"The authorities believe last night's assailant may also be related to the missing campers and park ranger who have yet to be found, as well as 25-year-old Jessica Cohen, reported missing this morning…"
"It's awful," the mother said, sights fixed to the small television on the kitchen counter as she sat beside me. "All those animal attacks, and now this."
"Animal attacks?" I forced another bite of the toasted waffle into my mouth, tasting its molecules as I chewed. I would have foregone breakfast, but the mother had begun to grow concerned as the meals she made went untouched.
Cup of coffee in hand, she nodded to me. "You remember what happened to Coach Tanner last year, don't you sweetheart?"
Sophia's memories supplied the night when the football coach and history teacher turned up dead in the school parking lot during a pep rally. Tanner's death had sent shockwaves through the school. Sophia had felt guilty for not liking him. "Yes."
"All those campers and that group of seniors." She sighed as she set down her coffee. "And now some crazed killer is loose. It's enough to—" the ring of her cell phone cut off the rest of her words. Her expression lifted as she said, "Carol! Hi!"
I turned back to the television and the news report as the mother conversed with Carol Lockwood.
Human life was so turbulent. I had only recently experienced a few years of fighting amongst the angels. Humans faced a myriad of conflicts all the time. I was only beginning to understand the fortitude it took to withstand so much uncertainty, some of it dangerous.
A picture of Jessica Cohen flashed on screen as the anchors spoke of her demise out on the main road entering Mystic Falls. With the gates of heaven shut, I wondered what had become of the recently departed souls. Had the reapers managed to find passage? It seemed death always found a way no matter the obstacle facing it.
"Sophie, honey," the mother said as she hung up the phone and turned her attention back to me. "The Mayor asked for my help with a Memorial their holding in the town square." The mother sounded pleased with this news. "So stop by when you're done with school."
"I have a try-out this afternoon," I replied dutifully.
The mother blinked. "You do? For what?"
"Cheerleading."
"Oh, Sophie, that's wonderful!" The excitement lightened her voice and her eyes as she smiled at me. "Why didn't you say anything sooner?" A crease appeared between her brows as they fell together. "Have you had a chance to learn the routines?"
"I watched a film," I said as I used the fork to cut into the waffle. "Bring It On. It was very instructive."
The crease in the mother's brow deepened. "Sophie—" she said hesitantly, in a way that had come to signal the fact she recognized something was not right with her daughter. "I don't think Caroline will be taking her routines from a movie."
I watched her as I quietly chewed.
The mother observed me just as silently for several more moments before she forced a lighter expression. "You'll do great."
⊱ ────── {.⋅ The Long Way Down ⋅.} ───── ⊰
I knew all the complexities of time and space, and yet, were I asked, I wouldn't be able to explain why the hours suddenly grew longer whenever I had a class to sit through. But lengthen they did. Into tiny eternities I wished vehemently to escape.
The one exception to this rule was English. Here we read from a book, The Great Gatsby, and discussed various interpretations of the passages. I had never paid much attention to human literature. Such was my brother Metatron's province. As Metatron had all the hubris of an archangel and none of the charm, I'd tended to avoid him—and consequently, humanity's writings.
But here was a class that was fascinating to listen to. As a virtue of music, I did not have the same innate knowledge of the intent behind Fitzgerald's words as I would have a composer of lyrics. Since Metatron had relegated himself to earth some centuries back, I supposed he was likely alive somewhere and could have told me anything I wished to know about the author's thoughts as he wrote his novel. But as that would require speaking to Metatron, I contented myself to listening to the humans around me as they drew their own conclusions.
After my final class ended, I returned to the gymnasium I had visited earlier in the week. Caroline and another girl with dark hair and a willowy figure named Kaitlyn waited for me at the far end of the bleachers.
My sneakers squeaked as I crossed the court's polished wooden floor. The sound drew the attention of the other girls. "Hi," Caroline greeted as I approached. A small speaker sat on the bench beside them.
"Hello."
"Did you bring your poms?" Kaitlyn asked as she pulled out an mp3 player.
