Chapter 27
Over two weeks after the meeting with the human authorities, the Prince still had gotten no news about their decision. The waiting was killing him. He wasn't made to sit and wait. The large facilities of sterile lines and lifeless colors that was the agency were sealed from floor to roof to prevent any sunlight to get in and such design wasn't necessarily due to his or his sister's presence as guests. According to what he had learned after weeks living among human and special agents, this agency was a secret service for paranormal investigation and defense and functioned under the knowledge and with the finance of the government of the United States, yet in complete confidentiality. Although the existence of Agents Hellboy, Sapien, Sherman and Krauss seemed to already be of public knowledge despite the criteria and best judgement of the director, the human Tom Manning, the media in their insatiable morbid thirst to pry into everything and everyone had already taken enough pictures of the special agents to verify to the community their existence as beings with special powers. Apparently, the esteem and acceptance towards the special agents by the humans was directly proportionate to the level of aid they could provide to the society. And occasionally, as the time the demon Hellboy shot the Elemental, not even the best performance stuck to the commands to protect the citizens could secure them their gratitude and acknowledgement. Much the contrary. What future awaited Bethmoora once they returned to the light?
Whenever the Prince imagined himself returning to the royal chamber of Bethmoora, never, not even in his most unsettling nightmares, did he do it in the context of their visit to their native land a few weeks ago along with Nuala, the druids and Agents Hellboy and Sherman. Many times he dreamed of returning to Antrim carrying the complete crown of Bethmoora on his head. I am Prince Nuada, Silverlance, leader of the Golden Army. Is there anyone here who disputes my right? He'd never be able to say that sentence out loud, which by birthright was only his to utter. The golden soldiers slept dormant in their passive state as giant mechanical eggs. As he walked by the sides he couldn't help caressing their rough surface marked by harmless human swords. That had been the last battle of the superb soldiers, the great war against humans thousands of years ago. The one that covered all fields of Bethmoora with rivers of human blood. The master goblin recruited his people and in a matter of a few days, over two-thirds of the royal chamber had been freed from the soldiers to make space for the transplantation of the Elemental's descendants. Where for millennia slept the weapon capable of exterminating humanity, today took the roots of the forest demigods whose ichor could cure cancer, one of the most threatening diseases for humans.
Loreto was another guest of the agency. Already almost four months had passed since she accepted to be the bait to catch him. Her thoughts bounced in all directions. Her heart was still with her parents, knowing the suffering her disappearance was causing them. Sometimes he felt her drifting in her mind about her life choices. She thought about her music like one misses a loved one in the distance, however she despised the industry that squeezed her like yet another product. The only luxury she had allowed herself was the petition of an upright piano in her bedroom. As he walked through that aisle outside her closed door he used to hear her play, yet her voice remained silenced. She hadn't sung in months. They bumped into each other in the grand library that served as a place for leisure and gathering for the special agents. As the Prince observed with surprise and growing uncertainty the deep connection between Agent Sapien and his sister the Princess, he also noticed Loreto distantly, in spirit. Her life was on a standby, awaiting. Just like his. Agents Hellboy and Sherman would become parents in a matter of a few months more. The pregnancy of the pyrokinesic human progressed normally and the red demon went out of his way to tend to her needs and wishes. He felt curiosity about how they could have built a relationship being so different from one another. Nuala and the amphibian agent spent hours in each other's company. They talked about music, history, poetry, literature, travels. They held each other's hands and remained in silence for long periods of time, in deep telepathic connection. Loreto barely uttered words. Most of the time she approached the library to explore its rich book collection and to borrow a few to immediately return to her private room. She evaded his presence and gaze, yet Nuada was in her mind and heart. He knew it. The few times in those weeks he had had the chance to connect with her, her message was clear: she loved him, yet her complete uncertainty about the future prevented her from showing it. Her proximity hurt at an entire universe of distance.
