Michael (The Airel Saga, Book 2) - By Aaron Patterson Page 0,49

never hope to get to, something from which she could never even hope to find relief.

She rubbed her temples.

She reached into her sweater pocket and touched the Bloodstone. It was warm; it calmed her mind to know that it was there; it scratched the itch a little. Who would have thought such a pretty little thing could mean so much? Who would have thought that moment on the cliff, when she lay in the dirt, afraid, angels and demons having finished their scuffling death-contest all around her, that she could find such a salve for her ragged mind?

It was a drug. Really. One she now needed. One she would guard like a jealous lover.

“She knows. You need to keep it from her; she wants to use it against you…” The whisper in her head grew louder as the itch vanished.

Am I losing my mind? she thought. She didn’t think so, but this…the voices, the needs, the hunger to know…it had to stop. It was overpowering.

“It’s not you, Kim, but her…”

Who? Airel?

“No. Ellie. Or maybe…maybe it’s Michael and Ellie together…”

Yes…Michael. He was the real enemy. He had bewitched everyone with his handsome face and charm.

“Just what is he trying to do?”

“I don’t know,” Kim heard her own voice sounding off from far away, muffled, wrapped in heavy cloth. What’s going on here? She wanted to run, to leap from the train, run as fast as she could, away. Just away. Away from this train, away from this mess, away from them, away from life.

Kim hugged herself. It’s cold in here, and it smells funny.

What were they even doing anymore? Kim didn’t know. Maybe she didn’t want to know.

Michael reached out gently and brushed her cheek with his fingertips. “Airel.” She looked up at him, the pain in her eyes completely naked. “Thank you for looking at me again.”

“I’m so sorry…”

“No need,” he said, smiling compassionately. “You can never push me away.”

“But—”

“Shh,” he said. “Just stop. I know you didn’t mean it. I know.” He pulled her closer and kissed her cheek, perilously close to her lips, igniting their passions again. “Love,” he said.

“Oh, Michael.” A tear escaped.

He caught it with his lips, kissing it away. “You can never do anything that will make me turn away from you.”

There were more tears as she began to break. She reached out and pulled him to her, and they locked in embrace, holding each other fiercely, she weeping, he stroking her hair.

“I am sorry,” she said.

“Shh.”

She pulled away and looked deep into his eyes, searching them. He could see understanding in her eyes, as if she really knew him and loved him for who he was. Twisting around with her back to his chest, she pulled his arms around her and leaned into him, laying her head against his shoulder. He cradled her with his body, wrapping his arms tight around her small frame. After a while, the smooth rocking motion of the train lulled them to sleep.

CHAPTER VIII

I OPENED MY EYES.

I was not on the train.

It was bright; the sun was high, its heat making my skin tingle.

I stood with the Sword of Light blazing like a star in my right hand.

To my left: Ellie, sword drawn, clothed in form-fitting robes. Across part of her neck and face there glowed a design that was reminiscent of a tattoo, only like nothing the world had ever seen. I bristled at her presence. Who does she think she is, anyway?

On my right stood Kreios. I turned to him and he smiled at me. Grandfather. My heart nearly burst with the release: all my nagging questions had found their end; it was like the final resolving chord of a symphony. I wanted to throw myself at him as those lovely tones echoed through the deepest crevices of my mind, wrap my arms around his massive frame and cry—I had found him!

Or had I?

His face, the expression he wore, told me there was something else happening. Something I had not yet seen.

We three stood on a low rise before a wide grassy meadow. Beyond it were broken buildings, the ruins of a once great city. These ruins were roundabout; hemming us in. The jagged and wrecked skyline loomed over the meadow on all sides. It reminded me of a place I had only ever seen in pictures. Is that where we are? Central Park? Is this—or was it—New York City?

I hate nightmares. I thought I had moved past them. It seemed like they were just getting worse