I was certain the poms were still in Sophia's closet. "No."
"That's alright," Caroline said. "Just act as if you've got them."
I nodded.
"Why don't you go through one of last year's early routines," Caroline suggested with a smile.
I searched through the organic memories until I came upon a cheer routine Sophia had spent hours working on. I backed up a few feet to give myself enough room that I could kick without injuring either of the other girls and waited.
Soon, a three-year-old pop song echoed through the cavernous room. I allowed Sophia's memory to take control of her body. Uncertain as to the point, I clapped and kicked, jumped and waved my arms along to the beat of the song.
"Hold on," Caroline said, and Kaitlyn paused the music as I let my arms fall while the rest of the vessel settled back into a normal motionless stand. Caroline's eyes were narrowed in thought as she studied me. "Your moves are flawless, Sophia, but your expression is kind of—"
"Dead," Kaitlyn chimed in.
Caroline nodded before adding, "You need to smile more. It's a cheer! It's supposed to get the crowd pumped up!"
I peered between them, confused, before pulling the corners of the vessel's mouth up.
Caroline winced as Kaitlyn grimaced. "Okay. A little less serial killer, please," Caroline advised.
I wasn't certain what she meant. Serial killers had all sorts of affects. Nevertheless, I let my vessel's face rest. "You don't want me to smile?"
"Not like that," Kaitlyn replied, frowning.
"Like this," Caroline said before beaming at me with a large, toothy grin. It disappeared the next instant.
I attempted to mimic her.
Both girls continued to look uncomfortable. "It's like, uncanny valley," Kaitlyn murmured.
Caroline fixed her face into another fake grin. "Why don't you do another routine from last year?"
Lips still stretched wide enough to show off the vessel's back teeth, I nodded and summoned another memory.
"Don't forget to cheer!" Caroline encouraged.
The girls had me run through two more routines before they announced I was finished.
"We'll let you know," Kaitlyn said, standing up and sharing a look with Caroline.
Caroline managed a thin smile before picking up the speaker as Kaitlyn strode for the double doors. "Any plans for the day?"
"The moth—mom is helping Mayor Lockwood with a memorial ceremony. I'm supposed to meet her there."
Caroline's answering grin was the first genuine one I'd seen from her since I'd stepped into the gymnasium. "I'm going too." She paused as she drew even to my side to add, "Maybe I'll see you at the Grill later," before lifting her hand and wriggling her fingers.
I mirrored her hand's movements, but she was already rushing for the door, brows drawn tight together once more.
⊱ ────── {.⋅ The Long Way Down ⋅.} ───── ⊰
The town's square was a small patch of greenery surrounded by streets and brick buildings. At its center were several chairs arrayed into rows that faced a small stage. Pictures as large as posters had been poised on stands that stood to either side, allowing the victims of the past week to smile down at the assemblage. The humans milled around, speaking with one another.
The mother found me soon after I reached the rows of white seats. "How did try-outs go?"
"They didn't like my smile," I recounted.
The mother blinked several times, as if trying to process my words. "But you have a lovely smile, Sophia."
"Apparently not," I replied, unconcerned.
"I'm sure you did better than you think." Sympathy shone from her gaze as she added, "You were very sick for a long time, honey. No one expects you to be at a hundred percent already." Her own smile returned as she said, "Why don't you go find your friends at the Grill?"
At her encouragement, I turned and began striding off in the direction of the town's most frequented restaurant right across the grounds. I was about to pass a small grouping of trees, just a few feet short of the sidewalk, when a familiar figure in a dark blue suit caught my eye.
Without thought I changed directions. Rounding a tall maple, I found the mystery that paraded as a man shrouded by death. Leaning against the maple's trunk, his eyes widened at my appearance before him, a reaction I'd come to recognize as surprise. "Hello, Elijah."
"Sophia." Straightening to a stand, he slipped his hands into his pockets and took a step closer.
My head tilted to the side as I observed, "You're not here for the memorial."
"No?" His regard remained steady while his lips lifted into that slight smile I remembered from the party. "Why do you assume that?"
