Arianna Rose: The Gates of Hell (Part 5) (9 page)

“We have lost a great teacher, a great warrior, and a great friend.  But we needn’t cry.  We needn’t mourn.  He isn’t gone.”  Her voice welled from an untapped resource deep inside her, rich and clear.  “His mortal body will become one with the wind, just as he wanted it to, and continue forever.  I don’t know about you, but I personally feel a bit safer knowing he will be the breeze that blows at my back as I walk through life.”  A rumble of somber agreement rolled through the group.  “And while my heart aches to know I won’t see him in the forest training, or filling his plate at breakfast, I know I will see him again.”  She lowered her eyes to Ramiel’s slain body and addressed him directly.  “Until we meet again,
my friend, I wish you safe travel.  Godspeed, Ramiel,” she concluded, and tears that had been gathering spilled over her lower lashes.

As soon as the final word left her lips,
Briathos stooped and touched the flame to the base of the stacked wood with his lit torch.  The lumber ignited immediately and he resumed his prayer.  A breeze stirred and sent glowing embers high into the air before they fell like snow flurries, enclosing the group in a heated embrace. 

The fire staged a theatrical display, growing and raging until it tow
ered, stretching to the heavens and spawning tornadoes of smoke.  Pillars of spinning clouds, small and large, emerged and began a rolling, whirling dance before disappearing into the darkening sky.  Perhaps it was atmospheric conditions that caused this to happen.  Perhaps not.  Arianna believed Mother Nature had conspired with Ramiel long ago to put on a show that resembled shadowy ballerinas set in perpetual rotation, fleeting and exquisite in their mysterious beauty. 

Despite the strange beauty of the bonfire, the fact still remai
ned that Ramiel, one of the shrinking number of surviving elders, was gone, his body slowly being consumed by the flames.

Arianna rejoined Desmond
, and he immediately wrapped his hand around hers.  The pad of his thumb brushed her knuckles and he gave a gentle squeeze.  Turning to look at him, she saw that his eyes were fixed on the flames, his expression unreadable.  Beside him, Jason stood, then Dane.  While Desmond and Jason remained stoic, Dane’s eyes were glassy and a pained expression shaped his features.  She squeezed Desmond’s hand hard enough that he glanced at her, and then she nodded toward Dane.  His eyes followed her gesture but when they settled on her frowning face once again, they shot her a look of warning, cautioning her not to involve herself. 

Under ordinary circumstances, she would have found a way to protest nonverbally.  But standing before the funeral pyre of a beloved friend was neither the time nor the place.  She returned her attention to the matter at hand and watched respectfully until all that remained was a mound of ashes sitting atop a stone slab. 

At sight of the mound, Arianna felt as if a heavy weight had been dropped on her chest.  All that Ramiel was, all that he’d done, all that he’d loved, his hopes and dreams, his intentions, all of it had been reduced to a pile of ash.  She began to wonder whether that was the fate of their kind, of every kind of being on the planet, to live and fight through life only to be diminished to dust.  The thought did not inspire much in the way of optimism.

Arianna was about to make her way back to her cabin and ponder the meaning of life with Desmond when a sight stopped her dead in her tracks. 

A pale mist rose from Ramiel’s ashes, undeniable and brilliant, and pulsing with energy of differing shades of blue.  Overhead, in the sky just above Briathos, the air exploded and made Arianna jump for a fraction of a second until she realized that the blast was not an explosion at all.  The air shimmered and glittered, quivering like heat radiating from pavement on an exceptionally hot day.  Light streamed through it and was the purest, brightest light she’d ever seen.  It glowed.  And from it, a faint sound echoed.  It was a melodic song of nature, a bubbling brook, rustling grass on a spring breeze.  It was a hymn of innocence and youth, freedom and trust.  And hope.  Arianna heard the sound of pure peace. 

Pain and loneliness left her momentarily. 
Resentment, loss, fear and doubt melted into the atmosphere in sweet surrender, and the tears she’d barely been keeping at bay no longer ached as they fell from her eyes in heavy drops.

S
lowly, the soft blue mist hovering over Ramiel’s ashes glided toward the light, the color growing deeper as it ascended until it was vibrant cobalt.  When it reached the glowing patch of air, it paused, as if hesitating, and realization skimmed along every inch of her flesh.    She felt her eyes widen and her lips part as the gravity of the moment gripped her.  The shimmering air was a portal to another realm, a heavenly one, and the pulsing blue energy was Ramiel’s soul, pausing only to bid a silent good-bye to his friends.  It had remained in his lifeless body, waiting for this moment.

