4. Asa

CHAPTER 4

Asa

S he’s real.

She’s real and she’s here.

All these years I thought I made her up, that she only existed in my subconscious, she only came to life in my dreams, but she’s truer than anything and anyone I’ve ever seen before.

I don’t know what to make of the information. I don’t know what to tell her, if anything. She doesn’t remember me. Of course she doesn’t. She’s never met me. And yet, I know her inside out, I know her deepest, darkest thoughts she hasn’t shared with anyone before and every inch of her body like it’s my own. But is what I know about her even accurate?

Just because she’s real doesn’t mean the life we’ve lived is. It doesn’t mean the person I see every time I go to sleep is the same person that just walked into our town.

My heart aches leaving her behind at Red’s even though I know she’ll be safe there. It doesn’t matter because I want to be there for her, with her, to get to know her, to find out just how much of a stranger she really is.

For the first time since I can remember, when I fly away toward St. Martin’s church, toward my dream world, I do it with a heavy heart. I don’t want to be with her in my dreams when I can just be with her in real life. But I don’t have a choice. I never do.

The sky turns into hues of orange and red as I perch on my spot in the roof and every part of me solidifies. It starts at the tips of my toes traveling up my body, a fast process that feels like slow torture in this moment. It leaves my eyes for last and I do what any cursed man would. I look toward her, toward Red’s, hoping I’ll catch one last glimpse of her somehow before I fall into my usual slumber.

Darkness claims me, flooding my vision and other senses. My heart flutters as I wait for familiar faces to appear before me, for my wife to kiss me good morning and start our day. Just because I’d rather be with the real Sapphire doesn’t mean I don’t want to be with the family of my dreams for the last twenty years.

However, when the light reaches my eyes and I blink, I’m not in our little cottage by the woods, the place I built with my bare hands while my Sapphie was pregnant with our Celestite. Nor am I lying next to her in our large custom bed that’s built to last.

No.

I find myself in a mid modern century room with a four-poster bed and crimson curtains draped around it that glow when the light from the windows reaches them.

Sapphire is sitting on the mattress with one towel wrapped around her hair and one around her body. A small device is nestled in her hands with a thin cord plugged into the outlet beside her.

She shakes it, mumbling a number of expletives and I take a step toward her.

“Are you okay?” I ask, but she doesn’t even acknowledge me. “Sapphire?”

Nothing again.

Strange.

Why isn’t she talking to me? What kind of weird dream is this? I always go back to our home, back to the bed we share. I’ve never dreamt of this place.

I reach out to get her attention when I notice my hand. It’s transparent. Ghostly even.

What the hell? What happened to me?

“Sapphie! Sapphire!”

My calls go unanswered and then there’s a knock on the door and Esme walks in with a tray of hot coffee and a bowl of oatmeal with fruits laid out in a beautiful pattern.

“Did you settle in okay, dear? Was the water hot?” she asks Sapphie.

“Oh it was great. Thank you. Very much needed. What is all this?” Sapphie puts her device down, noticing the tray.

“You’ve had a long night, dear. I thought you’d appreciate some breakfast.”

Wait a minute. Wait a damn minute.

This isn’t a dream. I’m not dead. This is real life. This is the same Sapphire I just dropped off at Esme’s. This is what’s happening now.

But where is my body? Why am I in ghost form? Why can’t she hear or see me? Even if I was dead, she’s a witch, she should be able to see me. All witches can commune with spirits.

“You’re too kind, Esme. Thank you so much.”

“No such thing, dear. Kindness is the only thing that’ll save us in the end. Mark my words.” Esme chuckles and retreats back toward the door. “Let me know if there’s anything else you need.”

“Oh! Would you…I don’t have any clean clothes. Would you have something I could wear so I can go out to town to get a new outfit?”

Esme’s eyes light up and she excuses herself so I have the perfect opportunity to focus on Sapphie. Who goes on to completely ignore me like before.

I can’t even touch her to get her attention and soon enough Esme is back and hands Sapphire a cute little blue dress.

When she’s alone again, she walks up in front of the mirror and tugs the towel around her body loose. As if on instinct, I turn my back on her before I catch a glimpse of her body. I know I’ve seen her naked a million times, felt her under me, around me countless times, but she doesn’t know I’m even here, let alone know who I am so the least I can do is give her her privacy.

It doesn’t mean my courtesy isn’t sheer torture though. To be so close to the real Sapphire, to have her within reach and not be able to touch her, to kiss her, to be with her? This is starting to feel like a nightmare.

After a couple of minutes, she stops shuffling and I decide to stop being dramatic and dare take a peak. My breath simply…stops.

She’s as incredible as she’s always been. As stunning as I’ve come to know her. The blue of the dress only brings out the color of her eyes and makes her blonde hair appear like the perfect little damp halo around her face.

There’s nothing I want more than to grab her by the waist, gaze into her wonderful abyss and tell her I love her.

Seeing as I can’t do any of that, I just watch her dry her hair, apply some light make-up, and check herself out in the mirror.

I practically hold my breath the whole time. Until she turns to look at her back and I catch sight of her left shoulder. At the same time, as if she can feel my gaze, she traces her fingers over it, over the little dark patch shaped like a wing and she bites her lip.

Her birthmark.

It ’s real too.

She is my soulmate. All Graywing mates are born with it. I didn’t imagine it. She has it. She really has it.

“Hm…cute,” she whispers as she takes one last look at her outfit, pick up her bag and goes out into town.

Without needing to follow her, I’m pulled toward her everywhere she goes, no matter what obstacle comes my way, be it a door, a wall, or a rose bush. It’s as if I’m her very own guardian angel.

