Tempus (50 page)
He greeted Mom similarly, and they exchanged brief pleasantries. I looked up at the house while they talked; my eyes were drawn to the third floor window. It was open, and white curtains were dancing in the breeze. I couldn’t see behind them, but I kept imagining someone was there. I wondered if I could reach out to them, see who they were. I could feel them trying to block me, trying to protect themselves, maybe. Interesting. It made me nosey.
“Jessie!” Moms voice broke in, “You coming or not?”
She and Mr. Knight were standing at the open door, waiting for me. I climbed the stairs quickly and stepped inside. Everything about it felt familiar, the look, the feel, even the smell. I breathed in deeply. There was an underlying scent, barely detectable, but my heart sped up by a fraction. I stopped, stood perfectly still.
“What is it, dear?” Mr. Knight asked, looking at me intently.
“I don’t know yet.” My eyes were scanning the vestibule, the stairs, and the arched doorways to the other rooms. It was beautiful, but that wasn’t what I was looking for.
“She’s very sensitive to—things. I’ve never seen anything like it.” Mom offered. “Jessie, let’s go upstairs so you can see what I plan to buy you. If you like it, we’ll come pick it up later.”
Trying to distract me
, I thought.
“Who is here?” I asked, undeterred.
“Jessie, that’s rude.” She took my elbow. “Come upstairs.”
Mr. Knight led the way, Mom whispering in my ear to get a grip and not embarrass her. She said Mr. Knight was an ‘important man,’ whatever that meant. I bet he was an observer. Didn’t seem like an interceptor. He was
something
, though.
At the top of the landing, he turned to the right toward an open door. I looked ahead and beyond, to a different door, barely noticeable. I felt pulled there, but I followed Mom instead, my eyes glancing back until we were entirely inside what was obviously the library.
I took in the surroundings in a quick glance, noticed the angle of the desk, the globe on its’ corner, the stacks of books. I turned slowly. Bookcase, bookcase, Chair, chair, chair, window, bookcase—
Mirror
!
It was a 19th Century French Louis XVI Cheval Mirror. It had a beautiful green patina with various gold highlights. Fluted columns rising from the feet held the full-length oval mirror in place. The glass had lovely beadwork trim and a bouquet crown. This was
exactly
the mirror I had been wanting for my room. Well, it wasn’t this exact one before I saw it, but
now
it was.
The glass was perfect, no dark spots. I wouldn’t feel a thing through this one. No weird numb or tingly places for half an hour after using it. It didn’t hurt that it was gorgeous. I was holding my breath, eyes dancing over it.
Mr. Knight stepped up beside me. “I take it you are pleased?”
“
This
is what Mom is buying?” I asked, awestruck.
“It is. It’s a very
special
mirror, I assure you.” Uh oh, sounded like he was asking too much for it.
“I wouldn’t say I was buying it as much as I would say I’m
stealing
it.” Mom laughed.
Well, Mom knew her stuff, and if she claimed she was stealing it, she probably was. I reached out slowly, noticing a hum the closer my hand came to the surface. That was unusual, but not unheard of. He was right; there was something special about it.
I looked at myself in the glass. I had learned to focus on the surface, or below, with the same ease. It was just a matter of deciding which you wanted to see before you looked. I didn’t want to look below yet.
“We’ll take it.” Mom laughed, watching my reactions with delight.
“Jessie?” Mr. Knight asked.
“Absolutely. It was meant to be mine.” I knew the words would have sounded odd to others, but not to the three of us.
Four.
“Who is here?” I asked him again, this time turning to look into his eyes. “I feel him up there.” I glanced at the ceiling.
“How do you know it’s a him?”
I just gave him an ‘oh, please’ look. Mom said, “I told you she was sensitive. She could find out without asking, if she decided to.”
“I know.” He replied.
Mom and I both looked at him, and I froze for a moment,
feeling
. That response was a surprise, and we both were suspicious for a moment. I sensed nothing bad from him though. As a rule, I was extremely good at picking that up, even from a distance.
I narrowed my eyes at Mr. Knight.
Thomas
. He was keeping something from me, but it wasn’t bad, I could tell. “Thomas.” I said.
He smiled a blindingly brilliant smile. “Yes, Jessie?”
Mom looked at me. “What?”
I could hear the most beautiful voice in my head.
Ezekiel Thomas Knight the
third.
My eyes widened. I looked around the room.
Remember me
. I looked up at the ceiling. There was no sound, but I felt the pull, soft and gentle.
A thousand times eternity.
My heart raced, pounded. I looked at Mr. Knight. “I
know
you.”
“I know
you
.” He echoed.
“What?” My mom was completely lost.
I walked to the library door, stepped out, looked at
that
door. I heard my mom ask what was going on. I heard Mr. Knight reassure her. I heard the words ‘where she’s supposed to be’ as I slipped quietly through the slightly open doorway, to the flight of stairs.
I climbed slowly, feeling that build of energy, the pull growing stronger with every step up. I stopped at the top, just outside the door. I could feel him on the other side, but not close.
Away
, near the window. The window with the curtains.
I pushed the door with my hand – I had learned to control the glimpses long ago. I suppressed them now, though I could feel them, like little moths bumping against glass trying to reach light. I ignored them, swinging the door open.
I looked to the right, paying no heed to the eerily familiar room.
He was standing with his back to me, outlined by the sunlight coming through the open window. The breeze lifted his black hair off his neck in little waves.
I envied the breeze
.
I didn’t say a word. I watched him breath, in and out. I knew those shoulders. I stood at the door and held up one hand, let myself reach out, let my energy cross the distance, and touch the back of his neck. He trembled, but did not turn around.
I caressed his cheek, recognizing the feel of it. I touched his shoulder, felt his bicep, the hollow at the elbow, the knobby bone at the wrist, the palm, and the fingers. I reached back up to his chin, tried to turn his face toward mine. He complied.
I was afraid to look.
I closed my eyes and waited until I could feel him facing me. I pulled him, made him come closer. Soon I could feel his energy touching mine, inches away. I recognized it; I knew the feel of it. I could smell his scent, almost taste it. I breathed in deeply, letting it surround me until it hurt to keep my eyes closed. I felt the tears form and slide from under my lashes.
“If tears of sorrow are the echoes of things lost, what then are tears of joy?” His voice became a whisper. “Open your eyes,
Jessie
.”
I opened them slowly, and was looking into the most beautiful blue eyes I had ever seen. The light from the window was like a halo around his head.
Archangel
.
The name escaped my lips like a prayer, in wonder and awe. “
Gabriel
.”
Finis
The second book in this series, ARCANUS, is in progress and information will be made available on my website prior to publishing.
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