The Fox on The Dragon's Tale
March 7th, 2018:
Jermain, Mellissa and I stood by Cecelia's grave at Montefiore Cemetery, I left six black roses, a bottle of Manishewitz, the album Faith by the Cure as well as Beethoven's Fifth. I read Too Soon by Mary Yarnall:
This was a life
That had hardly begun
No time to find your place in the sun
No time to do
All you could have done
But we loved you enough for a lifetime
No time to enjoy
The world and its wealth
Down of the shelf
No time to sing
The song of yourself
Though you had enough love for a lifetime
Those who live long
Endure sadness and tears
But you'll never suffer
The sorrowing years
No betrayal, no anger
No hatred, no fear
Just love, only love, in your lifetime
Cecelia Clark, or C.C. had been one of the best friends I have ever had, through her I had met Mellissa, my other Wyrd Sister and my Husband, Jermain. Her life had been snuffed from her too early by a mass shooting at Orpheus, a night club that we had frequented. It was a night club that catered to the goths, punks and artist of the city, a night club where no one blinked an eye to my appearance, until a man lost in his loneliness and fed on the echo chambers of hate in misery on the web decided to take her life and attempt to take my life with a hunting rifle. I ended his life and his misery, and I feel no regret for it, but I could no longer appear in the general public, for their knowledge of the blood I shed.
My leg still felt a twinge of pain when the rain fell two years later. I still felt pain and anger that my friend was so easily snuffed out of life within minutes, a friend that saw me for what I was, and what I could be.
C.C. introduced me to alternative culture and the music and movies and fashion, and I had reintroduced her to classical music, books, and literature.
She was abudding archeologist, and she was going to explore the Valley of the Kings in Egypt. She was also the person that discovered the origin of what I am and people that may have been like me , well me and my father. We were sisters, her and I, and now she lay six feet in cold darkness, her secrets and discoveries never to be discovered.
I pulled my black velvet cloak over my head to hide my features. I had a pointed face with high cheekbones and foxlike features, with a cleft lip and pointed canines. My eyes are a warm golden brown and I have a mane of thick red hair on my head. My hands had fine red fur and pointed claws that Mellissa often intricately painted for me.
Mellissa Chen was both a tattoo and traditional artist, she now lived on the Lower East Side, under a tattoo shop with her girlfriend, Alice Nguyen. She had been all but disowned by her family who disapproved of her lifestyle. She had lived with me and my world for a while, but moved in with Alice a year later.
Mellissa was tall and pale, with beautiful dark eyes. She often wore Victorian or Lolita style dresses. Her dark hair had been dyed with a purple tint and her lip was pierced, she was also now covered in tattoos as well. I had two on my wrist one read In memory of C.C. On the other wrist read Cryptid.
My husband, Jermain, was African American, with a slim build and soft boyish features. His once neon colored Mohawk had been replaced by long braids that we pulled back in a ponytail. Like me he wore black trousers and a black tee shirt of some sort, sometimes with a band logo, sometimes plain.
I hugged Mell goodbye and Jermain and I headed back towards his family's house. It was a modest house in Brooklyn. He knew how to stand in front of me just so to hide me from the cameras on the subway, he always put me toward the back of the cars and stood over me, is height towering over me.
We got off under Central Park and found our way toward the main enterance. There was a police officer standing sentry near the entrance.
"Good evening, officer," I said.
"Evening Mr. and Mrs. Rhodes," said the officer with a tip of his hat. "Ya know, Mrs. Rhodes…"
"Please call me Cordelia, or Cordy."
"A'right Cordy, it's going to be hard to keep your identity, and your district secret if you keep traipsing out at night without telling someone where you're going."
"I see you've spoken to my father again," I said.
"No, direct orders from City Council."
"Well, Councilmen Maxwell is retiring this year, after that then, or will we once again be left to fend for ourselves?"
"Cordy, I only take orders, and I was ordered to keep the overly curious from exploring this pipe, there's structural damage and bad drainage, wouldn't want anyone to get hurt," the officer said this with a wink.
Jermain nodded at the officer and we went inside to the main entrance, I opened an old brick panel to view a numerical keypad, I punched in the combination of numbers and heard a friendly chirp as a circular panel pulled away.
We walked down the halls for about three miles until we came to the spiral staircase that led to the underground. There are hundreds of miles worth of tunnels under New York City, most of them forgotten, some crumbled during earthquakes and the attacks. Under the tunnels there are caverns and mazes that run even deeper. We call it the world underneath, it is a secret place, well mostly secret, a few helpers in the city council are aware of us, but they protect us from harm, at least until the next election. At that point we'll either go on rebuilding or leave.
One of our helpers, Reverend Leena Greene, owns a plot of land in The Smoky Mountains of Tennessee, if we had to leave our home, due to flooding, disaster or simply being squeezed out from the ever-raising cost of living, we had a place to go. Jermain and I had our honeymoon there, in a small cabin in the middle of a forest, listening to the sounds the night animals made, unable to sleep from the eerie silence. It was a major change, granted, but not an unwelcome one.
Jermain and I made it to the main tunnel, I saw my mother carrying my nephew. He was nearly two now and had a tuft of dark hair and warm gray eyes. He smiled when he saw me and Jermain.
"How's my little buddy doing?" said Jermain.
My nephew, who had been named Vincent Alan Chandler II, babbled "uncie" excitedly and held his chubby arms out. Jermain held the child and proceeded to toss him around in a playful manner, until my brother came by to collect him.
My brother, Jacob, was tall and broad with piercing blue eyes and sandy hair that was cut high and tight. He had the high forehead and cheekbones but a soft smile. He worked as an EMT, and his wife Kittie worked as a Nurse for St. Vincent's hospital, they were both extremely busy and would drop him off at grandma and grampa's to be watched.
