Chapter 13
Eric dropped the man abruptly at the sound of Megan’s voice and spun around. The man fell at his feet with a thud, groaning softly on the ground.
When Eric spotted Megan, standing less than ten feet away from him, she trembled visibly. She was wearing a long gown of silky white, the bottom blending into the snowy landscape between them. Her heart was erratic, jumping quickly, and then stopping, only to jump again.
“They said that I am marked by the devil,” Megan said. “That he has claimed my soul.” She rolled her shoulders back, and held her chin high, but she wasn’t fooling Eric. Her fear was evident. Her eyes darted around wildly, her fingers fidgeted with the seams of her dress, and the smell of it wafted around her.
Eric chuckled. The devil. It sounded about right. Forgetting the man on the ground, he stepped over him, and in a blink, he stood in front of his red haired goddess.
“Are you the devil?” she asked, her voice shaking with small tremors, although she kept her shoulders straight as she tried to hide her fear of him.
I found her! a voice in his head shouted. I found her. Eric cocked his head to the side as he gazed into her sad eyes. She watched him expectantly, waiting, and he grinned. “Do I look like the devil?” His heart was pounding in his throat.
“Yes,” she said. She gathered up the bottom of her dress, and tore a strip of fabric from the bottom. Eric watched her curiously, as she gathered the fabric in her hand like a washcloth and began wiping his face. When she was finished, the white fabric was stained scarlet. She gave him a small, shaky smile, dropped the cloth, and then she turned from him and walked to the house. She opened the little picket fence, and without a backwards glance, she marched up the porch steps and vanished inside.
Eric went after the girl who held his soul and heart in the palm of her hand, helpless to do anything else. When he entered the house, warmth washed over him. A welcoming fire flickered in the hearth of the one room cabin, and Megan stood beside it, staring out the window and into the night. She didn’t look at him when he entered the room. “I think they will kill me soon,” she murmured, as he closed the door.
“Hush now.” Eric closed the space between them in four large steps and gathered her in his arms. “Do not speak of such things.”
Megan rested her head on his chest, hugging him closely. “I’m not afraid, Eric.”
“You are not going to die. I won’t let it happen,” Eric said with fervor. Now that he had her, he was never letting go. Never. No one would harm her again.
“What can you do? You’re only a dream. A figment of my imagination. Something I have conjured up to ease my fears.” A small tear glistened as it snaked down her cheek, and she dropped her gaze to the wooden floor. “I’m not naive, Eric. They said I was marked for a devil, so my imagination constructed the devil in my dreams. You are only my mind playing tricks on me, giving me the love that I need before the end and showing me my fears all at once.”
“You’re sleeping,” he breathed, his heart shattering in a burst of sharp-edged pieces. “Megan, you need to tell me where you are,” he said desperately, grabbing her chin in his hands and forcing her to meet his eyes.
But she didn’t answer. Instead, she rolled up onto the tips of her toes, and kissed him. It was full of longing, rough and deep, and in that moment, Eric was powerless to her touch. All reason left him, everything melted away. It was just them, lost in each other.
It wasn’t until morning dawned, and Eric woke up alone, that he realized she had never told him which mountain she was on, or what cave she had crawled into.
****
Eric stood on the lawn outside his house. It looked so daunting, a glaring reminder of his failure. It had been a month, thirty long days, since the last time he had heard Megan’s voice or seen her loving eyes and her blood red spiral locks. The vision that had felt so real, now felt like nothing more than a dream.
For the first time in a month, he felt awake—alive. And being alive was mind numbing and empty.
Eric couldn’t say how long he stood in front of his house, debating on whether he should enter or leave. Now that he was back, he wasn’t so sure that he would be welcomed, or forgiven. Not that he deserved forgiveness. He knew he didn’t, not after the way he had treated Mitchell, but a small part of him hoped …
Eric heaved a sigh and turned his back on the house, ready to leave, when he heard the door creak open. Glancing over his shoulder, he saw Mitchell step out onto the front porch.
“Eric?” Mitchell asked, squinting his eyes against the sunlight.
“Hi, Dad,” Eric said with a little—and more than a little awkward—wave.
“Are you leaving?” Mitchell asked, as he jumped down the steps and raced over to him.
Before Eric could so much as offer a word, Mitchell wrapped a firm arm around his shoulder, and started ushering him up the porch steps. “Eric, you look awful,” he said. “And you smell horrid.”
“Thanks, Dad,” Eric said, because he really didn’t know what else to say, and Mitchell didn’t seem to expect anything else.
He gave Eric’s shoulder a squeeze and said, “I’m glad you’re home.”
Mitchell never asked about Megan, none of them did, and Eric never spoke of her. At first, it was too painful, but then, as time went on, she became a distant memory, feeling more and more like a dream every day. Maybe they were right and someday her spirit would find his again. He knew she was out there, starting a new life. She had to be, because, well, if she wasn’t, he wouldn’t have a link to humanity, and he did. He felt compassion, and empathy, and he knew it all stemmed from her. And all he could hope was that this life would be kinder to her than the last.