Revelation: Trinity Part 1 Page 10

  ***

  Rose watched Nate leave, wondering whether she’d hurt his feelings. She probably should have gone for coffee with him, she realised, but it felt too simple, too trivial for her current mood. As much as she would enjoy Nate’s company, she knew he wasn’t the person she wanted to speak to right now.

  “Are you okay?” Christian asked, coming up to stand behind her, as the last student left the hall.

  Rose shrugged, before turning to face him, already smiling.

  “I’m fine,” she said. “Nate will get over it.”

  He nodded, his arms crossed in front of his chest. “I have some free time this afternoon,” he said, hesitantly. “I was going to head to the library, and I wondered…”he trailed off, unsure.

  “Want some company?” Rose asked, and watched his face lift into a pleased smile.

  They walked slowly through the grounds, content to take their time. Neither commented as they crossed the bridge at Garret Hostel lane, choosing, instead, to point out the people punting along the river, the colour of the autumn leaves that crunched under their feet, the welcome chill of the breeze that ruffled their hair.

  They reached the library, making their way to the table that had quickly become ‘theirs’. Rose sat down, as Christian settled in opposite.

  “I can’t tell you,” he said, continuing the conversation. Rose had wanted him to answer some questions – about Heaven and Hell, God and Satan, but he wouldn’t be budged.

  “I’ve already told you too much,” he shrugged in apology.

  Rose frowned, disappointed. “You know everything about me,” she reminded him. “But I can’t ask about you?”

  Christian sighed, his expression troubled, and she could see he was as frustrated as she was that he couldn’t tell her any more.

  “Perhaps…” he began, and Rose lifted her head, hopefully. “If you keep your questions specific?” He smiled as she beamed at him. “I can’t answer anything about my world,” he warned. “But I can tell you about me, if you like?” He looked worried, like it wouldn’t be enough.

  “Okay,” Rose agreed readily, pleased to have made some progress. “You’re the part I’m most interested in anyway –” She stopped, feeling colour heat her cheeks, but he laughed, seeming pleased.

  “Ask away,” he offered, leaning forward. “I’ll tell you what I can.”

  Rose considered him, wondering where to start. She had hundreds of questions, but now, given the opportunity, she didn’t know which to pick.

  “Okay, let’s start with the basics,” she finally decided. “What makes you different from a mortal?”

  “Not a lot, to be honest,” Christian said. “I’m made in man’s form. My body functions the same as any other. I eat, drink and sleep like man.”

  “But you have wings,” Rose reminded him.

  He grinned. “On occasion, but they don’t really count.”

  Rose rolled her eyes, wondering how he could be so blasé about the idea of wings. “Surely there must be something?” she urged.

  “I don’t need much sleep,” he offered. “I can function on none if required. I’m stronger than what’s considered… typical, I suppose. I don’t get sick or age…”

  “Were you born?”

  “No – not in the traditional sense.” He shrugged. “I was never a child, I will never be old. My form will never change. I simply… am.”

  “Do you have a belly-button?”

  He laughed, caught off-guard by her question. “What?”

  “Well, if you weren’t born,” she explained, “you don’t really need one.”

  For a moment, Christian looked stumped.

  “Yes,” he said, finally. “I do. Although, now you’ve pointed it out, I have no idea why.”

  “Aesthetics,” Rose guessed. “You’d look weird without one.”

  He grinned in agreement.

  Rose wanted to see it. His navel, his stomach, his back, his skin. She wanted to know if he had tan lines, or freckles, or scars. She wanted to know everything she could about the man who sat before her.

  “How old are you?”

  Christian hesitated, considering her before he spoke. “Just under two-thousand mortal years,” he said, eventually.

  “Two-thousand? That’s…” Rose shook her head, unable to voice her surprise.

  “Older than you were expecting,” he assessed, calmly.

  “I suppose… I’d not really thought about it,” Rose admitted, still reeling. “But you don’t seem so much older than me?”

