Featherlight (19 page)

Oh, I should have paid more
attention in science class. The air flashed, and I soon laughed at my own
recklessness. I was playing with the storm, so maybe I had a death wish. I
would much rather die free in the air than face my past all over again with a
different man. My fate would be my own.

Wind whipped my hair and warm
rain began buffeting my body. I couldn’t hear Peter. In fact, the only sounds
in this weather were the wind, thunder, and rain.

Slowly, my wings began getting
heavier. Without meaning to, I began banking towards the earth. I picked up
speed as my wings got harder and harder to beat. They had gotten wet, and the
rain weighed them down too much. It was too dark to see well, even with my
newly outstanding vision. The ground was a light mass, growing closer. My
stomach dropped, and I fought to regain control.

I hit the ground hard and
rolled a few times, finally coming to a stop. My knees and hands stung, but I
ignored the pain. The need to flee from Peter had faded. I had finally lost
him. I had won.

I sprawled out on the ground,
exhausted. My wet wings were now muddy, dark, and quivering with weariness. I
needed to put more distance between Peter and me, but I couldn’t convince my body
to move. My lungs burned and every muscle stung.

My eyes were weighed down with
fatigue. They closed shut.

My mother's face is talking
to me, telling me to hide. Angry fists bang on the back door, demanding
attention. I stand, frozen. Mom yanks the hall closet open and gives me a
gentle shove. My glasses fall on the floor as I scramble inside. The closet is
packed with boxes and clothing and my fear. It stinks of mothballs. The man
banging on the door begins yelling threats at us. My mother does the least
reasonable thing and opens the door. It slams into the wall as my mom cries out
in fear or pain. My heart is pounding, and my emotions are wild. What do I do?
Fear paralyzes my thoughts and body. Where is my courage?

A shadow passes by the
closet. My glasses are crushed with a finalizing crunch. I hear him hit my
mother, and I open the door. I scream at him. Instead of leaving, he turns
around and walks to me. His face warps as he yanks me out of the closet and
onto the ground.

“Stop! Stop!” I yell at him.

My eyes opened. Rain fell on my
cheek, blending with the tears. A voice in the distance called out, but I
couldn’t move. The voice grew louder, and I realized with relief that it was a
woman. I couldn’t think, and I couldn’t place the voice. She was calling my
name. Jacque.

A man’s voice joined hers. He
told her that he saw me. They were far, but I couldn’t run. My body burned and
ached. I had to run. Slowly, I lifted my head and glanced around for danger. The
rain had finally stopped, and I found the two shapes in the sky, coming towards
me. I was warm but couldn’t stop shivering. My brain was sluggish, and my body
knew that I was weak and vulnerable.

A large rock was within
crawling distance, and I began dragging my body to it in order to hide. I
collapsed behind the rock, out of immediate sight of the two shapes. I was
lucky to not have landed on it during my fall. The rock offered little
protection since they had already spotted me, but it was the best my battered
body could do.

The two people had stopped
calling my name, but their wing beats were growing louder. They were getting
closer. Two light thuds came from behind my rock. I curled into a ball, trying
to hide.

“Jacque?” A woman walked around
the rock and crouched down by me. I glanced around, unsure. A man followed her,
and I automatically cringed. Using the rest of my strength, I began crawling
backwards, away from him.

“John,” the woman said in
warning. The name was familiar. In fact, I
knew
him, but I wasn’t in
control of my body right now. Some inner force had taken over my limbs, turning
me into some kind of animal.

John ignored her and walked
over to me, kneeling down. I looked down and away, avoiding eye contact at all
costs. He used two fingers and lifted my chin. I squeezed my eyes shut and
swiped at his hand while involuntarily crying out in anger. The cry was
desperate and indignant. What was that noise? I should have been embarrassed,
but I wasn’t.

I curled up into the fetal position
and kept my eyes closed.

“Jacque. Look at me,” John
commanded.

His command would have merited
one of my fingers telling him that he was number one if I hadn’t have been so
out of it. As it was, one traitorous eye cracked open, unable to resist.

