Part 6 (1/2)

”Different race,” I interject.

”Oh,” he says with a shrug, ”that was your own doing,” he points out as a matter of fact, as though it is common knowledge.

”Really?” He nods in answer, his eyebrows arched expertly.

I stare at them a little more, noting all their similarities, beyond those he's pointed out. The two of them are absolutely identical, except for skin tones and eye colour.

”So I gave you my grandfather's eyes?” I question puzzled.

”Yep, it's all you. Are they your grandfather's eyes?” I nod.

”Nice, thanks. I like them. You took your time though, deciding what color of eyes to grant me.”

”Oh yeah, I remember... Sort of... Your eyes kept changing color,” I say remembering the scariest moment of my life. I had no idea then that it was I that kept giving him all his features. Granting him.

”Why did I make you hot?” I ask, trying my best to mask my fear with humour. ”I should have thrown in some bad skin condition, and terrible hair at least,” I say, as I stare at the neatly done cornrows adorning Ariel's head, and the perfect way with which Raphael's locks fall over each other. The Sun-prince chuckles lightly to this before answering.

”Only you can answer that. You gave us these bodies,” Ariel answers with a wink.

”So if I wanted, could I have made you female instead?” He nods in answer to my question.

”Ugly? Short? Fat?” He shrugs to this.

”You cannot change our nature though, guardian,” Ariel says with an amused expression. ”And the bodies you grant us, mirror our nature.”

”What do you mean?” I ask puzzled.

”Your power is not as great as you think,” Raphael interjects to say coldly, chilling the playful mood between Ariel and I instantly. ”You can only mold us to our souls' image. You looked at our souls, saw us for who we truly are, and you thereafter granted us the respective human forms we deserve. Need.”

There's a coldness that hangs in the air after he speaks, an iciness that not even the warm smile from Ariel, or my denial, can thaw, and is the reason for the increased cold chills racing up and down my body. I fold my hands against my laps to hide their shaking before speaking up again.

”What do you want from me?” I finally whisper. Ariel looks at me with those large soulful eyes that represent all the comfort I hunger for right this moment. However, I now know well enough not to expect comfort from those eyes. It is just an illusion.

”To live,” he answers simply. I must look confused, for he ventures to add, ”we need you to stay alive.”

”Am I in danger?” I ask scared, looking around me.

”Not yet, but soon you'll be.”

”Why? Because of what I can do?” My voice does a terrible job hiding the fact that I am still not sure what it is exactly that I can do.

”Yes, that too. And because of who you are.”

”And who am I?” I ask, hungry for information. Any bit of explanation of what is going on will be great, at this point.

”That's a story for another day,” he says smiling at me, while rising to his feet. I now realize that the bus has stopped at Lejtoft main station.

”See you around,” he calls over his shoulder as they walk towards the doors.

When I finally get my legs to move again, I walk out of the bus. I look around me, but see no sign of them. I make my way to the next bus stand to check when the bus taking me home is coming. I groan when I realize that I have to wait for twenty minutes for the bus. I choose to walk home instead, as I will get there faster.

Maybe I should always bike directly to the station every morning, and leave my bike parked here to bike back home after school. Yes, that is what I will do from now on, I think to myself, preferring any train of thought that doesn't involve the strange beautiful creatures.

I turn up the volume of my phone, plug my earphones into my ears and nod my head in tune to the music on my playlist, as I enjoy the lovely summer evening.

I do not let myself think. I keep my thoughts at bay, choosing instead to sing along to my favourite songs under my breath. Overthinking and scaring myself will not help me now. Whatever those creatures are, and whatever they want from me, is all beyond me. They are stronger, I know it, and they will get whatever they want regardless of what I do or how much I worry about it. So why bother?

I almost walk into the trailer packed by the car in the driveway. It had not been there when I left for school this morning, or any time before that. It is overfilled with G.o.d-knows-what, with a large canvas draped over its contents and secured tightly to the trailer's sides. It can only mean one thing, dad has bought the ugly house, and is ready to start the renovation works. There are probably building materials and tools in there.

I am home just in time for dinner, and can barely stop myself from narrating about my day and the new friends I have met today, just to keep away the worrying thoughts of the supernatural brothers from my head. I of course leave out the details of my bus ride, and the curious brothers.

Dad's face is filled with an annoying I told you so look that I choose to ignore, as it is clear that I enjoyed my first day at my new school, despite my previous apprehensions.

”Archangel?”

”What went wrong?”

”I don't know.”

”If you hadn't screwed up, the brotherhood wouldn't be here, and we'd be back home already. What happened?”

”You know I can't answer that. I don't know what went wrong. What she does is up to her. All I do is leave incentives in her mind, and hope she follows them.”

”What are we going to do?”

Chapter 10.

I am beyond excited for my first Friday party. I have enjoyed my week immensely with my new friends, to my surprise. School is more bearable here, less bookwork and theory and more practical-oriented. We have a lot more group work and project work here than we did back home. Most of my cla.s.smates are very friendly, and condone my persistent English-speaking, to which my teachers frown upon immensely, probably because they hope for me to practice my borderline pa.s.sable Danish. English-speaking is my ident.i.ty though, and I intend to hold onto it for as long as I can.

My routine today is different than it has been all week, because dad has given me permission to stay up late at the school party, and take the last bus home. Every afternoon after school this week has been spent helping dad at our new house, apart from my first day at school. I've been taking the 2:30 bus from Snderbirk directly to R, right after the last cla.s.s ends at 2:20pm. I am a little disappointed at not having had time to bond with my new friends after school, but our house is priority right now. Dad has been driving to R every afternoon after work, together with my grandparents, and working on the house. I meet up with them there after school, and keep working to the early evening.

We began by stripping off the fallen in thatch for the first two days, and piling it in heaps besides the house, that had then been collected yesterday by a commissioned garbage truck. I thought it a waste, imagining what a large bonfire it would have made. Dad however pointed out that the fumes from old, wet and mildewed thatch may not be very healthy to take it.

Grandmother always made supper earlier in the day, packing it into large thermos pots, which we ate outside in the warm evening sun, seated on some camping furniture. I must admit that I enjoy the novelty of it all, and often try to imprint the image in my head, so that I could sketch it after. However, whenever we get home, a little after 10pm, I just promptly take a shower before pa.s.sing out on my bed with exhaustion.

I haven't had much contact with Ariel and Raphael, but I've felt their presence close by. Or at least I think I have. It is a feeling I hadn't noticed before until after meeting them. A kind of very light consistent buzzing, or humming at the back of my head. It is not annoying or disturbing. On the contrary, it is comforting, almost lulling. More so when I am in R, trying to fight the intoxicating air threatening to lull me to some form of bliss. I remember however what happened the last two times I gave in to that bliss. Two ghosts, shapeless blobs really, had transformed into very powerful looking warriors right before my eyes. The memory is still as terrifying.

I shake my head to warn off the foreboding feeling that creeps in each time I think about those two, and concentrate instead on staring at the clock. 2:10pm. Why is the clock so slow today? I think to myself.

A quick inspection around the cla.s.s confirms that I am not the only one looking forward to the end of the school day. Most people are staring at the clock, or outside, or at their desks, anywhere but at the Rambling Miss Jensen. Bente, I correct myself. I am still unused to the Danish custom of calling their teachers by their first names. They call everyone by first names here. It is absolutely confusing at first, but I embrace the notion it conveys. Hooray for equality and informality.

2:13pm. Oh come on!