  “Perhaps you’re an old soul,” he teased, lightly.

  “Perhaps,” she shook her head. “Not two-thousand years old though. What did you do before I was born?”

  “The same as I do now.”

  “You mean, you were a Guardian to others?” she asked. “Not just me?”

  Christian nodded.

  “Oh.” Disappointment flooded her veins, although she didn’t really know why. “Well, I guess that makes sense,” she said, eventually. “Two-thousand years is a long time, you must have had lots of Wards…”

  “Eighty-five,” he confirmed, softly. “Eighty-six including you.”

  Rose couldn’t imagine it. All those people, and he’d seen it all, from the moment of their birth, through to their final breath.

  “What about friends?” she asked, needing to move on. “Who are you close to?”

  “Guardians don’t really have friends,” he said. “We acknowledge each other from time to time, but it’s usually in passing. The only member of the Celestia I see on a regular basis is Nisroc – my boss,” he added, for her benefit, “and even that can be decades apart. I’ve had a few mortal acquaintances, I guess, but not for years now.”

  “Mortal?” Rose questioned. “But I thought you couldn’t interact?”

  “I’ve never been able to interact with my Ward,” he explained. “Until now, of course. Until you,” he amended, with a soft smile. “But I have, in the past, done a little… socialising. As long as I’m discrete, it’s not a problem.”

  “Tell me about them, then.”

  Christian sat back in his chair, making himself comfortable as he thought. “Well,” he began, “I guess the closest I ever got to a friend, was Frank.”

  “Frank?”

  “He was a boxer,” Christian said. “Irish. He owned his own club in London.”

  Rose smiled at the image he conjured. “How did you meet him?”

  “My Ward, at the time, was a young girl, who had just got married. She and her husband, well, let’s just say I needed to find somewhere else to be.”

  Rose grinned as he raised an amused eyebrow, not needing to ask what he meant.

  “I enjoy combat,” he continued. “The training, the discipline.” He shrugged. “This was in the nineteen-twenties, when boxing was pretty huge, so I joined a club.”

  “Frank’s club,” Rose confirmed. He nodded.

  “We used to spar once or twice a week. He was a good guy. Had a wife and three girls he liked to talk about.”

  “How long did you know him?” she asked.

  “Almost fifteen years,” he said. “The longest I’ve known any mortal.”

  “What happened?”

  “The same thing that always happens,” Christian sighed. “He got older, and I didn’t. He started asking questions that I couldn’t answer, so…”

  “You left?”

  He nodded. “I had to.”

  “Did you ever see him again?”

  “No,” he said, softly. “He died in nineteen-sixty-eight. A heart attack, I think.”

  His expression turned melancholy, and Rose was sad for him. What must it be like, she wondered, to have to move on every time he got close to someone? Forever hiding who he was?

  “You won’t ever have to leave me,” she said, simply.

  Christian looked up, and Rose watched his expression lift in surprise.

  “No,” he agreed, his eyes light as they met hers. “I guess I w
on’t.” He held her gaze for a long moment.

  “I’ll be the talk of the town,” Rose grinned, feeling the need to lift the suddenly heavy air between them. “The old lady who spends her days with a man in his twenties. They’ll call me a cougar.”

  Not to your face,” he quipped.

  “But I won’t care,” Rose said, smiling. “Because we’ll know the truth.”

  Christian smiled in agreement, his eyes filled with warmth.

  “And Ben, of course, And Ana,” Rose said, remembering her friends. “Although it’ll lose its effect if there are four of us…” She paused, noticing that Christian had gone quiet.

  “About that,” he winced.

  Rose frowned. “You’re not going to ask me not to tell him, are you?” she asked, warily.

  “No,” he sighed, half exasperation, half amusement. “I know you could never lie to Ben – nor would I want you to,” he added, sincerely. “But I would ask for a little… time.”

  “Time?” Rose queried. “You mean, time before I tell him?”

  Christian nodded.