Nuada spent the days training in the underground section of the agency. There he counted not only with the space to do so but also there was a group of machines designed by humans to lift weights and work out. Rarely did he ever spot a human agent down there to train. When he wasn't training, the Prince wandered through the endless aisles lost in thought. Sometimes he entered one of the many offices and labs to watch. In one of them he found a structure that looked familiar. He needed a few seconds to recognize the goblin mechanics of a safe box. It reminded him of his embedded one in the rock wall of his chambers beneath New York and how jealously he had saved the two parts of the crown away from the humans, certain he would get the third one from Nuala. Everything had been in vain. This one that, still sealed, laid on the work surface was one of the few safes extracted from the royal chamber of Bethmoora in Antrim following the advice of the wise druids. As they arrived in New York, the humans had requested his permission to analyze the goblin technology to emulate its design in their own inventions. Nuada didn't give much importance to that and agreed. Like everything else in the kingdom,he guessed in its interior there were millenary treasures destined either for him or Nuala when one of them ascended to the throne. Not only he and his sister awaited now for the reply of the human leaders with their destiny in their hands, the whole of dusty and rusty Bethmoora also did.
The human Tom Manning and the German Agent Krauss approached the library one day with good news. Agents Hellboy, Sherman, Sapien, his sister Nuala, Loreto and he paid attention.
"We've received news from Washington," the German agent said and gestured his hands in solemnity. "The authorities that took part in the meeting with His and Her Highnesses had communicated their decision to the U.S.A. President."
"Will you finally spit it out, fish-tank?," the red demon muttered with his mouth filled with chocolate and cereal bar.
Agent Krauss exhaled loudly through his mechanical gills and shook his head.
"They accepted the deal," he finally said.
Nuala held Nuada's hand, and they looked into each other's eyes. The hope in their golden pupils was bulging with tears. She smiled and held him tightly against her. The Prince battled the tears and the smile that insisted in manifesting on his lips. As they separated, Loreto sitting before him stretched her hands towards him. He took them and interlaced his fingers with hers. They looked into each other's eyes and for an instant everything around them disappeared.
I'd take you with me and we'd live in the shadows for the rest of our lives, I wouldn't care.
And I'd make you my queen, Loreto.
"There's only one detail," the human Tom Manning said, breaking the spell between them. "The director of the WHO has commissioned a thorough study of the forest demigods ichor to a select group of scientists and doctors under confidentiality agreement to verify its healing power and whether it can be applied to all degrees and types of human and animal cancer. They must also establish whether its properties can be successfully synthesized. Only then will she give her vote to begin the election of a territory to be the future realm of Bethmoora. They'll arrive in the upcoming days."
"I'm certain their results will be positive like ours," Agent Sapien said with enthusiasm and turned to face Princess Nuala.
Nuada saw them holding hands. His sister seemed happy by his side.
The positive answer from the human authorities did not ease his restlessness. Would they actually have a voice in the election of which corner of the world would be assigned for them? Night came and all human and special agents had retired to their private rooms in the facility. He couldn't sleep. Night was not a moment to rest. Night called for action. That's how it had been for eons and it was too late to change habits. Nuala, on the other hand, seemed to have adapted pretty well to the humans schedule. The Prince walked through the aisles, unable to ease his thoughts. The condescending nature of the negotiations, the charity of taking pity on them and allowing them to return to the surface, the indignity of having to accept scraps from a lower race than the elves... He didn't want to think like that, Loreto was human and somehow she had pierced deeply in his heart bewitching him completely.
The chords of the piano he suddenly heard stopped his traces on the spot. He knew the melody. He neared the door. On the other side was Loreto. She played the piano. Misty by Ella Fitzgerald. One spring night in 1942 he had listened to the great dame of Jazz sing that song live from the attic of the Grand Theater in New York. Loreto remained silent. The piano accompanied the lyrics that awaited for her voice that never came. Nuada leaned his forehead and opened hands on her closed door. He sighed, exhausted. The piano ceased. He knocked three times and moved away. Loreto was surprised to see him there. She let him in.
"Play it again, please," he said and looked at the instrument against the wall in front of her bed. He faced her before him. "Sing for me."
Loreto looked up to face him with a tight frown and tilted head. She went to the desk and dragged the chair next to the piano stool. She gestured for him to take a seat by her side. The Prince sat at her left, centimeters away from the keys and from her small and skilled hands going through them. She emanated a soft flower perfume that entered his nostrils like a spell. The melody came back to life; the notes resounded trapped in the wooden body of the piano and escaped, filling the place with their sweet color. Her voice trembled at first, so did her lower lip. There was a heartbreaking yearning which subtly was filtering through the words like a message in between the lines. Loreto closed her eyes. After months, she was singing again. Her eyelids shivered, her voice sunk into a thin yet strong thread that connected the words like one emotion, one torrent.