"Because you're observing the humans, not walking among them."
"The humans," he parroted. I said nothing as he studied my vessel's face. Eventually, the corners of his lips lifted higher. "In truth, I overheard Carol invite your mother and hoped to see you again."
I nodded, accepting his account.
He looked further into the distance, mind contemplative, before returning his sights to me. "The notion doesn't seem to bother you."
"Should it?"
That slight smile curled a little higher. "Not if you want to be followed."
Want. The meaning behind such a simple word evoked an intense feeling of distress. I frowned and turned my face away from his scrutiny. "I don't want anything."
"Really?" he murmured. "You seemed to want to hear the piece I played the other week."
My head swung back towards Elijah. "I…" I sought some explanation, but there was only quiet as nothing came to mind.
His eyelashes lowered as he studied my features. My vessel's stomach suddenly clenched beneath the weight of his regard. "There's something about you." He took another step, bringing him close enough to touch. His stare questing, searching the vessel's face. "Something I've never seen before."
He hadn't seen. Not truly. The idea of it prompted another strange mixture of human feelings. A kind of sadness born of missed opportunities. But alongside the disappointment was… happiness? No, that wasn't quite right. Not pleasure. A flash of gratitude as I reflected on the sad state of my grace and shredded wings. It took another moment to flit through the vessel's mortal memories to find the right label for the feeling. Relief.
Relief that he wouldn't see what had become of my true form? Relief for him? Would my celestial light burn through him as it would a human? Difficult to say—but while his safety was important, it was the notion of what he'd make of my broken wings. Piteous things they'd become.
This relief… was it born of shame?
But to feel shame, there had to be…
I recoiled so thoroughly from such revelations, even the vessel took a lurching step to the side. How could I have become so… prideful? Or had I always been so?
"Prideful?" he wondered, echoing my thoughts.
Had I voiced them? My irritation at such a careless slip was difficult to dismiss. Especially given the discomforting realization that I'd grown so complacent commanding this body it was… taking initiative. Clearly, I had to remain more cognizant of the commands I passed it. Lest familiarity breed more reckless mistakes.
But a glance beyond the vessel's limited human gaze measured more of Elijah's reaction. He wanted some explanation. Knowing that he needed something of me, something I could easily give, evoked more sensations. Anticipation and pleasure, mixed with a frustration that I could not give him what he sought. Not fully. Above the confusing blend rose a strong and poignant fear of disappointing him. "It's a sin."
"Hmm. I suppose it is." Still sensing his thoughts, I learned he was interested in the answer though he did not understand the meaning behind it. "I would argue there are far worse."
Thinking of him, the one once considered the best of us, and of all the pain and evil he'd wrought, my lips turned downward. "It's the one that leads to all others."
"True." Elijah's eyes were still intense as they tracked my every movement. "Do you worry about sinning, Sophia?"
The idea that I had reached a point where I had to consider it had my vessel flinching. "I do now."
"Since your recovery." I said nothing as he jumped to conclusions. "I can see how such an experience would lead to a renewed sense of spirituality."
"Yes," I agreed. Humans often became more religious after surviving an encounter with death. I had witnessed many such occasions, listened to such thoughts when they would express their newfound concerns or gratitude through song.
"A miracle," he mused. We stood before one another. Unlike the humans, Elijah did not seem bothered by my silence or my stare. After a time, he smiled at me. "Perhaps I could play for you again."
The notion of listening to his masterful command of the piano made my vessel smile. "I would like that." As one corner of his mouth lifted higher in response, I asked, "Do you have any original pieces, Elijah?"
His smirk grew. "A few." He tilted his head and long bangs fell over his eyes. "Would you like to hear one?"
Having the chance to submerge myself in his soul made me breathe an immediate, "Yes."
His smirk grew into a grin. "Very well. This Saturday evening?"
I nodded.
"I'll pick you up at six," he informed me.
He knew of the little blue house. Of course he did. My vessel was compelled to smile again as I nodded my agreement.
