful broadcasts—each one widening the fan base according to the activity online—and another one scheduled for the week before Christmas. During the work week, Caroline surfed the web, finding amusement in all the bloggers pretending to be her. She even had fan groups and followings on social networks.

To further spread the word, she bought a new mechanism that would extend the reach of the broadcast by 150 miles, making her total live outreach over a 200 plus mile radius. With the internet bloggers on her side, she was worldwide. And for those people lucky enough to have a system setup to record her broadcasts, her messages were available directly for free replay online. Most of those were viewed well over a million times each. Needless to say, her ideas were spreading and her optimism of a better future was infectious.

Myself? I was swept up in the research, trying to keep everything in some semblance of organization, and attempting to find myself in the chaos along the way. It had been so long since I had lived without him, I wasn’t sure who I was on my own anymore. I doubted I had ever known. But Caroline and Ian insisted the sooner I figured it out, the better I would feel about his decision. Then I could be happy and move on. Unlike how Caroline made it sound, however, it was anything but easy.

Over Thanksgiving, she left for home, saying there were too many family things to discuss, but she’d drag me along for Christmas. Ian invited me to his place for dinner, promising he wouldn’t make me cook too much. He already had most of it started when I reached his loft. It was an open, artsy studio with cement walls and floors, painted in splashes of color as though there had been a paint war at some point in time. But it was homey. I made a mental note that an apartment like this wouldn’t be half bad—when Caroline let me move out, of course.

I had tried a few weeks after my high speed driving experience—I still didn’t know how fast I had driven—and she nearly blew my head off. She insisted I wasn’t emotionally fit to live on my own, and if I even thought about it before she asked, she would start rationing how much of my paycheck was available to me. I was fairly certain that was illegal, but there were worse things in life than having a roommate.

But, back to Thanksgiving; Ian had already started a smoked turkey breast—since a whole turkey didn’t make sense for two—stuffing, and gravy. He allowed me to set the table while he checked to make sure the corn wasn’t overcooking in the oven. When it was done, he opened a bottle of sparkling cider, explaining he didn’t like to drink. I had no problem with it as I hadn’t been drunk in my lifetime and the idea of alcohol was unappealing—considering the last time I had any was in high school on a night I could live without ever remembering.

Neither of us spoke much while we ate; the company was healthy for us but we had never really talked about anything unless Caroline was there to instigate it. After Ian cleared the table and I washed the dishes, we sat down in his living area with more cider.

“Why don’t you go home like Caroline?” Then realizing I might sound ungrateful, I added, “Not that I haven’t enjoyed this; it’s really nice to have someone to spend the holiday with.”

He nodded, grinning slightly at my worried babbling. “I could ask you the same thing;” he sipped from his glass. “The short answer is I don’t know where my family is.”

“What’s the long version?” I asked, curious as to why that statement didn’t cause even a hint of sorrow in his voice. It felt more relaxed now that the silence between us had been broken.

He sighed, shaking his head. “Basically, my parents always moved around a lot when I was younger. I got tired of never being able to meet anyone or do well enough in school not to be considered special needs, so I opted to crash with my grandparents. They passed away a few years ago—within a few months of each other.”

“I’m sorry,” I said instinctively. I winced, knowing it probably sounded more habitual than sincere.

“Don’t be;” he waved it off like a cloud of smoke. “It happens. But, that’s my excuse.”

“I can’t spend it with my mom because it’s not possible. As for my dad and his wife—my other mother—I ran away years ago and haven’t talked to them since. I don’t even know if I’d be welcome anymore.”

“You probably are,” he said, leaning forward on his elbows. “Welcome, that is. They probably miss you.”

Gazing out the huge floor to ceiling windows, I wondered if I would try. If one day I would decide to go home and see them. Would Mother think I was only there for money? Would Dad even talk to me? Or would he be so reclusive that would be impossible? I remembered him saying I was the only reason he could stand missing Mom, and I couldn’t help but think if he was worse off, it was because of me. If I explained, could he forgive me? Or would the only way to fix things be to reunite him and Mom? Was that even possible?

“I don’t know if it would make things easier or more difficult,” I said, trying to toss the thoughts from my mind. Things didn’t need to be more complicated; I needed everything to be simplified. It was the only way I could think of to put my life together enough to be useful to anyone.

“When you’re ready,” he said, sitting back again as though we had been talking about something as simple as taking college courses or moving out.

From there, we talked about Caroline and the next broadcast, as well as random points from her speeches. I discovered he and I actually thought about things in much the same way. If he had been an elemental, I bet he would have been air. Mostly because he put others first and himself second when thinking about the consequences of actions—which seemed to be a trend I’d picked up during my studying. He agreed there needed to be a change, but also that rallying the people into anger wasn’t necessarily the best way—considering how many people become uncontrollable and unpredictable when enraged.

I knew then that if I ever led my own revolution—if that’s what it was supposed to be—I wanted Ian on my side. When I second guessed myself, he would be someone who would see my dilemma and actually work towards helping me solve it in a way with which I was comfortable, versus letting me work it out alone (and possibly screwing everything up) or attempting to convince the only way was something contrary to my beliefs. That was something I knew I would need, especially if I wanted to succeed. And I did.