It felt like forever, but eventually we made it to a house with only rolling fields, laced with frost, for company. It was deadly quiet now. The blackness of the night had long reached the doorway that I was being lifted through.
Once inside Gabriel seemed to search for his companions but was greeted only by one. Creeping in the shadows, she merely nodded in acknowledgment of our arrival. My hair had fallen once more over my eyes, and I could barely make her out; she almost seemed to blend into the emptiness.
Gabriel carried me up a winding spiral staircase and placed me down carefully onto a firm mattress. “Don’t worry. I’m taking care of you,” he whispered in my ear.
I wanted to say something, urgently needing to talk with him, but I couldn’t speak. My body was failing me, and the burning had begun to fizzle away into a dull ache. My senses were also starting to fade. I knew him. I knew those eyes. After all this time, I had started to think that he was just a dream, a mirage that I had created from the depths of my mind. Yet when I tried to block him from my thoughts, his face only seemed to work even harder to reach me.
I tried to breathe through my nose, but I couldn’t find any air. I opened my mouth and gasped, but all I could taste was blood seeping into the back of my throat, slowly choking me. My gaze was drawn to my side and though I couldn’t feel him grip my hand with his, I watched him as he did.
I stared up into his eyes one last time as the thoughts whirling around my mind started to dissolve. The aching in my shoulder was no longer apparent. In fact, I could no longer feel any part of my body. My consciousness was slipping away; it was on the edge of the emptiness that I found Gabriel’s face in the distance.
I remembered this dream.
I watched as he stepped toward me, as he bent down and kissed my hand so gently, greeting me. Dressed smartly in a white shirt and deep green jacket with gold buckles, it was like watching something from a very, very old film. The smile on his face, which I had witnessed so many times in my sleep, imprinted now in my memory. I remembered the love beaming from his eyes that blinded me, eclipsing my own. The eyes were deep set, and a piercing blue, like a Morpho butterfly’s outstretched wings; his gaze was full of hope in that moment. Deeper and deeper into the dream I floated, at ease with everything in the haze.
Then I was falling.
I jerked as I felt my body being shaken. In the distance I could hear raised voices and panic. I shot back to reality and flipped my eyes open, taking in the scene around me. I was facing a window. I was lying on my side; the pillow my head was resting on was saturated in crimson. I moved my arm instinctively to wipe away the blood that was still oozing from my lips. I let out a low moan, which was just about all I could manage.
“She’s breathing, she’s back!” I recognized Jonah’s voice from the shadows.
“Time for you to go,” I heard Gabriel instruct, and I felt a small whip of air as Jonah left.
Behind me, Gabriel began stitching up my wound, and for the briefest second I was sure he paused. I felt the tickle of fingertips grazing my back; it was so quick I thought I’d imagined it as the sting of a thousand wasps jabbed me while he continued with his work.
But I knew the extent of the injury would dictate how long it would be before my skin would heal and my body would be back to normal, as if it had never happened. I would fall into a deep sleep, the length of which depended on how badly hurt I was and how much time my body needed to heal and recover.
For as long as I could remember, this is how it had always been for me.
* * *
A FEW HOURS HAD PASSED. I was cocooned in a comforting, thick duvet. My breathing had steadied. My mind was tired and my body ached, but I didn’t want to drift off again. I couldn’t turn my neck to look, but I felt a presence in the room. And even though I couldn’t see him, the light flickering against the darkness of the windowpane told me it was Gabriel.
He moved silently around the bed, positioned an old wooden chair next to me, and sat down. He studied my face and my expression before finally sighing and leaning in closer. With his eyes fixed on mine, he gently placed his fingers against my collarbone. I was intrigued by the look of wonder on his glorious face when he felt the cold chain resting against my skin and I watched him tentatively play with it for a moment before gradually pulling it upward. Only then did he remove his gaze from my own, rolling his head slightly and glancing down.
He lifted the ring, which was threaded through the chain, and placed it in his palm. I watched him as he gaped at the crystal sphere so prominently set at the center of the gold circle. It felt like an eternity before his eyes fell back to my own. He played with the ring lightly in his fingertips, while his stare flipped through the pages of my story, seeking out the chapter that held the answers he seemed to have lost.
Licking his thumb, he wiped the blood away from my stained mouth. Lowering his face to mine, he kissed my top lip, so tenderly it felt like little fairies dancing.
“We have a lot to talk about when you are ready.” He smiled.
Now, strangely contented, I let myself float back into the darkness, and slept.
THREE
A BRIGHT LIGHT FILLED THE BEDROOM and I began to stir. Rays of winter sunlight shimmered against the window, accompanied by a crisp breeze sneaking in where it was slightly open. I sat up—straight up. I couldn’t remember where I was or how long I had been here. I tried to recall what had happened to me, but my head was foggy. I hadn’t died; I knew that.
My arm! I pulled my elbow from under the sheets, but it was fine, my skin smooth and pale as always. I twisted my body around to step out of the bed. My jacket and ballet flats had been placed neatly on a chair in the corner.
Not wanting to make a sound, I tiptoed to the edge of the room as quickly as I could. I had to concentrate hard, as my legs struggled to find the strength to keep me upright. As I bent to grab my shoes, a sudden, sharp pain hit me below my neck. I reached and felt a bandage taped onto my skin. Without much thought I swiftly yanked it off, frowning as the tape tugged. I found a mirror and looked over my shoulder to see a faint mark running across it where my broken skin had been stitched back together.
Then I remembered that I had been shot.
More carefully this time, I pulled my jacket over the torn top I still had on and dipped my toes into the muddied flats. Great—the massive blood stain on my jacket was a surefire way to draw attention. Gently, I peeled it back off and ran my fingers through my hair, which was also splattered in dried blood. Brilliant. I reached for the spare hair tie that lived on my wrist and flipped my blond hair into a giant bun.