  “Why?”

  Christian paused, long enough for worry to creep over her skin.

  “Telling you who – what,” he amended, “I am? It’s not just frowned upon,” he explained, carefully. “It’s forbidden. It’s our most basic rule of conduct – which I’ve violated. There are likely to be… consequences.”

  “You mean, you’ll get in trouble?”

  “I don’t know,” he said. “Perhaps. So I would prefer to limit the number of people involved, just until I’m sure.”

  Rose nodded. “Of course,” she said, not wanting to put Ben in harm’s way. “I won’t tell him – not until you’re ready.”

  “Thank you.”

  The idea that Christian could get in trouble for simply telling her the truth made her stomach hurt, but she pushed it aside, unwilling to spoil the peace of the library.

  “Do you have any hobbies?” she asked, resuming their game, instead. “Interests?”

  “I read a lot,” Christian said, smiling at her continued questions. “Play a few instruments, and I like languages.”

  “How many do you know?” she asked, intrigued. “Languages?”

  He shrugged. “All of them.”

  “All of them?” she asked, in surprise. “You can speak every single language, ever?”

  Christian nodded as if it was no big deal. “You can tell a lot about a person from the language they use.”

  Rose nodded, lost in thought.

  “What’s your favourite ice cream flavour?” she asked, eventually.

  Christian huffed a laugh. “Chocolate,” he said, settling back into the simplicity of question and answer. “The good kind, with the chocolate shavings….”

  10

  The next day, Rose was half way across the courtyard, when she realised where she was going, her feet leading her back to the bridge.

  She trailed her fingers along the railing, looking for some sign that the other night had happened.

  The river glinted in the sunlight, and a pair of ducks glided by, glistening ripples trailing behind them. It looked so normal, so innocuous; hardly the setting for such an apocalyptic discovery.

  She was deep in thought, staring out over the water, when she became aware of someone calling her name.

  “Rose?” Nate stepped onto the bridge. “I’ve been calling you for ages. Didn’t you hear me?” He reached out and pulled her into his arms, kissing her cheek in greeting.

  “Sorry,” she said, distracted, her hands falling lightly against his chest, “I’m in a world of my own this morning.”

  Nate studied her with a small frown on his face. “Everything okay?” His fingers tightened at her waist, reminding her of the club, the way he’d kissed her – and shock flashed through her, she realised she’d forgotten all about it, about him.

  She smiled weakly up at his concerned expression, blinking as she tried to bring him into focus.

  Nate’s frown deepened. “So I was thinking,” he said, re-arranging his features carefully, “that maybe we could do something tonight? St John’s are hosting a cinema week. I was hoping you’d go with me?” The easy smile faltered when she didn’t respond. “Are you sure you’re okay?”

  Rose untangled herself from his arms, stepping back to look at him properly. Something was wrong; her vision had gone hazy, she could hardly –

  Shock pulsed through her when she finally focused. It wasn’t her eyes –

  Nate was outlined in a black glow, that flickered and pulsed as he moved, sucking the daylight from around him.

  She forced herself not to react, conscious of the warm prickle of heat rushing down her back as her chest tightened in panic.

  “I’m fine,” she said, glancing around, noting that everything else seemed to look normal. “Nate, I’m sorry but not tonight,” she uttered, her tone surprisingly steady. “I’ll talk to you later.”

  Before he could comment, she turned and walked away from Nate, towards the library. She kept her steps measured, despite her racing heart, fighting to get enough air into her lungs to keep walking.

  She reached the gate to the library in relief – only to pull up short as a couple walked through, surrounded in a haze of bright blue static that throbbed as they laughed together. The glare made her eyes sting and she turned away, rushing past them to continue down the path.

  Noise filled her head and made everything brighter, louder. She almost missed the insistent ringing of the bicycle bell as she reached the main road, managing to veer out of the cycle lane just in time to see a neon-blue blur speed angrily by. Dazed, she stepped out into the road – and the sound of screeching brakes filled her ears.

