Chapter 4: Lark Rising
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If you want to see Edward's reaction to Leah's phone call, you'll have to read 'Little Angel of Forks', Chapter 22, which posted last week. I think you'll enjoy it, and as an added bonus, you'll get to see how the Cullens and the Pack live, 9 years after Edward and Bella's wedding.
Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended. Any resemblance to persons living or dead is merely coincidental. Opinions expressed are those of the characters, and may not reflect those of the author. Ivo belongs to me. And to Leah. Hands off or she'll tear you a new orifice. Grr.
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'The Lark in the Clear Air (from the Tempest), by Cara Dillon
'To Make You Feel My Love (Bob Dylan)', by Adele
Dear thoughts are my mind and my soul it soars enchanted,
As I hear the sweet lark sing in the clear air of the day,
For a tender beaming smile to my hope has been granted,
And tomorrow he shall hear all my fond heart longs to say.
I will tell him all my love , all my soul's pure adoration,
And I know he will hear my voice and he will not answer me nay,
It is this that gives my soul all it's joyous elation,
As I hear the sweet lark sing in the clear air of the day.
February 16th, 2014:
Toronto, Ontario
He uses his key to pass through the entrance into the lobby of a beautiful, modern building near Toronto Harbour. Pulling me by the hand, he takes me through the fireproof door just past the elevators. Oh, he must live on the first floor. Huh.
He stops at a door and knocks. There is a flurry and some scuffling inside, and the door bangs open rapidly before our faces. A young girl stands there, beaming up at Ivo. She is thin as a rail, and mousy blond, with braces on her teeth. And as soon as she notices me, her smile morphs into a perfect 'o'.
"Hello, Kobe," Ivo says softly, bowing politely. "Tell your father I am sorry for the lateness of the hour."
"I was up anyhow. Ivo! Who's your friend? You've never brought a friend home before!" she asks, squirming excitedly.
"This is my girlfriend, Leah," he announces happily.
"Wow. Gosh. You're... so pretty. I'm so glad you weren't alone for Valentine's Day."
We give each other a shifty look, which Kobe misses. "So how did you meet?" she wonders.
"On a train," I supply. This is apparently good romantic pulp. Kobe is delighted. And delightful. "I'm so glad. This guy needs somebody to take care of him, eh? Try and force him to buy some furniture, will you? He seriously lives like a monk. Even my father, who decorates this place like it's a frat house, does not approve. I mean, where do you sleep, Ivo? On the floor?"
Ivo chuckles a little, ducking his head. "On skins. It's my tradition. So how is she? Has she forgotten about me? Decided to move in with you?"
Huh?
"Perfect," Kobe says smugly. "I just checked on her an hour ago. Plenty of water, and I fed her her meat just like you told me. But I wouldn't worry about losing her heart to little old me. She just goes about her day like always. Seems to know you'll never leave her."
Huh? What?
"Thank you." Ivo hands the girl something. Oh. Money.
"Any time," she beams. "Nice to meet you, Leah."
"Nice to meet you too, Kobe," I smile.
She disappears and I hear the locks snick into place. Hopefully, she'll go to bed. There's school tomorrow.
Ivo takes my hand again and we walk back to the elevator. We get on, and he presses the top button. Oh, holy cow. He lives on the tippy top floor.
It's not just the tippy top floor, it's the penthouse. Holy cow. My Imprint has a penthouse.
The elevator opens, and the first thing I see is a wall of glass, showcasing a spectacular view of Toronto Harbour.
The second thing I see is flying, snarling fur.
Ivo holds the furry thing down, speaking to it firmly, but kindly. I pant, pressed up against the back wall of the elevator.
It couldn't have hurt me, really. It just startled me.
Ivo is looking up at me with concern. "I'm sorry, Leah. I did not think Kaya would react to you that way. I do not know what has gotten into her."
I look down, and realize that it's a dog. Not a wolf. Not a Husky, either. It's a Malamute.
Kaya is the biggest dog I've ever seen, if you don't count wolves and shape shifters. Ivo lets her up, and holds my hand within his, and moves it under her nose while he continues to hold onto her collar. The dog sniffs me all over, and apparently decides I'm not a threat to her master. She wags her tail, and snuffles into our chests. Ivo pulls a treat out of his pocket. Oh, that explains the snuffling.
"Holy crow, Ivo. Thanks for warning me."
