Paradox Love: Paradox Love Book 1 (16 page)

She knew the castle well. Her feet touched down, simultaneous with the intended retraction and disappearance of her wings.  The area surrounding the castle was thickly wooded, so that its base existed mostly in darkness, with only tiny pinpoints of light breaking through here and there.  She skirted its base where a portion of the castle extended deeply into the forest. 

Traveling to its furthest end, she circled around to the other side.  And there, tucked in unnoticed, was the entrance she sought.  A curtain of leaves seemed to cling tightly against the dark mortar of the structure.  But one who knew better might pull them back as a curtain from a window to reveal the door beneath.  There were no locks.  None but the citizens of Castellans would ever know this place, and all were welcome.

Abigail stepped inside the first cavernous room, the bright illumination a stark contrast to the dark forest.  Along the inner walls of the castle, massive iron forged sconces lined the walls.  Bright flames bounced like sunlight throughout the space.

The castle was so massive that one might wander from room to room to room never encountering another soul.  Again, you had to know where to look.

Abigail moved to the opposite end of the room where a massive,  intricately crafted tapestry graced the stone wall.  It was magnificent in design, a depiction of the castle itself.  She admired it momentarily before stepping to the side and pulling up a corner of the hanging work of art.  She made enough room to wiggle in behind it, against the wall.  She ran her hands lightly against the wall until she found the handle to the hidden door.

She stepped inside the next room, the same manner of lighting gracing its walls.  The floor was a shining white marble.  This was the gallery room, its walls lined with massive works of art. 

So mesmerizing was the collection of paintings that citizens had been known to enter the room and never get any further into the castle.  Members of the Order were known to delight in the power of these masterpieces, as anyone spending more than the briefest flash admiring them would be held hostage by their magnificence. 

Abigail had learned the lesson well.  She knew that it was best not to indulge even for a moment.  She averted her eyes and made her way to one of four staircases in the massive space.  Each occupied a corner of the room.  They were identical in appearance, but would lead the climber to vastly different experiences in the castle.  She had been a mouse in this maze many times. 

She stepped up the staircase, which continued to the next floor.  After passing through the ceiling above, it opened up into a single massive tower.  There the steps ended.  If you could not conjure your way up, you’d just found one of the castle’s many dead-ends. 

Abigail brought forth her wings and lifted off.  Here the walls were rounded and painted a shiny white, giving the appearance of a vast, vertical tunnel.  Those unfamiliar with this tower might abandon the prospect of using it to find a way into the castle, for it seemed to stretch on indefinitely.  Finally, when even the most determined soul might begin to contemplate turning back, a wide arched opening appeared in the wall. 

Abigail flitted through it and touched down.  This time, she did not retract her wings.  Flynn liked them on. 

The arched hallway connected the tower to Flynn’s quarters in the main castle.  The room was dim, with the soft light of a fire in the hearth and lit candles glowing throughout.  She did not immediately see him when she entered.

“Hello Senior Chancellor,” he spoke softly as he rose from a chair in a shadowed corner of the room. 

He loved the silhouette of her with her wings as they hugged her from behind and softly swept against the floor as she walked.

Abigail was tall, but Flynn towered over her.  He scooped her up and spun her as though it were effortless to do so.   The air moved quickly through the feathers of her wings, producing a rustling sound that he also loved. 

And he knew that if he kept going, something even more wonderful would happen.  Abigail, his Abigail would begin to giggle.  She had to.  She couldn’t help it.  And it worked every time.  Around and around he spun her, until she could no longer hold it in.  And her sweet laughter was an accompaniment to the music of her beautiful wings.

When she’d had enough, she would wrap her arms tightly around his neck and bury her face against his skin.  And then he would stop as their heads continued their frenzied rush, the room spinning around them.  As the dizzy ride began to slow, he would find her lips and kiss her deeply, as her wings opened and spread to include him in their embrace.

Like Abigail, Flynn was a single flame soul.  Although he enjoyed the company of others, he was fiercely independent.  The same was true of Abigail.  Over the course of their relationship, they’d made several attempts to cohabitate.  None had been successful.  Yet when it came to love, no other soul would do for either.  She was his angel, him her warrior.  And each time he kissed her like this, Abigail scolded herself for being unable to tolerate living in the castle with him. 

He scooped her up and carried her toward the bed, which was a work of art in and of itself.  Intricate carvings decorated the massive wooden structure, which was raised from the floor by several feet.  Designed to accommodate its owner, even Flynn had to use a series of steps to access his resting space. 

He climbed the steps with her in his arms, as Abigail once again bid her wings away, for now.  He laid her out on the bed and for a moment, she had the enjoyment of looking into his beautiful face. 

Flynn was a reflection of the forest itself.  His hair was a deep mahogany, falling to and beyond his shoulders.  Even now, she reached up to wrap her hands in it.  His eyes were a pure emerald and when he looked at her, Abigail was always taken aback at her own vulnerability.  No one else had ever made her feel this way. 

He reached down for a kiss as she finally mustered the resolve to tell him why she’d come.  He was inches away when she interrupted their reunion with her words.

“I need your help.”

He smiled, mistaking her words for lover’s play.

“And I offer my help, Senior Chancellor, in any and all ways at my disposal.”

He moved even closer.  His breath fell against her mouth, his eyes locked with hers.

“I’m sorry, dear Flynn, but it’s another kind of help I need.”

He saw the seriousness in her eyes and she the disappointment in his.  He moved slightly to the side and rested an elbow against the bed.  After all, delays increased the anticipation. 

