2. Carlisle
CARLISLE
I t’s all gray and blurred. The darkness is everywhere and it moves about the unsuspecting people. And then there’s her. Bright and so easily seen. She calls to me like I prayed to the gods she would. What I would give to be mortal again so she could see me as I see her.
Time…in time… I stop the thought, hating what must be done.
For now, my frustration only grows.
My focus drifts back to her in the present moment. The golden flecks in her deep brown eyes. Her long and lush dark brown hair. The soft curves of her face and the pale pink of her lips…breathtaking. She’s gorgeous and her light shines wherever she goes. My eyes close and I swear I can still smell her. Her fragrance lingers in the rain.
I follow her—gorgeous curves, beautiful and sensual even under the fabric of her raincoat. I notice each shiver and the way she pulls her hood tight over her hair as if it will hide her from me.
Nothing could hide her from me.
Once she’s gone into the café, letting out a gust of warm coffee-scented air into the cold, damp outdoors, and once the door is shut behind her, I stay out of sight and only watch. It’s torture. Being so close, yet so far away.
She’s only taking off her hood and sliding the raincoat off her shoulders, but even those simple movements heat my long-felt desire for her. The embers blaze deep in my soul. I watch as she runs her hand over her hair, combing her fingers through it and letting the droplets of rain disperse.
Every little thing she does is mesmerizing.
Heat courses through my body. I know her fear. It permeates around her, stifling what must be done. She’s afraid of my presence because she doesn’t know me, and that causes the deepest anger of all.
I don’t mean to linger, but when I’m halfway past, I realize I can see her.
The window is fogged with droplets running down the glass. In those thin tracks, I can see her face.
See her eyes. See them widen as she notices my presence. My heart rages with her. I can practically feel her blood pounding through her veins.
Recognize me, I plead silently. Know me. You know me.
But she doesn’t. My throat tightens as I swallow, clenching and unclenching my fists. It’s been too long and still I cannot contain myself.
For a minute I let myself imagine opening the door to the café. Would she run from me? If she saw me, would she sense fear or something else? If she truly saw me. Adrenaline courses through me and I debate what to do. She walks faster when she thinks I’m nearby. I can tell she’s nervous by way she bites on her lip.
Part of me wouldn’t mind a longer chase, but I’m past the point of wanting to drag this out. My heart beats impatiently. If there was a spark of recognition in her eyes, I might take the chance, but there isn’t. There’s only fear.
I’ve done terrible things in my existence. Horrid deeds. But nothing could prepare me for what I made a deal to do. With a steadying breath I tilt my head back, feeling the rain. Feeling alive in a way I haven’t in so long.
I step away from the window and stay hidden behind the next building.
Waiting, planning, knowing I only have so much time.
When she comes out, she’s already moving quickly. She pulls the hood of her coat over her hair and goes down the street almost at a run. Someone watching might think it’s because of the rain. A damsel who does not care to be drenched.
But I know it’s because she can sense me. I know it’s fear that pushes her to move faster. Her fingers shake around her hood, and when it drops back off her hair, she doesn’t try to pull it up again. She only runs faster, turning a corner up ahead and disappearing.
I’m so far away, and yet I swear I can hear her heart beat and her breath quicken.
I could follow her if I wanted, but I go the opposite direction instead. A deep sorrow clenches around every limb.
Another woman steps out of a building down the block. A woman I recognize and one who is very well aware of what’s happening. I choose to follow her instead. A woman of influence and power. A beauty wars have been fought over.
Blonde hair, blue eyes, and fair skin. A Greek god who stands out in this muted world. She must be here for me. For us.
I quicken my pace and correct my features, heart pounding with very real frustration, but she makes it difficult, going faster, too.
I catch up with Aphrodite and fall into step at her side. Her light hair is swept back from her face, and she doesn’t seem to care about the damp air.
“How long will it take?”
Her eyes flicker toward me. We’ve come to an intersection of two of Edinburgh’s old streets. This woman isn’t looking at me. She’s only looking to see if there’s traffic.
A car passes us, the tires squeaking on the cobblestones.
“How long will what take?” she asks.
I don’t want to play these games. Getting straight to the point will be faster, although I pay my respects. She granted me this gift. It is only because of Aphrodite a demon can walk the realms of Earth. “How long will it take for her to remember?”
Aphrodite purses her lips. She glances into a dark storefront as we pass it. Nothing inside catches my eye, and nothing seems to catch hers, either. The street we’re on and the storefronts seem meaningless.
All that matters is that Ivy remembers me.
“Those threads were cut,” comes the reply. She’s matter of fact. The goddess of love and beauty is short with me and my eyes widen, stinging with the past pain that clings to me harder the closer I get to her.