"Sorry. It didn't occur to me. I ... don't socialize... much... at all. Ever." The dog is trying to stand on her back legs, trying to lick my boyfriend, uh... fiancé, uh... and she's wriggling all over with joy. He strokes her quietly, and makes her sit. She obeys, trembling all over.
"You are friends with Kobe, obviously," I say, thin-lipped.
He lifts one shoulder and drops it, continuing to pat his dog. "I advertised for a dog sitter. She answered. Her father did not object. So. She knows that I have a dog. She knows that I am an artist, and that I travel. That's about it. She is twelve. It would be inappropriate for me to socialize with her. She is more curious than I would like, but she is a nice child. I would not wish to hurt her feelings."
I am irrationally jealous and I feel churlish. But his twelve year old dog sitter knows more about how he lives than I do.
Well, that's just silly. I know more about his personal life, and I'm about to find out for myself how he lives. Besides, I'm his mate. She's just a little kid.
Ivo takes my hand and drags me off the elevator, into his living room. If you can call it that. Kobe is right. He has very little furniture. No human charade here, unlike the Cullens, although if he lives in this place, it's not a question of money.
'There's no furniture."
Ivo shrugs. "I don't need it. As you know, I do not sleep. I do not tire. Sometimes, I like to sit and watch the harbour, so there's the one chair."
"Well, I do sleep. And eat. And get tired," I hint. The dog is sitting on my foot. I can't shift her. "How much does Kahyah weigh?" I wonder.
"She's large for a Malamute, isn't she? Oh! Silly Kaya. Get off Leah's foot." He goes back to talking to me. "Although there are many larger ones. She stands 36" high, and weighs 130 pounds. Some Malamutes weigh 140 pounds or more."
"She's beautiful, Ivo. I'm glad you have her."
He chuckles. "More like she has me." Ivo stops in the middle of the room, looking at me expectantly with his arms crossed. I guess he wants my opinion.
The only furniture consists of a medium-sized wooden desk -conspicuously laptop free- and a file cabinet in the south-east corner by the window, a boxy black armchair with a matching ottoman, placed near the middle of the window, a barstool-type kitchen counter -without stools- in the south-west corner, and a work table buried in hand tools that sits in the north-west corner.
"You don't have a belt sander?" I wonder.
"Unnecessary. I can do it just as well by hand. I try not to disturb my neighbours. I do have a wet-saw, though. Breaking the stone by hand can lead to inaccuracies."
There's a plain white door next to the desk. I assume that's the bedroom. There are no other doors. Not even a closet for outerwear.
It's a good thing the floor is hardwood, because everywhere else, there are sculptures. Some are finished and sitting on display. Some are beneath glass, others on pedestals. Other works have barely been started. There are many blocks of stone -marble, granite and soapstone- plus whale bones and pieces of jade, just stacked up, around the space.
Considering how many pieces there are in the room, and that it is a workshop, it is remarkably tidy. No dust or anything. Of course, for all I know, he has a cleaning lady.
I look about, fascinated, while Ivo watches me. The dog follows us around, and Ivo scratches her fluffy ears every once in a while. She watches him adoringly with her black-rimmed ice blue eyes.
I reach down and scratch the dog's head, and she leans against my leg. She's amazingly heavy. "This is amazing, Ivo. You are incredibly talented."
"Thank you, Leah."
"Is it your talent, then? Sculpting?"
"No. It is just a skill I have honed."
"You have more talent in your little finger than I have in my whole body," I say, a little sadly. He writes, he sculpts, he paints, what next?
He tips up my chin. "You have a talent that no-one else possesses," he declares.
"And what might that be?" I wonder.
"You make me smile," he says, and does.
I feel warm all the way through. I am blushing again.
"I would very much enjoy telling you the stories of the pieces," he suggests.
"I'd like that." There is a huge piece of white alabaster on prominent display. It must be a yard high, and a couple of feet in diameter, at least. It is of a man, using a spear to fight a polar bear. "May I touch it?" I ask tentatively. "I know that the oils of the skin can erode stone."
"Would you mind washing your hands first?" he asks me, eyes shining. "I like to touch them, too. It is the joy of working with such smooth materials. But you are right, the oils in your skin are not good for the stone. And that's an important piece. Very old."
"Perhaps I shouldn't touch it," I muse. Of course, it calls to me to do so, all the louder. I bite my lips, fingers twitching.