Arianna sucked in a trembling breath
.  Briathos, in her periphery, regarded the azure mist with a warm smile.  And as he did, the color of the mist grew radiant.  So lustrous was the hue, it nearly matched the glow of the portal before it passed through, merging in a dazzling display of luminosity capable of paling the brightest star.

Then, as quickly as it appeared, both the portal and the blue mist were gone. 
With it went the temporary peace Arianna had felt, the harmony and serenity she’d sought her entire life.  A burst of wind that did not stir the treetops gusted and swept away the ashes.  Ramiel was gone. 

Weight returned to her chest and emotion collected in her throat, clenching it so tightly it hurt to swallow.

“Are you okay, Arianna?” Desmond asked, his voice capturing the heavenly peace she’d felt seconds ago.  He gripped her shoulders as he moved closer, towering over her.  She looked up at him, into eyes an otherworldly shade of blue that matched the sky on a clear day only more crystalline in their clarity.  He was as glorious and golden as sunshine, emitting a light that didn’t differ entirely from the divine glow that had come from the portal.  If massive, feathery wings veined with pearlescent streaks unfurled at his back, she would not flinch. 

“I’m okay,” she said but wasn’t convinced herself. 

He cupped the side of her face and stroked her cheekbone with his thumb.  “Briathos, Sorath and Leo have asked me to meet with them.  I shouldn’t be gone long.  Will you be all right?”

“What are you meeting about?  Is everything okay?  Do they need me too?” she fired her questions in quick succession. 

“Whoa, hold on there,” Desmond said soothingly.  “One question at a time, okay?”

“Sorry,” she said halfheartedly. 
“I just feel like I’m being kept out of the loop, you know?”

“There is no loop right now, none that you’re being kept out of, at least.  I promise,” he assured her.  “To tell you the truth, I have no idea what they want to meet with me about.  Your guess is as good as mine.”

“They must be hurting so badly right now,” she thought aloud. 

“Yes, they are.  Centuries spent together working as a team,” Desmond said and allowed his voice to trail off, his sentence left unfinished.  “Ramiel’s loss will be felt for centuries to come,” he added regretfully.

“I’m sure,” she agreed in the same wistful tone. 

A small silence stretched between them then Arianna spoke.  “You should go.  It looks like everyone is breaking up and going to their cabins.  Go meet with Briathos and the others.”

“I shouldn’t be too long” he said again.  “But if you need me, I can tell them as much and meet with them another time.”

“Don’t be silly.  I’m okay, really.  Seeing a friend burn in a funeral pyre then watching as his soul is welcomed to heaven then his ashes are carried on a breeze intended solely for him happens all the time,” she said and s
watted her hand for effect.  “Old news, really.”

A small smile curved Desmond’s lips.  “You know, I’d always hated sarcasm, thought it was a passive-aggressive, cowardly way of insulting people, until I met you.”

“Thanks for that backhanded compliment,” Arianna said in a singsong voice as she bobbed her head.  Then she realized she was doing it again.  “I can’t stop myself, can I?”

Desmond chuckled.  “I don’t think so.  And that’s fine with me.  I love you and your sarcastic wit.”  He bent and planted a kiss on her forehead, then an
other on her lips.  “I’ll see you later,” he breathed and her body heated and flushed with warmth. 

She watched as he tu
rned and walked away then made her way to where Dane and Jason stood.  While she was approaching, Jason was tapped on the back and pulled into a group of trainees, leaving Dane alone.  As soon as he caught sight of Arianna, he smiled feebly. 

“Hey, Dane, how’re you holding up?” she asked but already knew the answer to her question.  His eyes were red rimmed and his skin was puffy. 

“Ah, you know how it is,” he said cryptically.  “These things are never easy.” He sniffed and brushed errant tears that popped from his eyes.  He cleared his throat.  “Ramiel was cool, you know.  We trained together all the time.  In fact, he was the one who taught me how to concentrate, to focus my energy into a mass that could be used as a weapon,” he added, his voice cracking. 

“Aw Dane,” Arianna said
, her heart aching for him, wishing only to see him smile as he usually did, his deep dimples on full display.  Then without thinking, she rose up onto her tiptoes and wrapped her arms around his neck.  “Let it all out,” she murmured in his ear. 

He lowered his head; his nose grazing the length of her neck, then rested it on her shoulder.  With his hands at her waist, he gripped her shirt and pulled her close, pressing her body to his.  He inhaled deeply and she felt his lips resting near the hollow of her collarbone.  His breaths feathered against the base of her throat, hot and rhythmic. 

