I do not know how long I will have before they come back for me, so I must get this finished now. I want to put my emotions and my reasons into words, if I can. Perhaps that will help my seniors make a decision.
First and foremost, I offer my apologies to Lubos. I meant no disrespect at all, and if he has been hurt by my actions, I regret it profoundly.
My head is spinning. I can hardly think. I do not know if I was in the right or the wrong, if I am sick with guilt or burning with rage or quaking with fear. I do not know what will happen to me.
But she is safe. At the very least, my fire woman is safe. I did not fail her as I did Shannon.
I must explain.
Today I was feeling a bit agitated, like something was going to happen. I have had these feelings before, and often it means that one of my charges will need me soon. But on checking in with them, I found nothing. Harrington was having a restful evening with his family, having just gotten back from dinner at a restaurant. Ted had his feet up on his back porch, wrapped in a blanket against the chill as he watched the stars. Grace was singing Shep to sleep again, having tried once already to put him down, but she didn’t mind the chance to hold him once more before bed. And Gabrielle was curled up with Nick, watching a movie.
It then occurred to me that the call might be coming from Shannon, but I was not permitted to answer it, if so. That thought depressed me, so I decided to pay Freya a visit. It always cheers me to see her.
I arrived just seconds before Peter began pounding on her door.
Freya looked up from her book, startled, and we both listened to the hoarse voice above the knocking. “Fraaaaayyy,” he called. “Freya, open the door! I want to talk to you.”
Freya’s stomach was sinking. She did not want to let him in, and I agreed with her. I sent for Lubos immediately—I did do that. But he did not come right away, and so I was the one who followed Freya to the door. There was no way that I was going to leave her alone.
She stopped a few feet from the door and did not reach for the knob. “Peter,” she called, and the knocking stopped. The sudden silence was not a reassurance. “Peter, are you drunk?”
He didn’t answer for a moment, as if he had to think about it. “Maybe,” he said finally.
Freya rolled her eyes. “Go home, Peter. And do the world a favor—take a cab.”
“Listen to her, so righteous! I’m not so drunk I can’t drive my car, Freya, and I’m definitely not so drunk that I can’t talk to you. Open the door, please.”
“No,” she said, folding her arms. “If you want to talk, you can call me tomorrow when you’ve sobered up.” She turned her back and started back into the living room.
Peter persisted, though. He knocked again, a full-fisted pounding that made Freya flinch. “Come on, Fray, I want to see your face and I have to work tomorrow night. Please let me in! Please—oh, wait!”
The silence fell again, and neither Freya nor I knew what to think, until we heard the scrabbling at the lock and Freya remembered that she had given him a key. Cursing, she bolted for the door, trying to secure the chain before he could open it, but she wasn’t fast enough. He stumbled into the house, nearly knocking her from her feet.
“Whoa,” he said and smiled, winding an arm around her waist. “Hey, baby.”
Freya twisted herself free. “Well, congratulations, you figured out how to unlock the door,” she said, her voice sharp with sarcasm. “That’s impressive since you smell like a bar. I’ll take that key now.” She held out her hand.
I stood just behind her, scrutinizing Peter’s aura. It had that wavering quality that often comes with the consumption of alcohol, an uncertain state that might tip one direction or another quite suddenly. At that moment, he was not angry, and Freya was not afraid, but I knew that could change in a heartbeat, so I kept my wings extended, warning him to keep his distance.
Peter stared at her, a small smile on his face. “You’re so beautiful,” he said. “I didn’t tell you that enough, did I?”
“Thanks, now you have. Key, please.”
“But it’s still not enough. You need someone who will tell you you’re beautiful every single day.” Peter shook his head sadly. “I could still be that person, you know.”
“No, you really couldn’t.”
“Where did we go wrong, Fray?” Peter asked mournfully. “I thought—I thought you loved me.”
Freya kept her expression even, though that did cut close to her heart. “And then I didn’t anymore,” she said.
