4. Near-Death and Transfiguration
And that was the tableau that met Illumi's eyes when he burst from the path into the clearing, skidding slightly as momentum carried him still forward, observing the scene to assess, evaluate, and determine a course of action.
Mike hunched down in front of his prey; Miss VerHoffen, still alive, looking a little dazed and disheveled, with her hand stretched out in front of her. What was she trying to do, pet Mike? Unwilling to risk that his voice command would not be understood and complied with in time, Illumi elected to launch himself directly between the two, simultaneously shouting, "Back, Mike! Back!" and shoving Miss VerHoffen out of the way.
Eyes never leaving the loyal, fearsome animal his father had trained, Illumi continued to command its retreat in a lowered voice, even as he praised it for its watchfulness, "Good dog. Good Mike." Mike's eyes lit up as his tail raised and began to swat the surrounding trees with its wagging. His giant tongue lolled from his mouth in greeting, but Illumi managed to avoid most of it by burying himself between Mike's enormous head and shoulder, and reached up, scratching him behind one ear. "Go back, Mike. Go rest." Mike leaned into Illumi briefly, then woofed and lifted his head, turning and heading back to his kennel, located not far from the front gates of the estate.
Illumi dusted off the leaves and twigs and dog hair, and turned to locate Miss VerHoffen. After a brief survey of the ground within his field of vision, he saw…her shoes. It would seem he had pushed her with a little too much force, knocking her off her feet and out of her shoes. And what ridiculous shoes they were. More like slippers than shoes, they were unsuited for even the modest rigors of walking. He had at first believed them to be made of velvet, but closer examination revealed them to be suede, albeit the softest, thinnest chamois. They were dyed a deep rose and each had a satin ribbon threaded around the edge, presumably to hold it on. It had failed in its task.
"Miss VerHoffen?" Silence. "Miss VerHoffen?" he tried a little louder; still no response. A small worry began to creep into Illumi's mind. Had he been so focused on coming between her and Mike that he had hit her with enough force to injure her? That was a troublesome idea for someone who prided himself on his perfect control. No, he didn't think he could ever be that unaware, and even if that were the case, the girl's body had to be somewhere close by. He tucked her shoes into his waistband in the back and went looking.
He didn't have to look far. Behind one of the logs that served as rustic garden benches, lying in a pile of leaves either blown there by the wind or knocked down by Mike, was his quarry. The height of the bench had prevented him from seeing her before, but she hadn't really traveled any great distance. Still, it was apparent from her lack of response and her current motionlessness, that she was unconscious. Had her head connected with the log on the way down? Or was there a rock, or other hard object hidden under the leaves? He'd better check.
The clearing was almost entirely in shadow as Illumi knelt down and leaned forward to feel under her head. Like the last gasps of a dying man, the sun was throwing out brilliant golden rays in a futile effort to flout the coming darkness. One of them pierced through the surrounding trees, both blinding and illuminating. It struck Lucia and Illumi.
Everything seemed to freeze, as if the world was having its picture taken. It had taken a breath, and was holding it. Transformed in the golden glamour of the light, beneath him no longer lay the adolescent child of an important client, but an enchanted woodland nymph, a Titania. Her chest steadily rose and fell with her gentle breathing. Woven around and under the red and gold leaves, glinting like the gold leaf on the edges of old, well-bound volumes, her fine hair was spread in a corona around her head. The gossamer dress had ridden up, ghosting her thighs, and her legs had taken on the hue and sheen of alabaster. Her cheeks were flushed as the roses printed on her clothes, and her lips were slightly parted revealing edges of pearlescent teeth. Her dark gold lashes lay against her cheeks as her eyes were still closed. Illumi found himself struggling to remember their color. Blue? Gray? By some magic power of suggestion, or perhaps because of the light now striking them, they began to open. "Blue-gray," Illumi breathed.
It was like swimming up from the bottom of a lake. You could see the light above, and you knew you needed to reach it, but your arms and legs felt lazy and heavy, and you couldn't breathe under the water. Ever so slowly she felt her mind begin to clear. What had happened? Ah yes, a big monster, her steeling herself, and then…. What was that? Something…. No, who. Someone had appeared in front of her and knocked her to the ground. Who was that? An annoying light was shining right in her face, and she wanted to tell them to stop and give them a piece of her mind, but first she was going to have to open her eyes and see who they were. Redirecting all her willpower to her eyelids, she found at last she could open them.
At first she couldn't tell what she was looking at, something very dark, surrounded by the undimmed brightness of the sun. Gradually though, she began to be able to discern a figure. First she could only see hair, a raven curtain with highlights of burnished bronze like the armor of Achilles or some other heroic figure of ancient legend. When her vision cleared enough to see a face, all she could focus on were the eyes. Deep, unplumbed pools of mystery set into the whiteness and perfection of a marble statue. He was leaning over her, shielding her by blocking out some of the light, and staring directly into her own eyes intently, as if, just as in the old saying, he could actually see her soul in them. "Illumi?"
