The Journey (12 page)

He huffed. “If I were but a mere shadow of my former self, I would mark you with my teeth.”

“Pfft. If you were but a mere shadow of your former self, I wouldn’t have come within a thousand miles of you. Much less, held your hand.”

“Wise girl.” He looked up toward the ceiling. “Very wise indeed.”

I didn’t say anything as I started packing up my things. He lightly touched my back before next he spoke.

“You were my favorite kind—all smiles… believing that life was wondrous and the world was full of magic. I envied the ones like you.”

“You mean… you
hated
the ones like me.”

“Hated? Well… perhaps. I wanted what you had—mountains of love and oceans full of faith. I envied them. I envy
you
.”

“And yet… you said they were your favorite. Tell me. Did you think by claiming that person, by binding them to
your
will, you would somehow
feel
the things they felt?”

“Perhaps. Or… perhaps it was simply the light in their captivated eyes. I loved looking upon that gloriously hope-filled sparkle.”

“So… what happened? Did they lose their sparkle, their wonderment?”

He cut his glance sideways towards me. “You know they did. The saddest thing I ever bore witness to—watching that enchanting sparkle die away.”

“Well…” I took another drink of water before going on. “…that’s because a heart can never be
owned
, Azazel. It must be fed, nourished, loved. If you cage it up and demand it perform simply for your amusement, how can it continue to shine like it once did? You, yourself, are a perfect example—all the glory of heaven… now bound and withering.”

He sort of grunted, or… perhaps it was a growl. “Take what you came for and be gone, human. I grow tired of your ridiculous drivel.”

“Very well, oh mighty one. I’ll get on with it and get out of your celestial hair. But… when the truth hurts, it’s always better to figure out
why
. Not simply get angry because it did.”

He snorted and looked away.

“Alright, Azazel. I’ll shut up now.” I took his hand and gave it a little squeeze. “Do you have a preference where I should, umm…
stick
you?”

I held up my thumbnail as he glanced back towards me, a tiny smile now tugging at the left side of his parched lips.

“I will leave that decision up to you, little one. It will feel the same to me no matter from whence you choose to draw my blood.”

“I prefer not to do it where you have already been cut.”

“Then your options are few.”

“Yeah… that’s just what I was thinking.”

“The mark you will leave upon me will be but a tiny one. Do not fear, Jem. Your cut will not hurt me.”

“Oh, hang on.” I dug back through my bag. “Here we go.” I pulled out a little travel sized box of bandages. “Sorry. They are little pink pony ones. That’s all I got. But they have antibiotic ointment already on them. Nothing’s worse than a fingernail scratch—full of germs and yucky stuff. It takes a human scratch longer to heal than a cat scratch. Not sure why, though. Cats have
got
to have nastier habits than people do.”

“Shhh…” He touched my trembling hand. “It will be fine, Jem. I promise. And the next time you come here, you won’t even bat a lash as you draw my blood. The first time is always the hardest.”

“Yeah… I guess you’re right.”

“Of course I am. Now, come.
Stick
me.” He smiled when I hesitated. “I promise not to scream. Well… not
too
loudly.”

I returned his reassuring smile. “You’re not helping.”

“Yes I am. Now, do what it is you were chosen to do.”

He gently caressed my cheek then. I couldn’t help but meet his now tender gaze. We stayed like that for several heartbeats before he broke our silence.

“I lied,” he softly whispered.

I didn’t speak.

“I do not truly wish you to leave. I have not spoken for centuries. My voice has lain dormant within me. You gave it life again.”

He smiled then, truly smiled. It was breathtaking. Something about him had changed. He still looked the same, yes—decrepit, ancient, mummified. And yet… at the same time… he looked almost alive… almost new.

“In our few short moments together here, you have shown me more compassion than I ever bestowed upon another living creature. You lift me up… and fill me with shame.”

“But I never meant to—”

“Shhh…” He touched my speaking lips. “My feelings are mine own. You cannot claim authorship to my words,
or
my thoughts.”

I sat there perfectly still, desperately praying for him to look away, to break the heart-shattering gaze we now held. Yet, he did not. I felt the cool path my tears left upon my trembling cheeks. Still, his haunting eyes did not waver from mine.

“I will share with you something I should not, little one. I wish to return the kindness you have so easily gifted me this day.”

I couldn’t agree
or
protest. My tongue lay dormant behind my now clenched teeth. I didn’t feel
stricken
, or anything. I simply felt nothing, really. No admiration or loyalty or subservience. Yet, I could not look away. The longer I listened to his voice, the sweeter it became.

“As you start down this lonesome path… you will meet creatures great and small, strange and common. Many will be there to help you. Many will simply ignore your presence. And a few will even wish you harm. Spend precious few moments within the Nether, child. Use it as a gateway only. Do not linger where you do not belong. You are a Witness, yes. Yet you are not meant to record the goings-on
there
. Keep your head down, always. And most importantly… never run out of my tainted blood. It is the key you will ever need.”

Without breaking our locked gaze, he lifted the pendant and gently ran his thumb across the stones. When he smiled again, I mirrored his gesture.

“When your travels force you to return to me, I wish to hear all the stories your shoes could tell
if
they were granted speech.” He tenderly lifted my hand and lightly placed it upon his emaciated chest. “Stick me here, Jem. It is only right for my flesh to display without what my soul is now experiencing within.”

“You wish me to pierce you
here
? Over your heart?”

“Yes.” He smiled again. “Fear not. You have already pierced me there. You simply cannot see the damage with your eyes.”

