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Chapter L - Oh, How She's Bloomed
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Athena turned off the lights as she went back through the castle. Everything was in its place, everything was as it should be.
She stood in front of the doorway and peered into the Grand Hall. Near the fireplace, in the master's chair, she thought she saw the outline of a man. One knee was crossed over the other, and his face was focused on the book in his hands.
Stretching her neck, the woman tried to catch a glimpse of this apparition. But when she looked again, he was gone. Her eyes sank, then so did the rest of her body.
She turned around and opened the tall, heavy doors. Light filtered into the dark castle, streaming into her face. Squinting, she caught sight of her father's mare.
"Let's go home, girl," she said, untying the reins from the post and leading the mare to the end of the driveway. Athena's feet wobbled on the ground, for she was too weak to walk properly.
The mare nudged her along, helping her stay steady.
"I know, I know. I'll be alright. Don't worry about me."
At the end of the driveway, Athena put the reins over the horse's neck. She took hold of the saddle and tried to lift herself up, but couldn't muster the strength to finish the job. Her pretty white shoes hit the ground. She sighed.
Suddenly, a long, whooping holler broke out against the trees.
The mare's ears turned to face the sound. Athena's eyes followed.
It was the shadow of a tall man. He took broad steps out of the forest.
Athena reached back, taking hold of the saddle.
He called out: "Need help there, lass?" His voice was big and booming, echoing all across the fields and open spaces. It bounced across the castle and reverberated back to her.
The woman took a breath but fumbled with her words: "N-no, thank you, kind sir," she stammered in a whisper tone. She faced the saddle, holding onto it for dear life.
The mare snorted, trying to figure out what this strange man's intentions were.
His steps grew louder and louder as he closed in on Athena. The pebbles shifted under his weight. Athena could almost feel his hot breath on the back of her neck.
"Hello, miss," he said, his voice kind and dear. There was a low rumble in his throat as he spoke, but at the same time, his words were so dark and smooth and articulate. Like fine red wine.
"Good day, sir," Athena replied, her eyes glued to the saddle.
"Do you need any assistance?" His feet shuffled in the ground behind her, and she heard his hands rustling into his pockets.
"No, thank you. I can manage," she whispered. Her fingers shivered as they moved up to take hold of the reins. She fit her foot in the stirrup and pulled herself up, but her muscles failed her. She held the position for a moment, her legs and arms shaking, before landing on the ground again.
"Here, miss. Let me help."
Soft, unmarred hands, like a baby's—although a rather large baby—, slid into her palm. She felt his warmth and sweat through the lace gloves.
Squeezing her fingers gently, the man help her again to reach the saddle. She stood up in the stirrup while he pushed her hand, using his immense yet gentle strength to guide her into the saddle. Upon sitting, she patted her dress down. The mare whinnied and the woman took hold of the reins, ready to ride off.
"Thank you, sir," she said, not daring to look at this stranger.
"Of course, Miss Everleigh."
Athena whipped her face around, her eyes boring into his features like a cat's sharp huntress gaze.
The man's coloring was rich and vibrant—neither ruddy nor pale nor tan, but a fair, lovely tone with a note of deep pink. He was clean-shaven with a strong jaw and prominent features. His hair was tidy and well-taken-care-of, pushed back, like the men in London. And his clothes reminded her of her father's, but instead of a white suit, it was black—a dark, dark black just like the man's slick hair. A tiny red rose rested in his suit pocket.
"Who are you?" she asked, her eyes racing up and down his body.
He took a breath, but before he could even get a word out, Athena discovered his eyes.
And in his eyes, she found home. Blue, the color of what lies beyond the earth, the color of the atmosphere, of space and mists, and the heavens and the land of spirits. The color of words and abstract language and thought and emotion. Blue.
"Is it... really you?"
Claudius laughed his booming, hearty laugh, and his barrel chest rose and fell. "It's really me, my love, it's really me." He clasped his hands around hers.
Athena's mouth hung agape. Her face and eyes flitted between emotions. Tears welled up in her eyes. She pulled away from him, in shock. "But… how?" she cried.
"Oh, Athena, you did it! I wasn't sure if you ever would, but you did!" he said, joy spreading across his face, which wasn't scruffy and scaly anymore, but soft and… manlike.
"I did… what?" she asked, almost falling off of the mare as she leaned back.
"Athena," he spoke, reaching out for her wavy curls, and petting them, "when I died, my father made a deal with me."
The woman's eyes widened. She shivered as he touched her. What if it was another apparition or a spirit?
"What do you mean? What kinda deal?" She gasped. "Y-your father?"