"Leah," Ivo sighs, sounding exasperated and affectionate at the same time.
I peek up at him and he is regarding me wryly. There is a blur, and he's no longer beside me. He's in the kitchen, pulling something out of a high cupboard. The lines of him blur again, and he is back at my side. I giggle. It is baby powder. He tips some into my hands, and it floats up in a cloud. It's on me, and its on his black clothes, but he doesn't mind it. He takes our hands, and rubs them together, thoroughly coating my palms and fingers with it. It feels nice. Then, he puts his hands over the backs of mine, and draws them up to the alabaster.
I touch its wonderful smoothness, marveling. His cold hands guide me. Our hands run over its curves together, as a man's might pass over his lover. I touch every inch of the sculpture: the man's parka. His mukluk boots. The snow. The bear. His face.
"Is it you?" I ask, mesmerized.
"No. I would not kill a polar bear. It would not be right. I was angry with the man. It is just something I saw, once, that I could not forget. Being unwise, the man decided to kill the bear when it attacked him. That was a mistake."
"Decided?" I protested. "Should he have allowed the bear to kill him?"
"Ah, Leah. Anyone who listens to the elders knows that it is not necessary to kill an attacking polar bear," Ivo explained.
"It isn't?" I wondered.
"No. Even a human can stop one, just by punching it in the nose," Ivo laughs, speaking against my cheek. He makes me feel all fluttery.
"Have you... ever punched one?" I blink.
"No. But people say it feels like sinking your fist into raw hamburger. I think I can live without experiencing that," Ivo smiles against my cheek.
The spear is a different material. "This is ivory," Ivo whispers in my ear. He wraps my fingers around it, and draws them downward. It almost feels like plastic, but it's a natural substance. How interesting.
"Ivory," I murmur. "But it's illegal to use ivory now," I say, turning to him for an explanation.
"It was not illegal to use it two hundred years ago, my sweet," Ivo informs me.
"Two-? I'm touching a work of art that's two hundred years old?" I gasp.
"As I said, it is precious. Both for its age, and my inability to duplicate it, but also because it is symbolic to me."
"Oh. What does it mean?" I ask, expecting to hear something profound.
"It means, 'if you stab a thousand-pound polar bear in the throat with a spear, you had better get out of the way before it falls on you'."
I gape at him.
"Common sense," he shrugs.
"You're telling me this guy died, aren't you?"
"Absolutely. Hundred and twenty pound man versus thousand pound bear, out in the middle of nowhere, with nobody to help him. He takes on a big huge bear and kills it, but then, he doesn't manage to get out of the way. It falls on him: Bump! Squishy. Not much left of him, I fear. It was a shame. By the time I found them, only the bearskin was usable."
"Oh, Ivo!" I laugh incredulously.
"Common sense, Beautiful Leah. When a bear might fall on you, if you don't want to be crushed, you'd better stand out of the way."
"Sort of like imprinting," I muse. He finds that delightful.
"Yes," he chuckles, taking our hands off the alabaster and kissing the backs of my fingers. He grins at me. "And there's something else about it that's like our mate bond."
"Really?" I ask. Swoon.
"Sure. If the bear falls on you so hard you can't budge, at least it's warm and snuggly," he jokes.
"Ivo!" I gasp.
"Well, it is. And I have the skin, if you want me to prove it," he says smugly.
"You... tanned the hide?" I gawped.
"Of course. Wasting it would have been bad."
"Oh, boy. I hope the police never find out you have these objects," I shudder.
"They're registered antiquities, Leah. I sometimes loan them to museums," Ivo grins mischievously. "It's great fun listening to curators wax on about how brilliant my ancestor was, and how I must hope to ascribe to a portion of his knowledge and talent."
"Do you have any works in museums right now?" I ask excitedly.
"Yes. In fact, I've got a big one on loan to the ROM. That's a self-portrait: Man Tanning Seal Hides'," he tells me proudly.
"Oh, Ivo! I... I've seen it before. Can we go? I want to look at it. I want to see you in it."
"Sure. But I think we need to look after some other things first. And I'm not ready to leave Kaya just yet. Okay?"
"Of course."
"Come and sit in the chair, and we shall love up my meggusuk. My shaggy dog." He pronounces it 'mik-kuh-soo(k)'. Thank heaven the dog's name is easier to pronounce.