Suddenly, Arianna felt that hugging Dane was a bad idea, just as Desmond wordlessly warned her it would be. 

All she could think of was what Desmond had said, that Dane had feelings for her, that everyone knew but her.  Surely, she would know if someone were in love with her, especially if that someone were a person she saw daily. 
The notion that Dane was pining for her and everyone was in on the little secret except her was ridiculous.  She was comforting a friend, and that friend was accepting her comfort.  Period.  End of discussion. 

But when she started to pull away, and Dane
hesitated to release her, the seed of doubt that had been planted started to be cultivated. 

“Hey,” she said.  “You okay?”
  She chewed her lower lip, worried for him in more ways than one.

He released her only slightly and she was able to put a bit of distance between their bodies. 
His eyes sank to her mouth and examined her lip between her teeth before returning to her eyes.  “I’m much better now,” he said, his voice thick and raspy.  “I’m always better when you’re around.”

Arianna dropped her arms and stepped back immediately.  The uneasiness on her face was evident.  And judging from his wilted expression, he saw it as plainly as she felt it.  “Come on, A-bomb.  I didn’t mean it like that,” his voice returned to his usual cadence.  “Don’t start trippin’.  I didn’t mean anything by it.”
  He ran his hands through his hair then rubbed his temples.  “We’re friends, and losing Beth and now Ramiel, and so many others these last few months, I don’t know.  I just said that you make me feel better.  That’s all.  Don’t go reading into it and all.”

Maybe he was telling the truth.  He certainly seemed convinced of what he was saying.  But still, what Desmond suggested niggled at the back of her brain.  Regardless, the desire to pursue a conversation on
e way or the other was nonexistent.  She decided to smooth things over. 

“No worries, Dane. I get it. I’m like a sister to you,” she
forced a self-conscious smile.  “Enough said, okay?”

“You got it, mama,” he replied, but without his usual mischievous spark.

“So what’re you guys doing tonight?  Is everyone getting together or anything, you know, like when people go out to eat after funerals and stuff?” she decided to steer their conversation away from anything potentially embarrassing. 

“Nah, not that I know of, but I am,” he said and jammed both hands in his pockets.  “How about you?”

“Desmond is meeting with Briathos and the others.  I don’t know when he’ll be back.  I guess I’ll just take a shower and turn in early,” she shrugged and said.

Dane brightened
visibly, a half-smile bending one side of his mouth upward.  “I don’t know about you, but I need to get the hell out of here.  Wanna come?  We can get a bite to eat, catch a movie, and maybe have a drink or two, or ten.  Come on, what do you say?”

Sounds like a date
, her brain screamed reflexively.  She felt color rise from her collar and touch her cheeks. “Uh, yeah, I think I’m gonna just, uh, stay in, but thanks, you know, for asking,” she fumbled. 

A
s soon as the words left her lips, a strange expression clouded Dane’s features, and for a moment, Arianna swore she saw hurt flicker within them.  She silently cursed herself for being so awkward.  She didn’t want to hurt Dane, not now, not ever. 

“It’s all good,” he said with a forced smile.  “Guess I’ll just be flyin’ solo tonight.  Catch you later.” He turn
ed from her and strode off, disappearing as she called after him.

“Dane, wait!” she cried, but he was already gone. 

She’d already lost enough people that she cared for.  She was not about to lose Dane too, and all because of some half-baked theory Desmond had cooked up and felt inclined to share with her.  She’d never thought Dane had feelings for her before, but thanks to Desmond, that’s all she could think about when she was around him.  And it was driving her crazy. 

Clenching her hands into fists at her sides, she decided
she was just going to try to put what Desmond had said out of her mind and work at getting things with Dane back to the way they’d been before any talk of crushes and love had been mentioned.

Chapter 7

Smoky liquid, colored a tawny hue, heated Dane’s throat as he swallowed the last drops in the bottle he clutched.  Drinking had never been his thing.  The fact that, as a warlock, attaining a buzz was next to impossible had been a major roadblock.  But he’d tried, on many occasions. 

Getting smashed was an achievable goal for most people his age.  He’d seen enough i
nebriated twenty-something year-olds, some so sloshed they couldn’t form a coherent sentence.  Most others looked down on young adults in that condition.  But he didn’t.  Right now, he’d give just about anything to be like them, to achieve the kind of I’m-so-blotto-I-can’t-feel-a-thing type of drunken state.  He envied those capable of reaching that status. 