“But I remember.” My heart thuds with the agony of remembering so much when the only love I’ve ever known remembers nothing. We’ve had lifetimes together. Every lifetime. My soulmate, my everything. Ripped apart only at our last death. The memories flash before my eyes. The rage and the brutal sadness.
“I’ve spent weeks following her around Edinburgh, hoping she’ll turn around and her eyes will light up with all that’s passed between us, but she’s only getting further away. She walks fast on the street and ducks into cafés and shivers when she feels me following her like I’m a stranger who wants to do her harm.”
Her pale blue eyes pierce into mine. “You weren’t sent back. How can she remember what does not exist? How can she remember when the Fates cut the threads?” She is only factual. Logical. Although it feels cold, the gods have a way of coming off as such.
“She’ll never remember?” I murmur the question, hoping for a different answer but knowing it won’t come. Anger burns through me and a deep sadness that might even have echoes of fear swallows thickly at the idea that so many memories would be lost to her. Everything we shared, everything we built, everything we felt for one another can’t be gone. I can’t be the only one to carry those memories. The anger grows too intense for me to keep it under control, and I reach out in desperation for Aphrodite, pulling her to a stop on the sidewalk. “You told me she’d love me.”
She blinks at my harsh whisper, her eyes sharp, then looks down at where my hand is wrapped around her arm.
“This isn’t the underworld,” she says, her voice scolding. My heart slows and I take a step back. The mere fact that Ivy will never remember begs a good part of my soul to be struck dead by her or any god.
“I was told a deal was made.” I force myself to speak calmly, keeping my voice quiet so I don’t attract any attention.
The woman sighs like I’m asking too much from her. I don’t think I’ve asked enough.
“You never would’ve found her without me. You wouldn’t even be allowed to sneak into this realm. Remember that. None of this would have happened without my grace.” Her eyes meet mine, and there’s a dark judgment in them. “What you did…”
I glance down at the sidewalk for only a moment, pain clenching in my chest and heat burning in my face. These memories are just as painful as the idea of Ivy forgetting everything and never knowing me again.
“The threads being cut was a punishment I didn’t deliver but one I understood. Know that.”
With a tight throat I respond, “Hecate collects me for the army of the dead every night before the full moon under the last thread of light. I am doing what I can to make amends and repent.”
I mean every word of it. I feel it all in the depths of my soul.
She speaks under her breath as the people walk by and we stand still. “You were meant to only feel betrayal and nothing more. Barely any time has passed and you still feel love for her…that is what convinced me. Do not disappoint.”
I can only nod, swallowing thickly.
She looks away and begins walking again. I walk by her side, desperate to continue the conversation and at a loss for words. How I feel is mostly a howl of rage, and this woman will pretend not to understand.
“It would be wise of you to remember who I am and what I’m capable of,” she warns.
“Yes, my lady,” I answer diligently.
We pass several buildings. The mist is getting heavier. It’ll rain again soon.
I think of her. And what tonight will be. Ivy stays inside when the sky opens up and the rain pours down. She’ll shut herself in her room, wrap a blanket around her shoulders, and stay in until she has to leave again for a class or for her studies, and I’ll spend every second fighting with myself.
Aphrodite goes into a hotel and passes the front desk without looking at the man behind it. He doesn’t look up at us, either. We turn down a wide, dimly lit hallway with large sets of doors on either side. The lights flicker as she walks by.
As she’s about to turn into an even darker hallway, she turns to face me, looking up into my eyes, and the shame I felt earlier comes back to me. I don’t think it will ever let me go, but that’s not what I need to know most of all.
“Is this more of a punishment, then?” It’s difficult to force the words out, the question leaving my mouth in a rough demand. The goddess’s lips press into a thin line. She has to know what this is doing to me. Maybe she even came here to taunt me with what she knows, and now she’s glad to see that it’s working. “To add on to my pain? To have her and for her not to know?”
I expect her to say yes. That would make the most sense, for this to be a cruel punishment I can’t escape from.
She reaches out and touches my sleeve. I’m surprised at how soft the touch is.
“She will,” she replies simply, and I let out a long breath. If this is out of pity or even a lie, I can’t bring myself to accept that now. “She’s going to love what you do to her,” the woman continues, her tone almost wistful. But then her eyes harden again, and she looks at me with disapproval. “Perhaps you may act on such things before it’s too late.”
With the knowledge of what was suggested I do reiterated by yet another god, I stand numb, hating what must happen and yet hopeful.
She doesn’t even look back at me. She just walks around the next corner and vanishes into a mirror.