Ivo pulls me over to the chair and he sits in it, putting up his feet. I crawl up beside him, and manage to squash myself in. The dog, summoned by a smack on Ivo's leg, jumps up and lies down on his legs, setting her head on his chest with a contented sigh. "This chair is going to break," I moan. Kaya is like an extremely heavy, hot, white-fawn-grey-black blanket. Mostly white. "What does 'Kaya', mean, Ivo?" I ask, ruffling the dog's hair.
"It means, 'Stay and Don't Go'," he tells me. "I found her out in the snow last year. She was a lost puppy. I took her to my tent to warm her up, and she wouldn't leave. But I think I ought to have named her Pakak."
"Why? What does Paw(k)aw(k) mean?" I smile.
"One That Gets Into Everything."
We laugh together, snuggling under the dog. "That's a very, very good dog name," I tell him. "but you'd better leave it as it is, now. She might not answer to something different."
"Oh, I don't know. The People like new names, as I told you."
"She's a dog, Ivo," I insist. "They aren't like people."
"Oh, yes. They are just like people. And they are precious members of the family. They hunt for people. They transport people. And they keep people warm. They love us. In much of the North, people treat their dogs just like they treat their children. They enhance the quality of life greatly."
"Oh. I see," I muse. And I do.
Letting my head fall back against Ivo's shoulder, I look out at the dark sky. Before long, it will be light. My eyes drift around the large room. The walls are white and plain. But they are not stark, because the art adds warmth, life, and fluidity.
The wall opposite the window has a mural-sized canvas on it. A Modern. It is the night sky, over Nunavut, with the Northern Lights. His name is scratched into the lower left corner. White on indigo.
The chair in which we are sitting is very modern: black and boxy, made of fabric. It's very comfortable, sitting with him.
The shorter walls also have interesting things on them. One displays some ceremonial drums made of animal hides. They have black tribal figures painted on them. Another wall sports a sealed glass frame. Inside it? A woman's whalebone corset, yellowed with age, it's pale blue ribbons badly faded.
"So ... many of the vampires I know are ... talented," I volunteer.
"You wish to experience my talent?" he wonders.
"Uh... that ... depends," I blink uncertainly.
"Lie your head on my shoulder, and close your eyes," he says softly.
"Uh, okay." I rest against him.
He starts singing, softly, almost under his breath. It is Inuktituk, I think. Full of stops and clicks. And in my mind, colours swirl and coalesce. A man stands before a furious bear, that rears on its hind legs, threatening him. It roars fearsomely. The man hauls back a mittened fist and smacks the bear in the nose. It turns, bawling, and runs away as fast as its large paws can carry it.
"You are showing me your story," I say, marvelling. He nods.
"You fascinate me, Ivo," I declare, looking at the small details that are important to him.
"I hope so," he says softly, wrapping a section of my hair around his finger. "I hope so, Leah."
We are so close. I breathe him in, tipping my head a little. Leaning in. Closer.
Oh, my. He's going to kiss me. He really is. He's going-
He tips my head up, cradling my chin in his hand, and kisses me. I decide that I have a new favourite pastime.
I finally understand what Bella has been saying for years. And Jacob. How we sentient creatures are alike is more important than how we are different. Bella always calls the male vampires 'men', which disconcerts the new ones we meet, but she's right. He's a man. He's ... oh, my. He definitely is.
He pulls back, reining in his desire. He is maddeningly in control. "Sorry," he tells me.
"Well I'm not," I say, pulling him down again. He chuckles, grinning against my face.
"Leah," he groans, and not in the right way. "This is not appropriate."
"Ivo," I protest, annoyed. "It's totally appropriate."
"Your kinsmen would not approve," he informs me.
I open my mouth to argue, and realize he's totally right. My kinsmen are walking poster boys for outdated thinking. Even Seth has absorbed a Cullen-esque concept of dating. "My kinsmen aren't here," I tell Ivo, pulling at him again. He captures my wrists. He's totally amused. Damn-it.
"Your kinsmen are not here," he agrees, "which is all the more reason why I should act honourably."
"But-"
"Leah. For your protection."
"I can protect myself, thanks," I growl, pulling him down again.
"No. Not yet."
"Ivo," I whine. He silences me with butterfly kisses. Oh, well. As long as he's going to kiss me. I mean, I can talk him into it later. I'm sure I can.
"We hardly know each other," he says silkily. "Let us ... slow down."