His eyes met the vessel's, his stare searching. He sought some measure of my being through my vessel's light brown eyes. A war waged within his gaze. A struggle against the powerful urge to compel my secrets from me. After a moment, he decided if he could not learn them at the end of our evening on Saturday, he would impose his will on mine.
I wondered at how certain he was this would work, and how he had gained such a power. And where I had heard of such an ability before.
He tilted his head once more, causing his bangs to sweep down the side of his face, before turning and striding away.
⊱ ────── {.⋅ The Long Way Down ⋅.} ───── ⊰
Per the mother's instructions, I had taken a seat inside The Mystic Grill and, with a full glass of water sitting beside my hand, watched the humans around me. Within the restaurant's wooden walls, amid tables and booths and a long bar, they spoke with an ease that suggested comfort and familiarity. Smiles were frequent and the conversation flowed seamlessly. Intrigued, I watched and listened.
Though sometimes my thoughts drifted to deep brown eyes that warmed in the sun's light, and the promise of music. His music. I wondered what I would learn when Elijah's fingers revealed his soul to me.
Lost in such musings, I almost missed the intense flash of fear that accompanied a pain-strangled voice as it sent out a desperate prayer. Oh, please. Please someone help me! Please God! Get me out of here!
My vessel's spine stiffened as I recognized the voice as Caroline's. My sights swept across the room and its myriad of humans, but I already knew I wouldn't find her among them. No. She was far removed from the warmth and safety of the Mystic Grill.
Why is he doing this?! The young human pleaded of Father as an eruption of agony prompted another desperate cry.
I hurried between the crowd of bodies and tables and back outside into a warm Virginia evening. I sprinted down the sidewalk, ignoring the curious looks of those I passed by as I forced the vessel to run as fast as it could for its vehicle. My wings shivered uselessly around me and for the first time in ages, I felt a red-hot flash of anger at their uselessness.
Reaching Sophia's seven-year-old red Toyota Corolla, I yanked the door open and dropped inside, snatching the keys from my pocket as I hurried to turn over the small car's ignition. Once the engine was running, I sped out from the side-street parking spot and into main traffic, nearly hitting a trunk whose horn blared angrily at me. I ignored it and pressed the gas pedal to the floor.
I had just reached the edge of town when Caroline's pleas became wordless cries. Cries I followed out into the woods where the latest spate of killings had taken place.
The Corolla bounced along the gravel road I turned upon. Fifteen minutes after her initial prayer to Father, I sensed her soul nearby as I drove up to what humans called a recreational vehicle parked in front of a truck inside a small clearing.
A woman with light brown curls dressed in a leather jacket and jeans exited the RV as I shifted the car into park and flung myself from the door. She was not alone. Another soul was with Caroline within the RV. A dozen more awaited, spread throughout the trees.
The woman regarded me with a furrowed brow as she asked, "Who are you?"
It was the first time since the Fall that someone had asked instead of assumed. And for the first time I answered, "Charmeine."
The woman folded her arms and shifted her weight onto her right leg. "Haven't heard of you."
This revelation did not surprise me. Regardless, I demanded, "Release Caroline Forbes."
Her eyes narrowed. "You're with the vampires?"
Vampires. The risen dead compelled to drink the blood of the living to remain animated. Elijah and his strange aura came to the forefront of my mind. I pushed the realization away. It was irrelevant. "I've come for Caroline. Release her."
The woman laughed. It was a joyless, unkind sound. "I'll tell you what I told Stefan Salvatore. Bring Tyler to me or Caroline dies."
"No. She will not." I moved to the RV.
The woman moved into my way and grabbed my arm as I made to pass her. "Or maybe they'll be two in the cage."
I looked down at the hand that held my arm before looking up into her eyes. "Or not," I said, gripping her hand and prying the fingers loose.
Uncertainty flashed within her eyes before they steeled with determination—and something darker. Wilder. Her other hand reached for me.
I shoved a hand into her shoulder and watched flatly as she flew backward several feet into the side of the RV, putting a large dent into the metal.
When she looked up, her eyes were fierce with anger, her thoughts filled with violent intent. She launched herself off the ground and rushed towards me.