“That’s not funny, Azazel.”

“It was not meant to be.” He pressed my hand against his chest. “Please… draw blood from here.”

I stared into his pleading eyes for a long moment, before reluctantly complying.

“Very well. I asked.”

“Yes, you did. And you will never have to ask again. My answer will always and forever be… draw the blood from my heart.”

I furrowed my brow as I examined the brittle flesh covering his all-too-visible ribcage. “Ugh… I think I like you better when you’re being a smarty pants.”

He chuckled. “I am certain you do. I am not blind, little one. I can see well—you have a problem with emotional closeness. You said you used physical contact when you didn’t have the words to express yourself. This is not true. You use physical contact—like massaging my hand—not to communicate, but to keep your distance. You use touch to guard your heart… and the mighty fortress you have it locked within—
touch
. It is strange, Jem.
You
are strange.”

I half smiled. “
There’s
the Azazel I know and love.”

He chuckled again. “You do not know me. Neither do you love me.”

He paused long enough for me to stop what I was doing and meet his gentle gaze.

“Umm… Sorry, but you ended that sentence like there was more to come.”

“Because there is, lovely Jem. So… much… more.”

“Stop it, Angel. You’re giving me the willies.”

He half laughed when I visibly shivered.

“Yes… terrified of emotional attachments.”

“That’s not true. You know nothing about me, Azazel—proven by that statement alone. I’m one of the most
emotional
people you will ever meet. I cry at the drop of a hat—watching kittens pretend they are lions, hearing children squeal with laughter, lying on my back in a field while the gentle breeze bends the daisies down to kiss and tickle my flesh.”

“Those are tears of joy. They do not count. And I didn’t say you had a problem being
emotional
. I said you feared
emotional
attachment
. Those are two entirely different things, child.”

I didn’t go on. I knew exactly what he was talking about, but I refused to have this uncomfortable conversation. Especially with him.

“You do not have to speak aloud concerning your tears of sorrow. I know, minus your words… they are many… and they are often. Yet… even those tears are shed at a distance.”

“Please… stop.”

Azazel gently touched my cheek. “Who was he?”

“Who was who?”

“The man who broke your heart, rendered it incapable of meaningful connection.”

“What makes you think there was a man?”

“So… a woman then?”

“…No.”

“Then it
was
a man. Please, Jem. Tell me what he did to you.”

“He left me.”

“And… you let his loss of interest affect you so deeply?”

“He didn’t lose interest.” I looked away, wiping my nose. “He died. And all too soon, at that.” I swallowed hard. “I mentioned him to you earlier. Do you not remember?”

“Ahh, yes. I see… Drella. He was
the
one
, then?”

“Yes… he was. Never again have I felt the way Drella made me feel.”

“Have you ever tried? Has any other man been given the same chance this
Drella
was given?”

“What’s the point?” I wiped my face and sniffed. “We’re mortal. We die. I’d rather spend my days investing in things that matter, things that will live on long after I’m gone. Fully investing my heart in a single person of
this
realm… it is an effort in futility. I’d rather give my love to the world, sprinkle seeds of hope across the globe. Then perhaps… perhaps…”

“Shhh now, child.” He gently patted my hand. “I did not mean to cause such distress. Still, I worry for you—having your heart set on solitude at such a young age.”

“Young… Hmpft. My body may not yet be ancient… but sometimes my
soul
feels like it is.” Fresh tears burned the backs of my eyes then. “The day I lost Drella… I lost myself. After
years
of just waking up and blindly accepting what the day had to offer me, I woke up one morning and realized… I only have a finite number of days on this planet—days I am
forced
to cash in with each new dawn. I decided then and there that
I
would be the one deciding how I would spend those precious, irreplaceable days I had been gifted. I don’t have a clue how many I’ll actually end up being blessed with, no, but I refuse to waste even one more… doing something that does not lift my heart. I determined that my days would no longer be spent in mourning, but on trying to find a bit of peace and happiness… and then sharing what I could of that with the world. I still carry the grief with me. Every. Single. Day. Some days it’s bearable, and some days I fear the weight of it will crush me. Yet, it no longer controls my life.”

“Your words are beautiful and healing, fair Jem. Ahh… to be loved as
that
man was loved.”

“Yes…” My voice cracked then. “We loved each other deeply.”

“Shhh now, little one.” He squeezed my hand. “We shall save those remains for another day.”

“…Thanks.”

“Tell me. What is your favorite part of the day?”

“My favorite part of the day? Wow, that’s a pretty random question. Hmm… I guess I’d have to say nighttime.”

He chuckled softly. “That is not
day
.”

“I know.” I shrugged my shoulders. “But that’s when my mind comes to life. Things seem clearer… when the sun goes down.”

“I can see that.” He gently touched my cheek. “It is easier for you to hide in the dark. Am I right? Easier to submerge deeper into your private little solitude—encompassed by the night.”

“Azazel… what about
leaving those remains for another day
?”

“Apologies. Apologies. I did promise to leave that bit alone, didn’t I?”

“Yes, you did.”

“And so I shall. Now, tell me. What do you think of dusk? What do you feel during the twilight hours?”

“Huh? Oh, well I… I don’t particularly like the dusk. I hate the way it makes things look. Like… when you’re driving—it’s not dark enough for the headlights to be of any use, but it’s not light enough to see very well. It messes with me. In truth, I like to already be where I’m going when dusk falls. I sort of feel…
uncomfortable
outside, when day is changing into night.”