Michael (The Airel Saga, Book 2) - By Aaron Patterson Page 0,9
He knew one day it wouldn’t be enough for her. Eriel would need people, need to engage life, perhaps even start a family of her own. Then he would need to let go.
But that time would be far off, wouldn’t it?
Kreios stood and stretched his legs. The cabin he had built for them was simple. One room. But it was cozy. He picked a low open valley and built the cabin just beyond the tree line. It nestled at the base of massive Sawtooth Mountains and looked out over a perfect meadow of grass and wildflowers, a misty waterfall nearby that cast rainbows out into the air.
“When can we go back to Ke’elei? I miss everyone. I want to see Mary. I want to see uncle Yam.”
“Soon, my lovely.”
“Why can’t we live there?” Eriel stood. Kitty took the ball and string, running a few feet off in the grass with his spoils.
“We’ve talked about this. It is better out here. Quiet.” Kreios hated the politics of life in the big city. The Council also did not look kindly on him after all that had happened. Yet he could not help his six-year-old daughter understand any of this.
“I know…” Eriel said with a pout. She hung her head and looked up at Kreios with big eyes.
His smile broke wide. “You know I cannot resist those eyes. Come here.”
She came to him.
He lifted her into his arms and took to the sky, twisting and twirling with her wrapped tightly to his chest. She giggled, pulling him tighter with her little arms. She loved to fly with him and would beg and chip away at him for hours if he let too much time go by without “a sky adventure.”
“I love you, Eriel,” he said, kissing her cheek.
“I love you too, daddy.” Her eyes bright, she looked out over the world without any fear.
CHAPTER VI
Sawtooth mountains of Idaho, present day
LARGE QUESTIONS LOOMED OVER all of us. It had been a few hours. Now all of us were showered and changed and we had finished up in the kitchen, having feasted on whatever we could find in the house.
We were now sitting comfortably in the library.
“Okay, I’m ready to talk about the elephant in the room,” Kim said. We had to clear the air. I was really glad at least one of us finally broke the ice.
The fire was roaring nicely, casting the three of us in a warm light. It was just past midnight. Kim and I were sitting on the antique loveseat and Michael was seated on an armchair, leaning forward toward the fire, elbows on knees, staring into the flames.
Kim went on. “First of all, Michael—are you going to be okay?”
Michael looked like he had been caught doing something naughty. “Yeah, I just…this is…”
“I get it, you’re a jerk, a loser, and you don’t deserve her.” Kim pointed to me.
My heart felt stabbed.
“But she likes you. She loves you—I think—”
“Hey,” I said, trying to deflect the direction of the conversation. “How about you, Kim? Are you okay? You look pretty rough…”
Kim said, “Yeah, I’m fine. Just a little bruised up. It’s like that when you’re duct taped to a chair for a day or so.”
Again my heart felt wounded. This is all my fault. But the look on Michael’s face said otherwise.
She turned back to him. “Anyway, Michael, you’d better make it up to her.”
“I’m sitting right here, Kim,” I said. “I can handle my problems.”
She ignored me, laying into him again in attack mode, and I couldn’t interject. “What are you? Who was your dad? And James…I don’t even know where to begin.”
He sighed. I had never seen him like this. He looked older than eighteen. There was even a shadow of stubble on his face in spite of the fact that he—that all of us—had had a chance to wash the blood from our hands, our bodies.
“I know. Who am I really other than a backstabbing demon?” He looked her dead in the eyes.
Again, something I found arresting. There was some strength about him. It was way beyond the look he had given me on our first and only date. Before we were kidnapped.
“Right?” she said. It was a total Kim thing to say; ditzy, childish, playful. It seemed like she was back. Maybe.
Michael went on, “For once in my life, I wonder what’s going to happen to me. To us, I mean. I’m not used to this feeling. I’m used to having a plan; the plan. Stanley…always made