“Oh, come on, that’s not true,” Peter said, taking a step closer. I spread my wings wider, washing him in disapproval, and he stopped, frowning. “We were good together. We still could be good together. I miss you.”
“I bet you do,” Freya said. “But you know what, Peter? I don’t miss you. You’re right, we were good together, but now I’m realizing that I’m better off without you.”
Peter shook his head again, as if he just couldn’t believe it. “What? What do you mean?”
Freya shrugged. “What I said. I poured my heart out for you, and it was nice at first, but I wasn’t getting enough back. So I’m better off now.”
“But that’s what I’m talking about,” Peter protested. “I can do better. I’ll tell you how beautiful you are.”
“There’s more to it than that, I’m afraid,” Freya said with a rueful smile. “Sorry, Peter, but you really have to go now, and I need that key.” She stepped forward, though I was frantically trying to keep her away from him, and reached for his keys.
He stumbled away and put them behind his back. “No—if I give you the key I won’t be able to come back!”
“That’s the idea,” she said. She was losing her wariness, underestimating him. “Now, come on, I don’t want to have to change the locks.”
As she tried to get behind him, he spun around and caught her by the shoulders, trying clumsily to kiss her. She wrenched free with a cry of protest and struck him across the face.
That was what tipped the scales. I saw his aura light with anger and cried out for Lubos again, but he did not come. No one came, and Peter turned on Freya with eyes burning. “Ow,” he said, and he raised his fist.
I don’t know what made me do it. I didn’t even know that I could do it. I just…did it. I lunged forward, into Freya, and though she had not even seen his hand flying towards her, her own hand rose and caught his wrist, stopping him short.
Perhaps this will hurt my cause, but I must be honest—to be in flesh, to dwell within the physical even for a moment, was… There are not words. I felt her heart pounding, the sudden spike of fear and surprise, the catch of her breath; I saw her hair flying past her eyes, felt his tendons shifting under her hand, smelled the beer on his breath. I was there, I was real, I was moving, and even in my anger and determination, I felt the wonder of it.
But most incredible was the closeness that I felt with Freya’s spirit. It was ablaze suddenly, with indignation and hurt and a fierce, white anger. I could not quite tell whether the anger was hers or mine or both.
“Hands off,” we said together, and we pushed Peter away.
He tumbled backwards right out the door and narrowly missed rolling down the front steps. His keys landed on the mat in front of the door, but he did not seem to notice them. He looked up, his eyes wide with terror, and for a moment I was sure that he saw me.
Good, I thought—and Freya heard me. She stiffened, confused and frightened by the errant thought, and then we sprang apart, both breathless and shaken.
I crumpled behind her, feeling as weak as if I had been away from heaven for several days. Now came the astonishment—how had I done what I had just done? How could she have heard my voice so directly? Did she know I was there?
She stood over both of us, Peter and I, for a long moment. Then she took a breath and calmly reached down. Peter scrambled back, bumping down a step or two, but Freya only picked up his keys, removed the one to her house, and tossed the rest in his direction.
“Go home, Pete,” she said softly, and she closed the door on him. Then she fell back against the door, staring at nothing—or at me.
I wanted to speak to her, to make certain she was all right, to make certain I was all right, to ask what in heaven and earth had just happened. But then I heard wings behind me, and Danit and Kuya were there. They said nothing to me, only took me by the arms and swept me away, so that in an instant Freya was alone, and I was back in heaven, with nothing but whiteness around me.
Danit said nothing to me, and they moved so quickly that I did not have the chance to read their auras. I have not been permitted visitors, and I imagine if I tried I could not leave this place, wherever it is, although I have not tried. For a second time I have broken the laws of heaven, and this is a grave offense. I feel it heavy in my soul.
And yet…
I failed Shannon in a similar circumstance, and the guilt was bitter. This guilt—it is clean, somehow. I did wrong, I know that, but at least no innocent will suffer. I would far rather bear the consequences myself than have Freya feel that pain.
As to what those consequences will be…well, now all I can do is wait.