Several other souls approached, and the one inside the RV moved to the door. I caught a glimpse of it opening as the woman punched my vessels face. She let out a cry and cradled her now broken hand to her stomach as she doubled protectively over her injury and stared up at me, still angry, but also confused.
A large man rushed up from behind my back and attempted to grab the vessel's upper arm with the intent to pull me back and away from the woman. I refused to move and shrugged out of his hold, striding towards the now open door and the younger human male clad in denim with cold eyes standing inside it. The man behind me leapt forward and wrapped an arm around my neck.
I slid my gaze down to the muscular forearm squeezing hard enough to obstruct the windpipe and deny the vessel air. I frowned and gripped the arm. The man behind me grunted as I forced it away from my throat. I turned and, meeting startled blue eyes, pressed two fingers to his forehead and quieted his mind until his brainwaves shifted into a state of deep sleep. He slumped and fell to the ground.
"Lyle!" the man in the doorway shouted before hurrying down the steps.
I turned in time to find a gun barrel pointed at my vessel's chest. The man who'd been with Caroline fired. The gun popped once, twice, three times. Several bullets hit the vessel and burrowed deep inside its flesh, ripping through tissue and smashing through bone. One tore through a lung.
I healed the damage, tore apart the bullets at a molecular level, and then reassembled the torn stitching of the vessels clothing before tilting my head at the armed man.
"Vampire," he rumbled hatefully, dropping the gun in favor of pulling a plastic toy pistol from his pocket. This time it squeaked as he pulled the trigger, and a stream of water headed for my vessel's face.
I let my grace evaporate the vervain-tinted water into nothingness as I moved stoically ahead, though I did cock the Vessel's eyebrow. Astonishment painted the faces of the man and the woman as they stared at me with the first stirrings of fear.
I stepped around the man and up the steps of the RV as the woman told the other men hurrying towards us to stop. The steps creaked beneath my feet before I found myself in a narrow room. Half of the space was taken up by a seat and a table to one side. To the other, a cage.
Caroline, hair in disarray and dried blood crusted against her skin, stared up from behind the steel bars with red-rimmed eyes. Eyes that squinted in confusion as she asked, "Sophia?"
I reached down to the lock and broke it off, prompting a wide-eyed stare from the blonde teenager trapped within. "Come."
She sucked in a breath, pupils blowing wide, before crawling out the now open door and rising unsteadily to her feet. "How are you even here right now?" Caroline asked before wiping tears and blood from her eyes.
"I heard your prayers," I answered, turning back to the still open door before she could ask any more of the questions swimming within her shocked eyes.
"You heard my—" We both came to a sudden stop outside the RV.
The men who had rushed at me from the woods now laid on the ground, unconscious. Stefan Salvatore, Tyler Lockwood, and a dark-haired man in a leather jacket I'd never seen before stood several feet beyond, gazing around them at the fallen men with similarly astonished expressions. Walking out from between the trees, hands extended, was a man with dark skin whose aura burned with magic.
The magic man and I met one another's stares. "Elijah made a promise to Elena," he announced to us. "I'm here to see it's upheld." He turned towards the others, nodding as he added, "You need to go."
Stefan and the man beside him moved towards Caroline and I. I stepped to put myself before Caroline, to shield her from them, but she grabbed my arm in a hold far gentler than the men who'd attacked me. "It's okay." She met my gaze and said, "They're my friends."
I read the truth of this in her now haunted eyes before nodding and stepping aside. She hurried over to Stefan and the dark haired, blue-eyed man.
The two men looked quizzically at me, but I was already turning back to my car. Caroline was amid friends. Vampires, I realized. Despite the agony she'd endured, she'd been uninjured when I'd found her. If I'd bothered to study her beyond human senses, no doubt I'd find death's shroud wrapped around her. Just as it was Elijah.
The Corolla's door creaked shut. Turning the ignition, I gazed through the windshield to find the two men switching their stares between the magic man and I.
I shifted the car into reverse and hurried back down the street.
The mother would be wondering where I was. And Grey's Anatomy was on.