"He's really getting big," said Jermain.
"Children will do that," said Jacob.
"Good to see you," said my mother. Her hair was now a pale copper white with age and she had eyes the color of the sea. We had the same fair complexion and if I had been born "normal", I would have looked very much like her.
We gave her a hug.
"So, what have you two been up to?" she asked.
I gave a somber look. "It's the second year since the shooting, we all were up to pay our respects."
I could see a tear form in Jermain's eye and he turned away.
"It's always hard to lose a friend, sad," my mother looked skyward. "That's why I came down here in the end, there were just so many losses."
"That, and you fell in love with my father."
She smiled at me, "That too, I still love him, the moody old lion."
"Speaking of which, do you know where he is?" I asked.
"He's in our chambers, he's in one of his moods again, I'd leave him alone for a bit."
"I know his moods more than anyone," I said.
"Your moods are more predictable, they only come about once a month," said Jermain.
I stared daggers into him.
"With that I think I'll go," said Jermain.
I headed toward my parent's chambers. It was stone and had a window shaped like half a sun, when the tunnel lights were on it glowed a warm amber. In the corner there was a statue of Justice, and a computer. In the middle of the room was a table where my father sat and was writing in a large book.
My father's hair was long and white and pulled up halfway, his piercing blue eyes focused on his work. His face had leonine features, a cleft lip and sharp canines, as I had, though his face had higher cheekbones and was less pointed. Although he lost some of the height of his youth, he was still formidably tall and broad, features my brother Jacob had inherited. I myself was quite the opposite, barely taller than five feet, though I had a muscular build. His hands also had claws and were covered with grizzled gray hair, while though my hands had more hair than an average woman's, it was fine and almost silken in comparison.
"Father," I said.
He looked up at me, "Leave me, Cordelia, I wish to be alone with my own thoughts."
"I can feel your grief, Dad, I just wanted you to know you're not alone in this, that I'm here if you need me," I sighed.
"I feel your grief as well, and the senseless act that led to that grief, and then," his feline features crumpled, "I felt my own grief at the evil that took from me too, it's a sadness that I did not want either of my children to know."
I knew he was speaking of his first love, Catherine, she was the woman that proved he was human and Jacob's mother. She was murdered thirty years ago.
Tears welled up in my eyes, "Dad, does the pain ever go away?"
"It comes and goes, years will go by when you think everything is healed, and then a voice, a song, a smell will bring all the memories back and all the pain."
"We must remember, so that nothing fades into the abyss," I said. "Everything has a purpose, and I would not be here, as I am now, if the past did not happen."
"It's cause of you and Jacob that I have continued to endure," he heaved, "and your mother has been by my side all these years."
"Then let her comfort you father," I said. "With me you're only preaching to the choir, I am too much of your own reflection, let mom be by your side, don't shut her out, she can heal you better than any small mirror could."
He nodded, as I left to get my mother.
"I calmed him down enough, he fed off my grief and needs solace, perhaps I should shield myself better next time."
"I don't want you to block us out," said my mother.
"Not blocking you out, just not dragging you down with me, into my pain. One empath is enough to deal with."
My mom sighed and kissed my forehead. "Thank you, sometimes you're the only one that can get through to him."
"I have my purposes," I quipped. "I'm going to find solace myself." I took Jermain's hand and we went to our chamber. I found solace in him, his warmth and his kisses, we made love, and I fell into a deep sleep wrapped in his arms.
I awoke to the hot sun beating down on me, the sky was a brilliant azure. I saw cacti growing out of tan dusty earth. There were mountains in the background and distant mirages in the background. I pulled the hood of cloak, red now, over my head to block out the sun and shield my eyes.
I walked toward the mountains and saw a large building. I went into the large building and the acrid smell of death surrounded me. In the front lobby I saw an office chair and I carefully turned it around to face me. In the chair was a corps, it's throat slashed and the eyes were completely ripped from the sockets leaving two black pits.
I jumped back away from the chair and saw the walls were covered in a red ichor and I heard a roar. Furious energy leapt for me knocking me to the ground, two black soulless eyes looked at me in a background of white, I could feel it's rage, fear and confusion surround me, and I roared back in anguish.
"Cordelia!" I heard Jermain scream.
I opened my eyes and his arms were wrapped tightly around me, holding my hands closed. His arm was bleeding.
"I hurt you!"
"It's not deep, but you were thrashing around and howling, like you were having a night terror."
I was drenched in sweat and I looked around the room. I was back in my chamber with a modest bed and desk. My mechanical typewriter in the corner beside his microscope and textbooks. A dresser and a few band posters covering the wall.
"Love, I'm sorry," I said.
"I'll be fine, I just want to know if you're ok."
"I don't know, I had a nightmare, it was so vivid, rage, fear, bright light and heat, and so much death and blood."
He held me and rocked me.
"It felt like someone was trying to reach through me to.. to I don't know, just such rage. This happened to me a few years ago, but not to this extent."
"Your grandmother?" He asked.
I nodded. "My grandmother simply felt wild, as though she was running through the pines on a cold night and enjoying the hunt. I never felt rage this strong, and hot sun and dust, a desert?"
"This is New York City, there's not desert biomes here for thousands of miles."
"That doesn't mean that this person, this rage isn't in a desert and trying to break through."
"Shh, think of one thing here that you can see, one thing you can touch. Take a deep breath, in through your nose," Jermain breathed in deeply, "and out through your mouth."
I focused on my breath and could feel my heart rate slowing down, and I could see that this was our chamber and I could hear the distant clanging in the pipes and the trains and I felt safe again. I formed a shield around my thoughts, and the vision of hot sun was frozen out my thoughts of ice.