Hope still existed, though.  He’d just finished his third magnum of whiskey, and
an odd warmth filled him.  His muscles felt relaxed, and a confused emotion bordering on happiness filled him.  It warred with the anger, with the loneliness, the depression and self-loathing that had set up camp inside him.  And it freed some of his inhibitions. 

“Yo, dude,” he called out to the bartender, a smallish man with red cheeks who sweat profusely.  “Lemme get anoth
er bottle.”  He slapped a fifty-dollar bill onto the bar and rolled his tongue around inside his mouth, wondering why it suddenly felt so big. 

The man ran stubby little fingers that resembled Vienna sausages through his thinning hair.  Dane giggled at the sight and thought the man’s hands and arms looked like Tyrannosaurus Rex limbs.  “Buddy, you’ve knocked back three bottles already.  I should’ve stopped serving you after the first one, but somehow, you’re not in a coma.  Quit while you’re ahead, okay?”

“Awe come on, man.  Just one more, okay?” Dane whined.  “I’m just startin’ to feel all warm and fuzzy.”

Bushy eye
brows shot upward.  “You serious?” he asked.

“Uh-huh.”  Dane bobbed his head, the motion making him pleasantly lightheaded.  He’d have to remember to do
that at least one or two more times during his conversation with the bartender.  “I’ve never been drunk before, not even buzzed.” He shook his head. 

“Are you shittin’ me?” the bartender asked and leaned forearms that looked like ham hocks onto the shiny wood of the bar. 

“No way.  I am not shitting you.  I would never shit you, uh, damn, I don’t even know your name.”

“Collin.  My name’s Collin.”

“Collin!” Dane said with a burst of inexplicable enthusiasm.  “Cool!  Nice to meet you, Collin!  I’m Dane.  And don’t tell anyone, but I love a girl who loves another guy.”

“Is that right?” Collin pressed his lips together sympathetically. 

Collin understood Dane.  He could see it in his chubby little features.  He got it.  And that’s why he was going to sell him another bottle of the brown magic. 

“That ever happen to you, Collin?”

Collin scratched his chin and frowned.  His sadness was enthralling.  Dane’s focus was locked on the portly little man before him.  “Yeah, it has,” he admitted. 

“Fuck, man, that sucks,” Dane blurted, feeling as if they were old friends.  “What was her name?”

“Erin, my ex-wife,” Collin said tightly. 

It took Dane a moment to make the connection.  But once he understood that Collin’s wife loved someone else that wasn’t her husband
, it clicked.  “No, Collin, no!  Really?  That’s awful!” 

“Yeah, it is pretty awful.”  Co
llin ran a hand down his face.  His brown eyes were glazed with hurt, a hurt Dane was familiar with. 

“I’m sorry,” Dane said somberly.

“Me too,” Collin cleared his throat and replied before turning away from Dane and disappearing.  He reappeared a few seconds later with a fresh bottle of whiskey.  “Here,” he said and plunked it down on the counter.  He swiped the cash and returned with change, more change than there should have been.

Counting it cursorily, Dane said, “Whoa, I think you counted wrong.  There’s too much—” he started, but Collin cut him off.

“I gave you the
friends and family
discount.”

“Gotcha,” Dane said.  “Well then, get a glass.  Have some.”

“Thanks, but maybe another time.” He tapped a thick hand against the bar.  “I gotta clean up and close up.  When I’m done, you’re done, got it?”

His words were firm but his tone left room for negotiation, Dane was sure of it.  “You got it, boss.  And thanks.” 

“Don’t mention it,” Collin replied and met his gaze.  “Just remember, when I’m out so are you.  You seem like an okay kid. I still don’t get how you’re not in a coma right now, but whatever.  Maybe it’s a metabolic thing one of those talk-show doctors will feature one day.  Regardless, I don’t wanna have to call the police to get you out of here.”

“You won’t have to,” Dane assured and watched as Collin lumbered out of sight to wipe down tables and put up chairs. 

Left alone, Dane twisted the cap off the liquor, breaking the seal, and brought it to his lips.  Earthy, oaky notes mingled with the strong smell of alcohol as the russet-hued liquid trickled into his mouth and blazed a trail of fire down his esophagus.  The burn, unpleasant initially, had become far more tolerable, especially since he was feeling looser and more sociable.  Anxiety and frustration seeped from his pores and seemed to vanish into thin air.  If three bottles had made him feel that good, another couple would make him feel even better. 

