Blood of the Pure (Gaea) (17 page)

“And what about ... demons?” I asked, fearing I might reveal too much. “Can they also be evoked through Magic?”

“Oh, that’s even more complicated. Both evoking and banishing. Those kinds of rituals are all practically lost, and thank God. As far as I know, only secret societies still keep that kind of thing in their archived books. In the old days Humans used to evoke demons and used them to do their bidding. In exchange for a life of luxury and riches, they’d pledge their Soul, or their remaining lifetime. These were exchanges that might seem profitable, in a short term, but that ended up condemning the summoner to an eternal damnation. It is said that a Soul marked through a Contract with a demon is forever excluded from the eternal cycle of death and rebirth. Its eternity, as a Soul, becomes that demon’s property. When you see it like that, it doesn’t sound like such a good deal anymore, don’t you agree? As it seems, people started to think like that, too, and that’s why most demonic evocations were eradicated from the practice of Magic.”

“But even so, they cross to our world,” I supposed.

“Sure. Because unlike other minor entities, those we know as demons have their own Magic, one much stronger and powerful than that of any Human Being. They have the ability to open the dimensional gates and walk between dimensions. The only entities equal to them are the angels.”

Angels! The word crashed against my brain in the sudden revelation of something that had always been right there, before my eyes.

I’d never even considered possible the existence of angels and the image of the statues that adorned the school’s chapel came into my mind. But wasn’t it logical? If evil things like him existed, why couldn’t there be others, similar, but good?

“And angels? Can we also evoke them?” I asked with a ray of hope and he laughed lightly.

“Yes and no. Evoke, one can evoke. If they’ll listen and obey the evocation, that’s an entire different matter. Apparently, unlike demons, angels have no interest in direct contact with Human Beings, rather preferring to protect us at a distance. I suppose that’s why angelic evocations are rare, even as part of the ancient Magic, unlike the demonic ones.”

I carefully committed all he’d told me to memory. I’d assumed, as a starting point, that Gabriel was a demon. I didn’t know if it was correct to define him according to such ancient stereotype. However, after much research about creatures and magical beings, I had no other way to classify him. After all, what else could he be? And, if I was willing to accept the existence of demons, I might as well accept that angels existed, too.

When I left the small store with my heavy book, which allegedly could not contain any kind of dangerous spells such as evocations, it was late, and night ruled over the world. I tucked the coat around my neck and grumbled against the thin stockings that allowed the cold wind to freeze my legs.

Being used to him arriving after I’d already gone to bed, I didn’t even think twice before I turned the key to the front door. However, as soon as I opened it, a delicious smell greeted me at the entrance, making me immediately nervous. Of all the nights, he’d chosen that one to arrive earlier.

I closed the door and went to the kitchen, my steps as silent as possible, peering inside.

I was stunned for a moment. He was cooking. There was a pot on the stove, fuming and filling the air with that delicious smell. Over the kitchen counter there was a series of ingredients and, in the sink, a receptacle with some washed vegetables. Lea was close by, rubbing his black head against his heels in a cautious circle that allowed him to run from Gabriel’s feet every time he moved from his place.

“So? Did you find what you were looking for?” he asked me in a seemingly indifferent tone, not even turning to look at me, and continued chopping a carrot into thin slices.

I didn’t know what to answer, my heart beating against my chest. He put down the knife for a moment and went to the stove to stir what was cooking inside the pot. Something sautéed, I thought, certain that it took tomato and onions.

Trying to reinforce my self-confidence, I told myself I could do whatever I pleased and had no obligation to give him any satisfaction.

“And what could that be?” I asked, raising my head, and he took the pot from the stove. I followed his calm and precise movements with some fascination, while he put the raw vegetables in the smoking pot.

“A way to Seal me again, right?”

I stood silent, once more. There was nothing in his voice, no shadow of anger or displeasure. He spoke in the same casual way he used to discuss musical genres with Joe. Did that mean he was sure there was no way to do it? Was he that confident in his abilities, or better yet, in my inability to do it?

“I never hoped to find anything like that,” I replied abrasively. I’d learned that only anger and fury could help me overcome the irrational fear I felt in his presence, and I welcomed them. “It’s just that ... there’s too many things I don’t understand.”

“There’s nothing you need to understand. I’ve already told you. All you need to know are the terms of our Contract.” He put the pot back over the blue flame.

“That’s your opinion!” I retorted brusquely and for a moment all that could be heard was the sound of something boiling.

“And? What did that Human tell you about me?” he finally asked.

Suddenly, the implications of those questions hit me and I couldn’t help stare at him in outrage.

“Did you follow me?” I asked under my breath and he turned off the stove, placing the pot on the table where I noticed for the first time he’d already set two places, meaning we would have dinner together.

I saw him grab a few lettuce leaves, rolling them and cutting them into thin slices, and couldn’t help stare at the graceful but firm movements of his pale fingers. I asked myself what would happen if he cut himself. If the knife would simply slide over his skin without leaving a mark. Or, if like all Human Beings, he would bleed, and if his blood would be the same color as mine.

“Of course,” he answered calmly. “It’s too dangerous for you to leave Lewisham on your own.” His matter-of-fact tone only made me angrier.

“What do you mean dangerous?” He stopped what he was doing and turned to face me for the first time since I’d arrived. I instinctively hugged the bag carrying the heavy book as if it could protect me.

“It’s dangerous. That should be enough.” And he went back to slicing lettuce leaves. Then he placed the bowl on the table, opened the fridge, and took out the peach juice I normally drank.

“What’s that...?” I asked in a low tone, as my initial courage quickly slipped away, and he followed my gaze towards the pot.