The notes resounded on the roof and floor and vanished in the silence. Nuada watched her spellbound. Loreto raised her hands from the keys and placed them on her lap. She turned to her left and faced him. A betraying tear escaped the corner of her eyes, leaving her exposed. Nuada caught it with his thumb. He caressed her cheek. Warm, soft. She closed her eyes and clung to his hand. She moved slightly backwards and removed a few fluffs from her pants, near her thighs.
"I wanted to include this song in one of my residence concerts at the theater like a small tribute to Mrs Ella," she said like a bittersweet anecdote and went through a few keys on the piano. "I wanted to play a few classics like a personal luxury."
"I missed your voice."
Loreto looked into his eyes. She traced his profile with the tip of her middle finger, barely brushing from his forehead, going down the bridge of his nose, his lips and ending on his chin. She smiled slightly. Nuada cupped her face with both hands and kissed her mouth with his eyes closed. They both sighed and melted in a slow kiss like a shy caress. They separated and crushed the tip of their noses. Loreto shook her head and brushed her nose with his. She grinned. Nuada let out a chuckle. It lasted but a second. He let his head fall and exhaled, deflating his shoulders. Loreto raised his face and asked without words what was going on.
"Am I doing right to place the destiny of my people in the hands of human leaders? What if they give us a piece of land that already belongs to a community and we have a conflict with them? What leftovers will they give us?"
Nuada stood up and paced the length of the room. Then he paced back repeatedly like a caged lion.
"My experience tells me not to trust, they'll betray us. I know them, once humans get too much power they forget about deals, values and principles and sell to the best bidder."
His voice became louder. Loreto stood up from the piano stool and went by his side. She placed herself in his path and forced him to face her.
"Do you know where I found the crown piece of Bethmoora my father mistakenly gave the humans? In an auction house."
Loreto didn't know how to respond. She lowered her gaze to the floor. Nuada moved away from her and turned to the wall, enraged. He turned back to Loreto.
"For them it was nothing more than a piece of archaic gold but for me...," he rubbed his face roughly. "That was my crown! My birthright!"
"Princess Nuala said you are the Sons Of The Earth, created to protect life, is that right?," Loreto asked and searched his eyes insistently.
The Prince frowned and nodded in silence.
"That's your original call then, isn't it?"
Nuada nodded and watched her closely.
"You're giving humanity the cure for one of the diseases that most people kill in the world. You're protecting us. Because we're not powerful like you are. We don't know what to do with so much power if we ever get to have it in our hands. We need a hundred lives to reach the level of wisdom necessary to exert power with judgment. Not all of us are like this, some of us don't want power. But the few humans who do are capable of killing, betraying, lying and stealing to get it. Their time on Earth is only a few decades compared to yours, however much damage those sons of a bitch do!"
The Prince walked to her and invaded her with his presence. He looked at her, so small and yet so giant at the same time.
"For whatever it's worth, I apologize in the name of all of my race who one day hurt you and your people," Loreto looked him in the eyes and took his big hands in hers. "Forgive everyone who ever hurt you, those who ever captured you, mistreated you, tortured you for they didn't know what they were doing. In their infinite ignorance and pettiness, many perhaps never noticed what they were doing was wrong."
She hugged him by his waist and buried her face in his chest. Nuada embraced her, enveloping her with his body.
"You must learn to forgive, my love, so that your heart heals, so you can love again, so you make space for beautiful things. Forgive to start over," she whispered against his chest and squeezed him.
The Prince let the tears roll freely down his cheeks and sobbed in silence. His chest cracked like a rock victim of a drought of millennia. The crying robbed him of air, the wrenching scream that could never escape bulged against his throat. He squeezed Loreto in his arms and wished to merge with her in one. He released the pressure enough to face her. She also cried. Her hazel eyes looked at him long and drowned in tears. He cupped her face.
"You speak like the future queen of Bethmoora. I love you, Loreto."
"And I you, Nuada."