Kaya interrupts by licking my face, and his, pretty much simultaneously. We both squeal, pushing her back. Some doggy is jealous.
"Naughty dog," he scolds her mildly. "You missed me, poor Kaya. Well, I shan't be leaving you alone any more." He ruffles the fur of her neck.
"Why not?" I wonder.
"Wherever we go, I will bring her, too. If you do not mind, that is."
"Oh. Of course not. She's lovely, Ivo. I'll be glad to have her around."
"You are going to be great friends. She will be with you, for me, whenever I am out hawking my wares. There will be no need for you, or Kaya, to be lonely anymore."
I have just done the poor kid downstairs out of a job. Oh, well. Her family must be well off, if they live here. She'll just have to dog sit for somebody else.
"That sounds ... really nice," I admit. I have always wanted a dog.
"Mmm," he agrees, honing in on my mouth. He kisses me again, and it's like I'm on fire. It has been so long. My hand is wandering of its own accord. Again, he captures my wrist, snickering. "If you don't mind your manners, I shall be calling you 'naughty' as well," he warns me.
"Call me 'naughty', call me 'forward', call me anything you want," I tell him, reaching for his top collar button.
Again, I am prevented. "I think I had better call you out on your behaviour," he teases me.
I blush a furious, boiling red. He tries, and fails, to tip up my chin.
"Hey..." he drawls. "No, no. I did not mean to embarrass you, my sweet. It has just ... been a very, very long time since I..."
"I pushed you, Ivo. I'm sorry," I murmur, beet red.
"Tell me about him," Ivo demands. There is steel under the velvet. I glance at him, panicked, but he pulls me down into his arms and strokes my hair. "Tell me about the fool who used and left you." He soothes my stiff form until I begin to relax. To feel safe.
"How do you know he used me and left me?" I ask narrowly.
"Beautiful Leah, I cannot see you as the kind of girl who plays with men. So there was indubitably someone about whom you were serious. Someone you loved enough, to allow him to touch you. And now you are alone. So, correct me if I am wrong. He used you, and he left."
I blink. "He couldn't help leaving me. We were going to get engaged. I was certain that he loved me. He was the first of our tribe to shift his shape into a wolf, and he was terrified. He didn't talk to me for weeks. Then, we worked it out and we continued to see each other for some time. But then, he met my cousin Emily, and imprinted on her. Life has been a mess ever since."
Ivo is silent for a few minutes. "So, he slept with you, but he made no plan to get married?"
The need to be honest claws at me, even though I'd like to paint Sam as a cad. "Well ... I was half of that couple, you know. I ... gave myself to him, without having his ... promise." I am afraid to look at my mate. Does he think less of me?
"And that is why I want us to marry first. I know I have loved someone before. But I cannot remember her at all. It is rather sad. So, I will not take you casually, Leah."
I still can't meet his eyes. Sam and I were pretty young, and neither of us knew what we were doing, and he wasn't exactly Mr Romance, but it wasn't casual, either. "He didn't use me, Ivo. I have to be fair, there. He was always good to me, before he..."
"Changed. Alright. I will not put him down if you... loved him," Ivo says, a little glumly.
He's upset. Yes. He would have had an easier time if I had made Sam out to be a villain. I put my hand on his face and make him look at me. "Ivo? I was young. I thought I loved Sam. But since he left, there have been times when I have truly hated him. Hated the things he thought about, and how he goes on about the majesty and nobility of imprinting. I hate how he compares me, in his mind, to Emily. I hate how bossy he can be, and how for a while I had to follow his orders. But I am glad I didn't imprint on him."
"What do you mean, 'in his mind'?" he frowns anxiously.
"Kwali from the same pack can hear and see each others' thoughts. Thankfully, I'm in Jacob's pack now, so I don't have to share thoughts with Sam anymore."
Ivo regards me with undisguised relief. "I'm glad. So glad, Leah. It may not be nice to say that I am not sorry he did not love you. But I'm not sorry. I never shall be, for his loss is my gain. And I shall never ever take you for granted, my sweet."
"He was never one tenth as important to me, as you already are. I don't love him, Ivo. I love you."
"Are you certain, Leah?" he asks quietly.
"I love you, Ivo. I want to belong to you. In every way."
"Then that is how it will be," he says simply.
We sit, silently, and watch the winter sun rise, and my heart sings in time with his stories.