“Dinner,” he simply answered and went around the table to pass as far as possible from me and take his place. “You eating? Or are you just going to stand there and think I’m trying to poison you like last time?”

I recalled the baked fish he’d cooked for Rachel and me and how delicious it had been, regardless of my distrust. My mouth watered before that delicious smell and, unwilling to do so, but wishing to prove him wrong, I took my place at the table on the opposite side of his. I placed the heavy bag on the floor, next to my chair, and Lea sniffed at it curiously, his bell ringing softly.

“I’m the one who should try to poison you,” I grumbled between clenched teeth, and he laughed.

“True. Can’t even imagine why you still haven’t tried.”

“Would it work?”

“Probably not in what you’re expecting.” I lowered my head and clenched the tablecloth under the table.

In the last few days I’d started to notice that, in truth, he normally avoided coming too close to me or looking me in the eye. Just like he did now, fixing his gaze on the empty glass in front of him. It was a behavior that I couldn’t help appreciate, since it made my life much easier. But it also meant many other things that I really didn’t want to have to think about. It meant he knew fully well the devastating effect his presence had on me, and that either he resented it or he felt sorry for me. And that he worried enough to try and spare me, a thought that greatly bothered me.

To erase those ideas from my head I reached a brave hand towards the pot and filled my plate — sautéed vegetables in tomato and onions with small pasta bows. Then I unceremoniously attacked the salad and drove a forkful into my mouth. It was annoyingly delicious.

He smiled almost imperceptibly, avoiding having to face me, and mimicked me with much slower and planned gestures. As I saw his long fingers flexing around the spoon handle, I couldn’t help noticing how, since that terrifying night, his every movement had become unusually slow and calculated. Even his steps, when we walked to school, were all taken carefully. Now that I thought about it, he even looked slower than the rest of us, Humans. Of course, the difference was easily masked by his height, making our Human minds believe that it was normal that such a tall body should move slower than the rest.

The food in my mouth became suddenly bitter. That was also because of me, wasn’t it? Because I’d fall into a terrified frenzy every time he made a more abrupt gesture. Because my fear ran deep and was irrational to the point I completely lost control over my body, becoming unable to move, breathe or even think.

“And? What did he tell you about me?” he insisted, resuming our previous conversation in a neutral tone that showed neither curiosity nor displease, and I looked at him for a moment, watching as he ate.

“We talked about the different types of Magic,” I replied, unwilling to give him a straight answer, and he kept silent as if waiting for me to go on. “Does it bother you that much what he might have said?”

“No. Just curious,” He answered shrugging.

“Curious,” I whispered. Did he really feel those things? Or simply used the words he knew to be more appropriate according to the situation? “He told me the book was not supposed to contain any evocations.” I tried to take advantage of the moment to gather more information.

“True.”

“Then why?” I questioned, completely forgetting about my food.

“Do you always need reasons for everything?” he asked, looking at me from under his dark eyelashes so he wouldn’t have to raise his head. My hand shook, making the fork tinkle against the plate.

“Of course,” I answered, my voice breaking down. “You would, too, if you didn’t know the answers. Knowing the reasons behind the facts helps us accept them.”

“Accept?” he asked sounding surprised. “Is that what you want?”

“I want to understand. I need to understand! Why me!”

He stood quiet and lowered his gaze once again. He filled his fork and chewed slowly, savoring the food. I waited unmoving.

“There are many questions for which I have no answers.” His voice was lower than usual, almost as if he was sharing a secret. “However, I’ve never worried about it. I’m only interested in things I can control. What’s the use of knowing all the answers when there’s nothing you can do about it?”

Annoyingly, I understood his logic. He was right. Knowing why he was there, why was that evocation in my book, why it had to be me reading it and not someone else. None of those answers could help me in any way.

“That’s your way of thinking. We think differently,” I stubbornly stated and he stopped chewing for a moment. I knew exactly why. Those words had also struck something deep inside me. It had been the first time I’d admitted in front of him that he wasn’t like us, that he wasn’t a Human Being.

“All right,” he conceded, putting down the fork, and placed an elbow on the table leaning his head on his hand. Lea’s bell sounded through the kitchen and the little kitten swiftly jumped onto his lap, becoming the center of his attention. “The answer to your question can be given in different levels.” He softly caressed Lea’s ears and the cat purred, closing his eyes. “Why was an evocation in a book where it shouldn’t be? Simple. Because someone sacrificed himself in order to be so. The book must have been the closest object doted of some power. Thus, the words ended up being inscribed on its pages. The page you read was probably the one where it was opened at that precise moment.”

“Sacrificed?” I muttered in an almost inaudible tone, my mind filled with bloody rituals from stories.

“You have nothing to worry about. The sacrifice was from one of our own.” His voice sounded ragged for a moment, conveying a grief that I’d never thought he’d be able to feel, much less express. “He was a ... companion. If not for him I’d be forever ...” He suddenly grew silent and looked at Lea, who watched him seriously, appearing to empathize with his words. Gabriel smiled softly and went back to caressing his pointy ears. “If you want to know why you decided to read that spell and not any other, you may as well say it was a random thing. Or you can blame it on the selfishness of your feelings. Or on the skepticism of your mind that told you that nothing would happen. Or on the faith of your heart that desired it would work.”

“In other words, the responsibility is mine,” I concluded, voicing the words I repeated daily, and he smiled sarcastically.

“Why? Did you think you were just a poor innocent victim blameless for the situation you’re in?”

“No. I know it very well that I’m the only one responsible for your presence here,” I admitted and his hand went still again. Maybe he hadn’t expected me to state it so clearly, but I’d long given up making up excuses and trying to run away from reality. “It wasn’t easy to accept, but I can hardly deny it.”