“What is it?”

“Has word reached the castle of the coming ascension?”

“Well, we’re always among the last to receive news.  Has there been an announcement?”

“No, not officially.  The announcement is usually a formality anyway.  Most know it’s coming long before they’re told.”

“Okay.  So why your need for help?”

“Grace was the last of the souls.”

Flynn instantly had a sense of the problem just by this information alone.

“She’s refused her assessment,” she added.

Abigail turned to rest her head on her elbow too, so that she could look him in the face.

“So, what’s the problem?  She can’t stay in receiving forever.”

“Gabe has allowed her to return to Earth in host form several times.  And he intends to allow her another turn.”

The urgency of the situation was not immediately obvious to Flynn.  He hadn’t much interest in matters of the Council, except where Abigail was concerned.

“Word is spreading quickly,” she continued.  I’m sure many members of the Order already know.  Gabriel’s willingness to delay the ascension of Castellans for the sake of Grace’s wishes comes with a price.”

Flynn was listening more intently now.

“What price?”

“Regression.”

“So what’s new?  He’s been paying that price since the day we were born.”

“Not like this.  It’s been easy to accommodate his prior regressions.  This is different.  Where in the past, he might have offended against a single soul or two, this is a direct offense of the million souls on Castellans.  And not just for some pittance of a desire, Flynn, but of their supreme right of ascension.”

“He’s crazy.  Talk some sense into him, Abigail.”

“I’ve tried.”

Flynn rolled to his back.

“Why would he do it?”

“You know why.”

“I pity him.”

“Why?”

“To be a twin flame soul, to be at the mercy of that circumstance.  I pity him.”

“He doesn’t want your pity, Flynn.”

“No, just my help.”

“He didn’t ask for your help.”

“Then why are you here?”

“
I
am
asking for your help.”

He turned his head to face her again.

“What is it?  What do you need?”

“Gabriel’s regression will begin with his next transference.  He’s going with her.”

“He’s crazy.  You realize he’s crazy, don’t you?”

“Yes, yes.  Crazy.  I agree.  But all the more reason to help him, I think.”

“The roaches will smell him from worlds away.  He’ll be easy prey.”

A solemn nod was her only response this time.

“When?” he asked.

Abigail closed her eyes in concentration.  It was easier to get a better sense of Gabe’s intentions that way.

“Before the moon rises over Castle Recchia.”

Flynn’s eyes widened.  “You’re crazy, too, Abigail.  What you should have asked is that the Order retrieve the two of them and drag them through the assessment hall doors.”

“And ask you to invite regression yourself?”

“The lesser of two evils.”

“I’m not sure about that.  And anyways, it’s impossible.  A soul dragged into their assessment will not be given one.  The laws won’t allow it.  Each must go willingly.  You know that.”

She knew that his irritation was a flash, and perhaps an exaggerated one.  Flynn was never more alive than in times past, when he stood to protect the citizens of Castellans against roach attacks.  She knew that beneath his words of disapproval, was a warrior eager to fight again.

“Will the Order help?  Will
you
help?”

Before she could resist, he bounded from his resting position and pinned her to the bed.  This time he did not allow her speaking to interrupt, as he bent to kiss her.  Then he drew his face a few inches from hers.

“You owe me, Abigail,” he said with a smile.

* * * * *

Grace had kept her eyes closed the entire time.  She didn’t want to see the white space around her.  She wanted to see the green of trees, the blue of the sky.  She wanted to see the colors of Earth.  She’d been alone for a while and she did not expect that Gabe would return until after Luke had moved on.  He knew she would not go willingly to her assessment until then. 

She had once felt some comfort in this place.  There had been a feeling of safety and acceptance.  But now she was experiencing it as a cold sterility, an absence of warmth.  She didn’t know if it was just her own perception, or whether it was intentional and designed to make her feel uncomfortable.  Didn’t matter.  She wasn’t moving. 

There was no way to measure time and no way to know if time even mattered on Castellans.  What seemed like minutes in this world could be years on Earth.  It was only one of many maddening thoughts she’d dwelled on as she sat at the transference room door.

Without the full knowledge that would come with her assessment, it was impossible to make sense of all that she’d been told.  Why the decisions of one seventeen year-old girl could have any significant impact on Castellans was perplexing.  She continued to counsel herself that it wasn’t her problem.  She was not a citizen of Castellans. 

Although she did not feel that anyone here had been intentionally dishonest, she continued to resist the proposition that she and Luke had no history, that they were not destined to be together.  She knew him.  Not just from her time on Earth.  It was more than that.  It went so much further.  She knew him.

When frustration and hopelessness threatened to defeat her, she let her imagination free.  She had lengthy conversations with Luke in her mind.  She pictured him, reconstructed his voice, let herself absorb every word.  And then she lost all thoughts of hopelessness.  It was only the two of them.  Nothing else existed as she used every ounce of concentration to visualize their reunion.

Gabe stood in the doorway of his office.  With a mix of emotions, he felt the intensity of Grace’s efforts to manifest her desires.  She was a gifted artisan, even here in limbo. 

They were eternally bound.  There had been many times when Grace was on Earth for education while he remained on Castellans.  During those times he’d felt utterly helpless as she was experiencing lifetimes of human existence.  He’d wept for her pain and for his own powerlessness to provide her relief as she lived through war, famine and all manner of atrocities.  And in every one those times, he would have gladly taken her place.  He would have gladly assumed the burden if it meant a reprieve for Grace.