He smiled, and his teeth reflected in the sunlight. His fangs were gone and his lips were pink, not purple and blue. "My father visited me in the spirit realm—he has the ability to do that as an Elder and Patriarch—and he made a deal with me, or rather, he cast another spell upon me." Claudius drew nearer to her. "I realized that you needed to grow into a woman on your own before I returned. I know that must sound cruel of me, but there can never be any spells or enchantments of any kind without stipulations or ways to break them. Oh, Athena, I wanted to be with you, but I had to wait."
He reached his hand out to cup her cheek, but she pulled away from him. A hurt look spread across his face. "What's wrong, my love?" he asked.
Athena's head dipped, but her mouth was still wide open. She stared at the ground for a few moments, emotionless, expressionless. But eventually, the woman picked her head back up and looked into the man's eyes.
"It is hard for me to believe that this is you." She winced. "You died, Claudius, and I mourned for you and grieved and hardly survived without you. It still feels like you're dead." The woman rubbed her arms. "I- I'm sorry."
"No, no, Athena, don't be sorry…." He backed away from the mare, looking at the ground, and rubbed the back of his neck. "The truth is, I was afraid this would happen."
"Why?" she asked, lifting her brows.
"Well, in the Spirit Realm… Oh, whenever you came to the castle during the day, I would wait for you and listen to everything you said. I saw everything you did."
Suddenly, Athena's eyes lifted and a wave of relief washed over her features. "So, all those times when I saw you, it wasn't just an apparition?"
He smiled a warm smile. "I don't believe so."
"Oh, thank goodness," she cried. "I was so afraid I was going mad." She placed a palm against her forehead and took several deep breaths in. "What a relief!"
Claudius grinned, and for the first time, she saw he had dimples. His beard had always covered them. "Oh, Athena, I know it must have seemed this way but… I never left you. I was always there with you. I know you said that it was my fault, and in some ways, it was—"
"You heard that, huh?" she asked, her shoulders drooping.
"I did but… I believe that you are right," he replied looking into her eyes and nodding his head.
"About it bein' your fault?"
"Well, not… necessarily that but—" He sighed then cleared his throat. "About being naïve and young. We were both too eager to love and be loved, Athena," he said, calmly, slowly. "You gave up your love for me which is a beautiful, wonderful thing to do but… you hadn't even found yourself and so you gave all you had and nothing was left."
He reached out for her hand again, and this time, she took it. They both stared into one another's eyes—she from on top of the saddle and him from the ground below.
"Athena, I don't want you to feel meaningless—worthless—without me. Because you are not. And I'm so proud," he patted her hand, "so proud of you for discovering your worth." The man dropped his head. "I should have known, as old as I am, that what I was doing to you, such a young child, was unfair. I shouldn't have allowed such a relationship to flourish when you were so young and impressionable. That is entirely my fault," he apologized, letting her hands fall. "I hope you can forgive me."
The woman paused, watching while his feet shifted in the ground and he rocked back and forth, his hands behind his back. The top of his head reflected the bright sunlight.
"Oh, Claudius, it's alright. Of course, I forgive you."
Claudius lifted his head to find the woman smiling brightly. He smiled back at her and said: "You gave me a chance to live the way I have always dreamt of. You don't know how much this means to me. I want… Oh, there are so many things I want to do!" He looked off into the distance, grinning like a fool. "Go to late-night balls, spend the night somewhere that is not the castle, stargaze and articulate which constellations are which—"
"Wait," Athena cut him off. "Stargaze? Do you mean that… you are not a dragon anymore?"
Claudius's body rose, and his lips tilted upward as far as they could possibly go. "Another part of the deal," he said, breathing in and out, unable to contain his joy. "I'm… a man."
Athena at first had her mouth hanging wide open and her eyes bugged out, but soon she giggled and kicked her feet just like a child. "Oh, Claudius! Really? Truly?"
"Yes, my dear, I could hardly believe it at first either!" Sighing, he turned his face once again to Athena, and his cheeks turned a deep red. "I hope that we can begin again, my dear. I want to give you everything a man possibly can," he said. "But, I understand if perhaps you do not want to romance one another as we once did, and if you need time to decide, I completely understand. It is perfectly understandable that—"
Athena cut him off before he could stammer himself into a stupor: "Claudius, thank you. You have always been so kind and understanding," she said. Her eyes turned plaintive. "I wish I could say that we can pick up things where we left off but… I can't."
Nodding his head, the man blinked a few times before facing the ground.
"I still love you, Claudius," she said, and he perked up a bit. "But I've… got to do things for meself before I can do things for the both of us." The woman laid a hand on his shoulder, reassuring him.
