Chapter 14: A Dove’s Flight

When I got home, I collapsed into bed without even bothering to take my clothes off. My feet dangling off the edge of the bed, I managed to kick my shoes off without getting up.

Hannya and I… We’d never shared a romance. The two of us were far too long gone for something pure like that. What we did have was a sort of… centuries-long, unspoken agreement for mutual comfort. In the end, whenever we did spend time together, it only made the emptiness stronger inside. I couldn’t help but reflect on that as I lay in bed, while contrasting it against Zophie’s inexplicable warmth.

I wanted to say that I regretted killing her, that such violence was unnecessary. But Hannya’s nature was jealousy. She threatened to kill Zophie, and I knew she meant it. There would have been no reconciliation.

Now, Michael would know something was up. As much as I wanted to keep some degree of alone time – my unpolished social skills needing time to recover – I’d tell Zophie to move in with me here. For someone like me, who’d spent literal centuries alone, everything was progressing way too fast. But I had no choice if I wanted to protect Zophie.

Right now, she was alone at her apartment. Just the thought of that made me uncomfortable, my exhausted body restlessly squirming in bed. I knew she’d be fine at least for tonight. Hannya’s demise wouldn’t reach Michael for some time— not until she failed to meet him in the morning.

With those uncomfortable thoughts racing through my head, sleep came in fits and bursts. I suspected the only reason I could sleep at all was because of how much spiritual essence I’d used up during the earlier battle. Here, in my domain and the heart of my territory, I’d recover faster, but it still felt like the shadows around me were sluggish to respond.

When the first rays of sun began to peek around the edges of my blackout curtains, I got up. Still wearing the clothes I had on yesterday, I began making my trek back to Zophie’s place. She’d probably be surprised to see me there first thing in the morning, rather than the other way around, but she’d need my help packing up all her stuff and moving to my apartment.

Throwing my shoes on from yesterday, I quickly made my way out into the living room. Idly, I took a moment to scan the area for any kind of packing materials, but I quickly realized just how empty my apartment was. I didn’t keep anything if I could help it, except for the absolute necessities and my weights. Though, there was the old box that had the VCH and TV in it before. I emptied out the rest of the tapes in there and grabbed the empty box.

Shaking my head, I made to leave the apartment, locking up on the way out. From there, the walk to Zophie’s place was about twenty minutes. By that time, the sun had risen fully past the horizon, the mortals bustling about as the day truly began.

I hadn’t run into Zophie on the way here, and I didn’t see her leaving the apartment as it was now. My heart pounded at the thought; she’d be the type to get up as early as possible to come to my place. Not only that, but remembering how disappointed she was yesterday when we separated… I knew she’d be eager to see me today. Precisely because of that, I felt cool dread pooling at the bottom of my gut: why hadn’t she gotten up yet?

Sprinting forward, I took the stairs to the third story two at a time. When I made it to the top, my breath came heavier, but I didn’t let that stop me from running down the balcony walkway as fast as I could.

When I reached her door, I didn’t hesitate to slam my fists on the door, banging it harshly. Not one to wait, I began pulling the shadows toward me, about to bypass the door. She could be in danger right this second, or maybe something horrific had already happened to her. My pulse thrummed in my ears as I fought through the spiritual drain from last night while also having to combat the daylight. I regretted leaving her alone, just so I could selfishly have some time to myself.

Just as I’d gathered enough shadows to phase through the door, it opened with a wide swing. Zophie’s bright, strawberry blonde hair reflected the sunlight coming through her apartment like an ethereal glow, and she looked up at me with a welcoming, but surprised, smile.

“Woah! How are you doing that?” she questioned, and for a second, I had to figure out what she was asking, my initial reaction of intense relief almost making me miss her question.

Then I dropped my hold of the shadows, the drain immediately easing on my sore spiritual muscles, while making the area around me return to normal. “Uh, magic trick,” I recovered inelegantly.

“That’s awesome!” She leaned in toward me with clear excitement. “Can you teach me sometime?”

“No.”

She pouted.

“Magicians never tell their secrets; it ruins the trick.” It’s a good thing I’d eaten the sins of more than my fair share of scam artists.

She seemed to buy that explanation, so quick to trust as she was. I didn’t know what I would have done if my true nature had been exposed. Though, knowing her, maybe she wouldn’t care.

She continued to look at me skeptically. “I bet it has something to do with that box you’re holding,” she said leadingly, but I didn’t respond.

“Oh fine, come in! It’s rare to see you up by yourself in the morning.” She gave me a quick hug around the box before walking further into her apartment.

Stepping through the doorway, I began to take in my surroundings. Surprisingly, like my own apartment, she barely had any stuff. Sure, she had the basics in the kitchen, but other than that, she just had a sleeping futon and blanket pair. It looked like it was a studio apartment, and quite small at that— just barely enough for the kitchen and living room combined space, with two open doors leading to a tiny bathroom and shelved closet.

But, where she lacked in furniture and entertainment, she made up for in decoration. All of her white alabaster walls had been painted with images of white feathered doves among the clouds, rainbows, and vast rolling blue skies. More than one intricate image of the sun had been drawn to perfecting detail on the ceiling, too. In one corner lay a painting tarp with brushes and pint-sized buckets of paint. The image above it had a half-formed painting of a white dove and black crow swirling upward through the sky in a twisting dance.

“Oh, don’t touch that wall,” Zophie warned, seeing where my eyes had landed. “The paint is still drying.”

“What’s it supposed to mean?” I had my own suspicions, but I wanted to hear it from her.

“That? Well, it’s just something I dreamed about last night,” she said, barely paying it any mind.

“Hmm.”

“Let me just get on my jacket, and then we can head to your place! Or maybe you wanna go out again today?”

“No. Actually, I wanted you to leave this apartment and move into mine.”

She turned to look at me, stopping dead in her tracks. Her face flushed bright pink before she meekly said, “That’s so… forward.” She paused. “Not that I’m unhappy or anything!” she hurried to correct herself, waving her hands frantically. “It’s just… unexpected, is all.”

“Do you have to worry about the rental contract or anything?” I was eager to get her out of here, and she hadn’t given me a no.

Shaking her head, she replied, “Nope. We pay weekly here. I can move out anytime. Though…” she winced. “Since I’ve painted the walls, I bet I won’t get my deposit back.”

“That’s fine. Let’s pack up your stuff and get going.”

“What? Right now?” she hesitated. Then, everything seemed to come together for her, realization dawning upon her face. “Oh, this is about Michael, isn’t it,” she stated more than asked.

“No, Zophie,” I was quick to deny. “This is about you. This is about me wanting to be there to protect you.”

“I thought you needed occasional alone time?”

“We can work that out later. Right now, you’re in danger, and I want to fix that.”

“Um. Okay.” She really did trust me; we’d barely known each other a week, and she was already fine with moving in together— outside forces or not. I’d had the thought before, but I couldn’t believe her naivety hadn’t caused something horrible to happen to her in the past. Nothing like that would happen now.

She hurried to grab her things: a sad-looking pile of clothes in the corner, no more than an armful. She picked up her paints as well, careful to wrap them in the tarp and store them properly. Easily managing to fit everything into the box I’d brought, I hefted it up to carry it out.

I had more money than I knew what to do with; she could paint as much as she wanted, buy new clothes, or generally do whatever she wanted from here on out.

When we left her apartment, she turned around to take in her previous home for the last time with a wistful sigh. “It sounds bad, but, I don’t think I’ll miss it.”