His eyes were serious and
heated. Fortunately, they were heated with anger and not with passion. Or maybe
that was unfortunately? It was nice to know that my hormones worked fine while
my body was beaten and battered. Even though he was attractive, I was still praying
that he didn’t start the chase. I wouldn’t have a chance in hell at winning,
and no man was attractive enough to make me happy in a forced marriage. Or relationship.
Or whatever a lost chase meant on this planet. My instincts knew that I needed
to stall. Already, my strength was beginning to return. Another light landing
signaled that someone else had joined the party.

"The chase with Peter would
not have started if you hadn't been running," John told me. Was he
chastising me for fleeing? How dare him! He was the reason I had been running
away in the first place.

Right now, I could care less
about Peter. I was in short term mode, and I was most definitely in immediate
danger. All I cared about was avoiding this man in front of me. Does that mean
that John can’t start the chase right now since I’m not running?

I snapped my eyes shut, just in
case John decided he wanted to take me while I was out for the count.

I asked, “Why not?”

“Because you had already won
against him the first day you arrived on Auro. For him to start another true chase,
you had to willingly run.”

I cursed into the same mud my
cheek was pressed. I was angry at myself, even though I didn’t know that
particular rule. I should have done more research on chases instead of reading
stupid lullary
romance novels.

“John,” a man said expectantly.

“What?” John snapped back.

“Now,” the man said. I finally
realized that the voice belonged to the Marshal.

I knew what the Marshal wanted,
and I knew that my time being new was about to end. John had stood and was now
gazing over me. If I could have spit in his face from my submissive position, I
would have. My last defying act as a free woman.

John whispered, “I can’t.”

“What?” The Marshal sounded as
surprised as I was.

“Look at her!” John yelled.

I tried to imagine what I
looked like from John’s point of view, and it wasn’t pretty. I was curled up
like a whipped puppy and probably had dirt caked over my skin and wings. Okay,
I knew that I looked terrible, but come on! I had just finished fleeing a
princely womanizer. Give me some credit.

“Exactly! Don’t be the one
responsible for some lower man taking her. Trust me: you will be doing Jacque a
favor.”

John glanced down at me, torn.

“Okay, fine.” John locked eyes
with me, and they began to swirl darkly. Before the chase started, John was
interrupted.

“No!” Rene yelled, standing
over me.

Her distraction gave me enough
time to find my voice. “You can’t just force this on me again! I won’t be
yours! I won’t be anyone’s!” I screamed incoherently, barely holding my sobs
back.

John and Marshal looked
shocked. My heart was pounding and my muscles were slowly throbbing.

Rene blocked me from John. “She
needs more time, and Peter is no longer a threat. You don’t understand her the
way I do… Taking her will change her forever. She would be miserable because she
wasn’t raised like us.”

Rene looked at me with
apologetic eyes and told John, “Her father, many years ago, hurt her deeply. It
would work in your advantage if you gave her some time.”

Rene’s voice held a different
edge to it when she said the last sentence, like she was trying to tell John
something important. How did she know? John’s eyes widened, narrowed, and then
settled on me.

“What did he do to you?” He
asked sharply, swooping down to kneel by my side.

“Nothing,” I said, thrown off
by the sudden change.

“Did he hit you?”

“No.”

“Did he touch you?”

“N-no.” Goddammit. My voice
faltered, and John heard it.

“Where?” John’s voice demanded
an answer.

“Nowhere.” I squeezed my eyes
shut from the intensity and turned my head.

“Jacque. Tell me what he did to
you.” John placed a comforting arm on my shoulder, and I knocked it away.

“Shut up! Just shut up! I took
care of it, okay? He can’t hurt me anymore… He can’t hurt us.”

I had finally lost control.
After all these years, my resolve suddenly disintegrated. During my cutting and
my depression, I had never relinquished control of myself. I didn’t spill a
single tear the day that doctor told me I had leukemia.