The man lifted his head, sniffling as tears welled up in his eyes. "I completely agree."
Athena tilted her head to the side, grinning, before reaching a hand out to him and wiping his eyes. Her hand eventually went down the side of his smooth cheek. "I can't believe you shaved."
He cracked a laugh, dipping his head, before declaring: "And I can't believe you're wearing makeup."
Suddenly, the woman's face flushed and she reared back. "Oh, I forgot! I- I- Oh, is it too much? I know I don't look anything like I used to, Claudius…."
"Athena, Athena," he cooed, calming her down. "You look more like yourself now than ever before."
She quirked an eyebrow. "You really think so?"
"I do, yes. The makeup suits you, and so do the colors and flowers of this dress. You look like a lady." He grinned, his teeth poking out from beneath his lips.
"Oh, Lord, you don't really mean that," she teased. "I've looked so horrid!"
Claudius shook his head and smiled a wise old smile. "You know, someone once told me that clothes and fashion are just an expression—a manifestation—of who we are and how we feel. And, I must say, it was so wonderful today to see you not wearing black, to not be covering your face with a veil anymore. That's how I knew, it was time. You had found yourself after so much grief. I know that you wish you could probably look like you once did, but that is not possible, my dear. You can only move onward from here."
Athena's face softened, then she giggled. "I thought you didn't agree with Henri's sentiment."
"I didn't," he declared. "But I understand what he meant now. After all," he rubbed his hand across the new suit, "I never took a chance with what to wear or what I should look like. Do you think this suits me?" He held his arms out and turned around, his heels clunking into the ground.
Athena giggled again, her hand covering her mouth. "Oh, it is quite different but— I do think it suits you. It will take some getting used to on my end, however."
They both laughed for a time, before the whipping wind and the nearby waves beating into the cliffs below were the only things to be heard. Everything was serene and right in the world—the sky so blue, the trees so green, the castle so silvery and shimmery. Not a cloud in the sky, nor another person in sight.
"I've missed you, Claudius," Athena admitted, sliding carefully off of the mare. "Even if your spirit was with me then, it's wonderful to be with you here and now, body and soul. I forgot what that felt like."
The man backed a few steps away. The woman was still so small and slight in front of him, just as she had always been. "Yes, it is—" he cleared his throat, "so nice to, finally, be able to express things to you. Not hidden behind a wall." He did not want to take things too far, too fast. The last thing he wanted was to take the wrong path, make another mistake, everything be his fault all over again.
But suddenly, the woman took a few steps forward. Claudius lifted his eyebrows. She flung her arms around him, hugging his midriff and leaning into his chest before he could step away.
The woman revealed: "My mind didn't want to believe it was really you… and I still need time to— process all of this. But, Claudius, oh Claudius," she cried. "At least now I know you're real." She squeezed his waist, nuzzling into him, smelling that forestry pine scent. Hearing his heartbeat.
Claudius's slight apprehension melted away. "Yes, Athena," he said, petting the top of her head, "I am real."
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The final few customers of the evening shuffled out of the shop. Henri Clermont bid them all well as the evening sun drifted below the Dublin skyline. Workers popped in and out of dressing rooms, retiring their uniforms and changing into everyday wear.
"So long!"
"Good day!"
"Farewell!"
Henri waved goodbye but soon returned to his new sketchbook after each call to him. Margie and Rubina were always the last out the door, and he always made it a point to speak directly to them about what they were doing well with and what could be improved regarding the way they handled business.
Soon, the two young women made headway out of the shop, and the bell jingled for what he presumed would be the final time that day.
Reds, purples, and oranges from the evening sun bled into the room, turning his sketchbook a fiery gold. But he continued to draw anyway. It was a new suit, black with gold trim. Elegant and sleek.
Some thirty minutes passed when, out of nowhere, the doorbell chimed again. Henri remained focused on his work, but still called out: "My apologies, but we are closed."
"Ah, forgive me," a man's voice rang. "But I saw the hiring sign in the window, and thought I could be of service."
Henri paused to think. He frowned and knitted his eyebrows together, but soon laid his sketchbook down. "Alright, monsieur," he spoke, frustrated at having to leave his work. "What position are you interested in? Currently, I am looking for someone to—"
The Frenchman lifted his eyes. A man stood in the doorway, covered in the color of dusk. He had a meek, sheepish grin on his face. And a new suit—practically just off the shelves in London—adorned his tall frame.
Henri squinted, piecing together who this was. "We have met before, no?"
The man in the doorway took off his hat and bowed deeply. "It's been a while, my friend."