She reaches the sidewalk and looks both ways. I wish I could tell her to go right, that it’s where she’ll find Main Street and all the stores she needs to replenish her wardrobe, but she can’t hear or feel me.

Instead of picking a direction though, she digs her hand into her purse and takes out a small watch. She stares at it a little longer than expected and I lean in closer only to realize it’s not a watch at all, but a compass.

An erratic compass. The needle is going around in circles as if it has no idea which way is north.

“Figures,” she sighs, shakes her head and shoves it back in her purse.

When she looks up again it’s as if she’s staring right at me. It takes me by surprise and I barely manage to smile at her before she turns right and starts walking.

I choke down the disappointment and follow along. Soon enough we’re at Main Street where the residents are gathered in small groups. Everyone turns to stare at Sapphire, as expected. Even the store-owners glue their faces to their windows to take in the newcomer. Sapphire’s steps falter a little and she bows her head, focusing on the sidewalk and I want nothing more than to pull her into my arms and growl at everyone.

“Good morning,” says a harpy I’ve exchanged a few words with in the past and it takes Sapphire a moment or two to realize the greeting is aimed at her.

“Oh…uh…morning!” She manages with a smile eventually.

“I haven’t seen you around before, have I?”

Sapphire shakes her head and a minotaur comes to a stop beside the harpy.

“You’re new,” he says, matter-of-factly.

“I am, indeed. Just arrived last night.”

Suddenly it’s as if the whole street is closing in on her, drawn in by her and her story and I have no choice but to hover above her shoulders and do my best to cast my townmates away.

Not that they’re hostile or rude. But even curiosity can be intimidating. Despite her obvious discomfort though, she handles the questions extremely well, turning to address everyone who asks her a question.

“Okay, okay, people! That’s enough ogling. Make some space, you’ll suffocate the poor thing before she even has a chance to settle in,” a full-figured woman says and cuts through the crowd like a bullet.

Her hair is short and fiery red and her face is full of freckles that accentuate her green eyes.

“Come now, honey. Would you like some water?” Orla says and puts her arm around Sapphire, dragging her into her store, Mortal Threads.

She guides her to an armchair and gets her a glass of water and some cookies before she sits on the floor in front of Sapphire.

“Feeling better?” Orla asks as Sapphire puts the glass down after a large swig and picks up a cookie.

“Thank you for that. That was…quite something.”

“Oh don’t worry about them. They’re harmless, but you see we haven’t had?—”

“A person enter town in twenty years? Yeah, so I’m told.”

Orla raises an eyebrow and nods.

“You’ve met someone here?”

Sapphire acts as if taken by surprise but she quickly catches herself and shakes her head.

“Oh, no. No, not at all. Just this…gargoyle, last night. He…he filled me in. And Esme of course. I’m staying at her bed & breakfast. I’m Sapphire.”

Orla shakes her hand and Sapphie takes the opportunity to take in the store.

There are racks on either side of the store and mannequins in podiums wearing all sorts of floral and colorful garments.

“You sell clothes?”

“I sure do. Mortal Threads caters to human women of all shapes and sizes. Everything you see here is designed and sewn by me.”

Sapphire’s eyes light up and she stands up.

“Just the thing I was looking for!”

Orla hops up too and then proceeds to show Sapphie the best pieces for her figure and complexion.

It’s fun watching her let loose, get comfortable and even laugh. She almost feels and sounds like the Sapphire I know. And the more I watch her the more convinced I get that my dream life is not a dream at all, but a vision. A vision of the future. And what a wonderful vision it is.

When she’s got more than enough outfits, Orla tells her to stop by soon for a chat and more cookies and sends her off.

Just before she goes back out into the street though, she whips out the compass again, studies it for a moment, and puts it away with a sigh.

She does that most of the rest of the day, wherever she goes, whatever she does. It’s as if she’s waiting for something. Or looking for something but I have no idea what it could be.

In the evening she returns to her room and the first thing she does is go to the device plugged into the outlet.

It lights up under her touch and as I study it closely, I realize what it is. A cell phone. Unlike any cellphone I’ve seen, but a cellphone nonetheless. It doesn’t have buttons but they appear on the screen when she tries to make a call.

The disconnect tone rings out over and over as she moves around the room. Somewhere between her fourth and fifth attempt I catch the name on the screen.

Amethyst.

That’s one of her sisters. The oldest one after her.

“This fucking…thing. Why won’t anything work in this town?” She slaps the screen a couple of times but it doesn’t give her a different result. “Fine!” she exclaims and starts typing on it instead.

I don’t like sneaking in on her but I can’t help myself. She seems so frustrated and all day I’ve been trying to figure out what’s got her so on edge. I want to know what’s wrong, and if there’s something I can do to help her. Not that I can do much as a ghost.

“Hey, the compass led me to a town called Beastly Falls. Have you ever heard of it? Anyway, I’m going to see if I can find Grams or the Book of Shadows. Keep you in the loop x.”

Grams? Book of Shadows? I search my memories for those, for any mention of them in the past twenty years but they don’t ring a bell. It’s strange. You’d think it’d have come up all this time. That I’d have met her grandmother or we’d have discussed about the family’s witchcraft book that passes from generation to generation but there’s nothing there.

Unless, like a dream, the memories have faded away. But why would that happen?

Is it her? Is meeting her in real life screwing up with my memories?

Am I going to forget the life I’ve dreamed of with her altogether? I really don’t want that to happen. I need to figure out how to stop it. Or at the very least, how to win her over so we can live out my fantasy in real life.

Because if there’s one thing I know, it’s that she’s my soulmate and I can’t live without her.