  For one, horrifying, moment she saw the bright red bus inches from her face, understood the horror in the driver’s eyes – before she was yanked backwards forcefully, and the world turned upside down.

  ***

  Rose felt her legs give out, bile rising in her throat, her heart racing in her chest – before it all went quiet.

  The bus, the cyclist, the noises of the street – it had all disappeared.

  The arms that held her relaxed, helping to settle her down onto her bed, and Christian’s calming scent washed over her.

  Rose’s head hit his chest, grateful for the silence as she fought not to be sick, before her eyes popped open. Somehow, she was back in her dorm room.

  One look at Christian, his arms still steadying her, his expression filled with concern, and she was six years old again, blinking back tears as she took in the brilliant white glow that surrounded him.

  Feelings she’d fought so hard to forget rushed back in. The paralysing fear she’d felt trapped in the car, the weight of the claustrophobia that drew in around her, the grief as she’d realised her brother and uncle were dead.

  Rose put her head in her hands, and begged for it to stop.

  ***

  Panic seized Christian as Rose shrank away from him, covering her face with her hands. She cowered against the wall, fear trembling through her, as he tried to understand what was going on.

  He’d checked in on her the moment her heart rate spiked, and watched her talk to Nathaniel on the bridge, seeing nothing in their short conversation to cause the confusion that rippled through her. She’d left him in a hurry, and Christian had watched her stumble down the path to the library, growing more and more concerned with every step she took.

  Then she’d walked out in front of a bus – Rose, who always had been so careful before – and he’d not had time to think, had only acted, pulling her out of harm’s way and transporting her somewhere safe.

  Now he wondered if he’d hurt her – that such a sudden exposure to his world had shattered her mind in some way – and fear like he’d never known coursed through him.

  “Rose,” he demanded, holding her tightly by the shoulders. She was slick with sweat and shaking violently. “Rose, it’s me – look at me.”

  “To
o bright,” Rose mumbled, turning her head away. “So white, I can’t…”

  She clung to him, and he held her tight to his chest, trying to think through his panic enough to help her.

  Bright, white…

  It hit him all at once, shock rushing through him, and he fumbled for the mobile in his back pocket, calling the only person he could think of to help.

  “Ana,” he sighed in relief as she greeted him with a cheery hello on the other end of the line. “Where are you? Can you get to Rose’s room?”

  “Of course,” Ana said, instantly concerned. “What’s going on? Is Rose okay?”

  It took a moment for Christian to reply.

  “No,” he said, eventually, his arms tightening around his Ward. “Ana, I think she can see auras.”

  A sharp gasp, followed by the click of the line being disconnected, was Ana’s only response.

  ***

  Rose was vaguely aware of Ana arriving, of her talking to Christian in hushed tones, but the pain behind her eyes kept her blind to it. It was only when Ana knelt beside her that she looked up.

  “Hey, Rose,” Ana greeted, softly. “It looks like you’re having a little trouble with your eyes – do you want me to help you?”

  “Yes,” Rose bit out, the glare from Ana’s light fizzing in her already over-sensitive vision. She shut her eyes. “Please.”

  “Okay.” Ana took Rose’s head in her hands, tipping it towards her. “Then I need you to look at me, do you think you can do that?”

  Rose took a breath, steeling herself, and slowly pried her eyes open, blinking sharply to focus on her friend. Christian stood behind her, arms crossed at his chest, radiating concern. His glow was so luminous that Rose had to look away.

  “Good, okay.” Ana kept talking, her voice low and quiet. “Now, I need you to focus for me – can you tell me what you are seeing?”

  “Lights,” Rose said, breathlessly. “Around people – it’s so bright.”

  “Are the lights blue? Like my aura was?”

  Rose nodded in relief. “And white. And black,” she added, remembering Nate.

  “What?” Christian’s glared accusingly at Ana, “You showed her your aura?” he sounded furious.