Stepping back, Henri ran into the wood booth behind him. His eyes widened as he clutched onto the wood, digging his nails into it. "Cl-Claudius? But how did you survive?!"
Claudius shook his head. "I died, old friend. But my father's spell brought me back to life. Thanks to him, and Athena, I am here." He opened up his arms and gestured to the shop.
Henri ran his hands through his hair. "I don't understand…."
Taking a few steps forward, Claudius made his way through the shop, straight to Henri. "Come, let's sit down and I'll explain it to you." He smiled, patting his friend on the back.
Henri gasped at the tall man in front of him; he stood nearly a foot higher. He looked into Claudius's eyes, and there found the truth. "I can't believe it. It's really you! Mon Dieu… mon Dieu…." The Frenchman palmed his forehead and nearly fell against the booth behind him before catching himself.
"Aye, so it is," Claudius said, taking a seat on top of one of the tables next to Henri. "So, tell me again: What jobs are available?"
Henri turned to face Claudius, his mouth hanging wide open. But soon his face changed into a grin and then a large belly laugh came out of him. "With you, mon ami," he said, "and your great talents, you can have any job in the world you could possibly want." He leaned back, still grasping onto his head, laughing hysterically as he took it all in.
Again, Claudius patted him on the back and laughed alongside him. "Ah, I most certainly could. But why work for anyone, when I could work for the famous Monsieur Clermont!"
Henri scoffed jokingly, rolling his eyes. "You and your words. Making things seem greater than they really are."
"Then won't I make a fine salesman?" he asked, spreading his arms out wide and grinning through gritted teeth.
Henri couldn't help but smile at his old friend's foolishness. He crossed his arms. "We shall see. You will be hired, but only if…" the Frenchman arched one his brows, "you tell me exactly how you came to be alive after death."
Claudius's laughter echoed throughout the room, before giving his long, great speech: "Well, first of all, I must tell you about my old clan and my father. You've never heard anything about him, haven't you? Well, everhow, the dragon clan I was born into had one Patriarch and one Matriarch. My father just so happened to be the Patriarch and ..."
Henri leaned against the old wooden booth, held his hand under one chin, and listened to the story and the winds from the outside as they blew.
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Midnight crept upon the old, worn-down pub. Whiskey splashed against the walls at this hour, and horrid sounds blurted out of the out-of-tune piano.
But for Mrs. O'Dair, this hour was bliss. This was when most of her work got done, even in the chaos of drunken men rumbling and telling their fishing tales of the day and havoc. Somehow, the ruckus calmed her spirit in a way. For, when she was by herself during quieter hours of the day, there were so many small inconveniences to be distracted by. One glass shard from a broken whiskey bottle in the middle of the floor, or two dead rats in the hallway, or three drunkards wreaking havoc at the bar. Well, at midnight, the inconveniences turned into the norm. And here, she could just do her job without being distracted by all of the little things, because there weren't any little things to worry over.
She swept, humming to the tune of the old piano. She slipped a tiny bit in a puddle of whiskey, but immediately picked herself back up, drumming along with the chorus of the night. And, although no one knew, she might have been the slightest bit tipsy herself.
The plump woman swept until she reached the cellar, where those beady red rat eyes popped up at her, watching her every move.
"Jus' you wait until we get ourselves another cat, ya hear me?!" she screeched at the creatures.
But then, out of nowhere, what felt like feathers—no, fur—brushed up against the bottom of her dress. A sleek gray cat nuzzled into the hem.
"Why, I don't believe me own eyes!" she shouted. "It—It's Milly! Oh, Milly!" Mrs. O'Dair dropped the broom and jumped for joy. "Ah, I thought ye ole girl had surely perished! You sneaky little varmint, you," she teased, waving her finger at the cat. "Where have you been all these years? Off findin' those toms, I 'spose? Ah, well, back to work fer ya!" She directed the cat toward the cellar. "They're all yours, lass! Lord knows we've needed you here. I wisht you'd come sooner!"
Mrs. O'Dair shut the door, and soon the lovely squaller and squeals of rats' last dying breaths could be heard. Sweet music to the old woman's ears.
She thought to herself how much Milly had grown. After all, four or five years for a cat was a long time, the woman imagined. Unless, of course, you counted their extra lives. But, even so, Milly was nothing like the scrawny kitten of yesteryear. Her coat now was so silky and silvery, and her eyes so glittery and blue—just like the oceans or the sky or the moon. The little kitten had certainly blossomed into a queen. Like the wild roses on the hill above the roaring waves of the seashore. Oh, how they bloomed in the springtime.
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End of Part V - A Man Reborn