Tipping the bottle and angling it so that more of its contents tumbled from it quicker, Dane gulped greedily in hopes of drowning the negative chatter in his brain.  He kept an eye on Collin, monitoring his progress and hoping that all the wheezing as he worked would slow him.  Dane wasn’t ready to leave yet. 

His bottle was half-empty and the strange urge to hug Collin had been nagging his brain for several moments when, from the corner of his eye, Dane swore he saw movement near the entrance of the bar, though the refresh rate of his sight was impaired considerably, a kind of vision delay that made him blink several times. 

When Collin hollered, “We’re closed!” at
whoever had entered, he felt a degree of relief that he wasn’t seeing things.

“Yeah, we’re closed,” he echoed inarticulately. 

A familiar voice replied, “I don’t want any trouble.  I’m here for him.”

Dane spun on his barstool, the act making the room spin long after the stool stopped.  “Well look at that handsome devil,” he said when he saw his identical twin brother.  “Jason!  How the hell are you? Come here and sit.  Wanna drink?” he shoved his bottle toward Jason. 

His brother crinkled his nose.  “No thanks,” he said and raised a hand.  Then his eyebrows lowered and his eyes got squinty.  “What are you still doing here, Dane?  It’s two-thirty in the morning.”

“I was supposed to close up a half-hour ago,” Collin chimed in from across the room.

“C’mon, Collin!  I thought we were friends,” Dane said and leaned past Jason to see the bartender. “I’m offended.  I hope you’re happy.  You’ve hurt my feelings.”

“Dane!” Jason huffed crossly. 

“What?”

Jason sucked in his cheeks and looked so much like their father Dane felt compelled to point and laugh.  “You look just like Dad when you’re mad,” he chuckled. 

His brother rubbed his forehead and sighed.  Then in a calmer tone said, “Dane, what’re you doing here so late.”

“I was pissed and couldn’t sleep.  I thought a few drinks would help,” he said and tried to keep his body from wobbling from side to side as the warm
th and relaxation he’d felt earlier was replaced by a clumsier, less eloquent looseness. 

“Look, I know you’re upset about what happened.  We’re all hurting.  All of us lost friends today,” Jason said quietly. 

“Death in the family?” Collin had stopped sweeping and practically stood shoulder-to-shoulder with Jason. 

Dane bobbed his head solemnly and Jason shot him a stern look of warning. 

“Would you mind giving us a minute?” he politely asked Collin.

“Sure.  No problem.  It’s only my bar,” Collin replied sarcastically as he shuffled toward a cluster of tables.  He turned on a television mounted high in the corner, the voice of a sports commentator filling the space with talk of
statistics and game highlights.  

“I was the one who got Ramiel killed.  He was my friend, and I got him killed,” Dane concentrated hard to maintain eye contact with his brother.  “Me,” he jabbed his thumb into his chest.  “Not you.”

“Dane, they were waiting for us.  Don’t get me wrong, you shouldn’t have rushed out but we were going to have to faceoff with them one way or another.  What you did just, I don’t know, sped the process.”

“Huh, yeah right,” Dane commented bitterly.  The insulating haze he’d enjoyed was suddenly seared
with scalding oil.  “We coulda come up with a plan, a strategy, like we always do.  But I screwed everyone.  And he’s dead because of me.”

“No one is blaming you, so stop blaming yourself,” Jason said definitively.  “You’ve been in battles where lives were lost and never reacted this way.  You never went out of your way to get all sloppy and drunk.  What’s different now?  What’s really going on?  It’s Arianna, isn’t it?”

His brother, as always, stared down his self-righteous little nose at him, just like another person he knew did.  Jason and Desmond were a pair of Boy Scouts. 

Dane defiantly gripped the bottle in one hand and raised it.  “Here’s to sloppy drunks,” he said.  He then lifted it to his mouth and took a long swig.

“Come on, Dane, enough! Stop being an ass and let’s go,” he said. 

“I’m not goin’ anywhere ya bossy jerk,” he said and gave his brother a shove. 

Jason’s nostrils flared and his gaze hardened.  “I’m warning you.  Don’t push me again,” he threatened through his teeth. 

“Ooh, you scare me,” he taunted.  “Don’t get your lady parts in a ruffle, Jay.  Sit your prissy ass down and have a drink with me.”  Jason’s face had reddened and his lips parted, about to blow a fuse.  But Dane knew his brother wouldn’t make a scene in front of a stranger; not his morally upright twin.  “Hey, yo Collin!” he bellowed to the bartender and flailed his arms.  “Lemme get another bottle, ‘kay?”