I never let myself cry or feel
self pity or weakness. A commanding voice, long day, and difficult situation
turned into a dangerous mixture for me, and I could no longer hold in my
emotions. Suddenly, I hated myself for losing control and for letting my dad
make me cry once again, but I just couldn’t stop it.

The tears poured silently down
my face, foraging a path through the dirt. I tried to stand up in order to look
less pitiful, but my legs buckled under me. I dropped back down to the ground
on my knees and then let my forehead touch the damp soil. With my face hidden
to these strangers, I began to sob.

Sobbing was not attractive. The
funny thing was, whenever you truly cried, you didn’t care what you looked like.
The pain in your heart outweighed all other worries. Right then, I had a lot of
built up pain. I cried for my mother and for every hit that landed on her. I
cried for my younger self and my loss of innocence. I cried for my helplessness
when the sick man that was my father touched me, and I cried for the pain and
fear I had felt that night when my hands were bound, my cries muffled.

I sobbed there on the ground
for any child that had ever gone through what I had, and I sobbed for all of
the children that would be molested in the future.

As I cried out my past, my pain
began to ease. The tears ran slower and my sadness started fading. Soon, I
began to notice that the air around me was buzzing with energy. I glanced at
John through blurry eyes. He was standing still with tense muscles and a
clenched jaw. His eyes spoke of anger and murder.

When I met his gaze, he leaped
into the air and propelled himself into the sky. I stared unabashedly and then
looked at the Marshal. He had turned to give me some privacy and was now
staring at the ground. All of my remaining energy had been drained because of
my sobbing session. I really wanted to get back to Oman and Jane’s house and
take a warm shower.

As if reading my mind, Rene put
her arms around me and said, “Let’s get you home.”

“No,” John said, landing again.
He knelt down and scooped me into his arms.

I was too tired to fight, but I
did give him a shove and a half-hearted “stop.”

“Be still,” he said, stretching
his wings.

Before I could respond, we were
airborne. I was unsure of John’s intentions, and that made me very, very
afraid. Although it was little comfort, it did make the whole scenario more tolerable
knowing that nothing I could do would change the outcome. Wow. I had never been
tired enough to not mind being helpless. I guess there was a first time for
everything.

Speaking of first times, I
should start getting worried. I had no idea where we were going, and I couldn’t
look down from this position in his arms. On the bright side, my view of the
sky was magnificent. Or was it John’s face that was magnificent?

Oh buddy, I needed to get
control of myself. But while my thoughts are on him, I had to dwell on his
wings. From this angle, I could see the tops of them on his upward beat. They
were a deep golden that complemented the lightly grayed sky.

He noticed me staring at him
and looked down, locking our eyes together.

John quietly spoke. “I’m
sorry.”

I was not exactly sure of what
he was referring, but I had an inkling.

I didn’t have to yell over the
wind since John’s hearing was as good as mine, but old habits die hard, I
guess. “It wasn’t your fault. Besides, it was a long time ago. Where are you
taking me?”

Ah, the moment of truth.
Unfortunately, his answer was given to me cryptically.

He leaned down and murmured,
“I’m doing things your way.”

It was definitely the chilly
air that gave me goose bumps. Besides, what the heck did that mean?

“What?” I asked John, still
yelling.

“Aren’t you tired? You’ve had a
long day,” he said while ignoring my question.

“No, I’m as fresh as a daisy,”
I lied, fooling no one.

His wings softly beat the air
like a lullaby, and I was asleep within minutes.

Part XIX

It was not often that I awoke to
the sound of chirping birds. My mind was blissfully peaceful, and I felt
completely unworried and at ease. That was, until yesterday’s events came
rushing back to my head.

Where exactly was I? Luckily, I
was still new, because I’m pretty sure that John couldn’t have started the chase
while I was asleep.

To say that I had slept like
the dead would be an understatement. My body needed healing badly after the chase
with Peter, and I had stayed in a dreamless coma for two days. Apparently, my
inner circadian clock had been amped up by the change, because I somehow knew
how much time had passed. From the feel of sheets on my skin, I could tell that
I was in a bed. I cracked open one eye, not wanting anyone to know that I was
awake.