Love Begins in Hell (The Moon Journals: Part 1) (8 page)

Realizing I had brought up a sad subject again, I scolded myself.  From the pile of wood I had gathered, I took a few logs and positioned them in front of the bench where he still sat. I arranged the logs in a stack on the sand.

“I hope so,” he finally said.  “It’s been so long since I’ve seen her, you know?”

I heard his voice crack momentarily.  He fell silent again and I realized that his grief was as great as mine.  “There’s a lot out there we still don’t understand.  Like the river.  I never knew that was a portal.  There could be more and we just don’t know about them.  Like doors to other worlds.  I never knew I could be in the Garden one minute and in Hell the next.  If we can find the right door, maybe we can see our loved ones again.”

“I’d like that.  Doors to other worlds.  Here let me help you.”

I paused and glanced over at Dante as he joined me.  “I don’t have a light.  Do you?”

He aimed his hands just under the stack of wood and sent a fireball from the center of his palm, hitting the wood dead-on and igniting the logs.

“You cease to amaze me.”

Dante smiled.  “A benefit of being a demon I suppose, fire power.”  A spark from the flames danced in his beautiful eyes and he grinned at me.

A need of urgency suddenly made me move toward him.  I reached out to touch his face.

Dante quickly stood up.  “Like I told you, I do have a few tricks up my sleeve.  Help me move the bench a little closer so we’ll stay warm.”

We sat, arm in arm, curled up by the fire Dante had started, on the bench Dante had carved out of a palm tree. I marveled at the tranquility of the scene, of the moment, of our embrace.

“Did you lose your mother too?”

Dante’s words shattered my peace.  I chewed on my bottom lip, refusing to speak.  Tears surface again in my eyes, threatening to spill over.  As I stared into the fire, images of the night my mother, a witch, was burned at the stake in front of everyone in the pack flashed before my eyes.  It had been the most nightmarish vision of my life, even for a young child of eight-years-old.  I had refused to watch her die like that.  Instead I had glared at my fluffy light blue slippers instead, holding my teddy bear as my father had forced my shoulders and head to be pointed at the fire.  It was the beginning of the end of our relationship.  I blamed him for not saving my mother.  Instead he opted to marry her best friend, the one who had brought charges against her, saying she was a black witch, a witch who needed to be destroyed.

“You don’t have to say anything, Elana.  I saw it all just now.  I’m so sorry for your lose.”  Dante held me tighter.

“My aunt,” I began.  “Had it not been for her.”  I stopped not being able to continue to tell Dante how my aunt, my father’s sister actually had taken the place of my mother.  She had raised me.  And losing her now was only more salt in my wounds of grief.  My sister too.  All the women in my family gone.  It was too much to bear.  “Ha!” I yelled, laughing at my own private joke.

Dante jumped.  “Are you okay?”

“Yes.  I’m sorry.  I’m a basket of nerves right now.  I suppose I couldn’t talk you into giving me more of my blood, could I?”  Even now, the wanting of his blood startled me.  I wanted that and more from him.

He encircled me with his well-toned arms again and pulled me back into the bench with him.  “The extreme sway of your emotions may increase if I give you more blood.  You’re upset now.  I don’t want to give you more to deal with.”

I recognized what that comment probably meant.  “Your dark side?  The blood?”

“Yes,” he whispered as a log fell over and caused a burst of sparks to billow up.  “The more blood of mine I give you, the more of an attitude you’ll probably develop.  And the more of a bond we will develop.  Do you understand?”

“There will always be a duality I will have to deal with then?” I asked.  “A good side and a bad side?”

“Yes,” Dante said.  Taking my hand in his, he lightly kissed my palm.  “Parting from you will certainly drive me insane.”

“I don’t want to leave you,” I replied.  My eyes brimmed with fresh tears.  “Couldn’t you go with me?”

“If it was that simple, I would.  Yes.”  He stood up to put a little distance between the two of us.

As I watched him put a few more logs on the fire, I struggled to think.  A sense of urgency lodged in my stomach.  Being next to Dante overloaded every nerve in my body.  I wanted to be with him beneath the palm trees, despite my dilemma, despite my grief, despite the uncertainty of our future together.  Immediately I redirected my thoughts.  “Wouldn’t more blood from you protect me against your father and his demon dogs?  I don’t possess a natural warrior demeanor like you do, Dante.”

“You’re trying to butter me up, Elana.  Aren’t you?”  He rejoined me on the bench and wrapped me up in his arms, slightly rocking me back and forth.

I giggled a little and savored the moment.  “Perhaps.”  I leaned closer to him.  “Is it true though?  What I asked you?  Would it help?”

Suddenly his body went rigid against me.  “You drank too much last time.  I can’t risk it.”

“One taste then,” I argued.

“No,” he said flatly.  “Not until I talk with Orlando.  I can’t risk it, Elana.  Don’t ask me again.”

The harshness of his tone of voice felt like a slap across my face until I reminded myself that Dante was protecting me, even from
me
.

“It’s almost sunset.  Do you think they dragons will be here soon?” I asked, dropping the subject.  I observed Dante, realizing he wasn’t paying attention to me.

“I don’t know why they aren’t already,” he mumbled.  He gazed out across the water.

“Dante, is something wrong?”

“No,” he reassured me.  “Let’s get some sleep and start off in the morning.”

Despite how silly it would sound, I asked him, “Are we safe here?”

“Completely.”  He smiled at me.

As I looked at his teeth, it dawned on me that I hadn’t realized he had such lovely white teeth.  I suppose I was expecting them to be yellow and dingy because my father had heard all demons had bad teeth.  The realization reminded me my father wasn’t right about most things.

***

As Dante and I watched the fire, he pulled me tighter into his arms.  When a gust of wind drifted by, my golden hair wildly whipped around my face and shoulders, lacerating him a time or two on the chin.

Occasionally, he sent another shot of flames at the fire to keep it going.

I wrestled with my thoughts.  Was it the right time?  I decided to take a chance and tell him what I was feeling.

“I know our time together has been short and we don’t have much time left before I go home, so I want to tell you something.”

“Elana, you don’t have to…”

“Please let me finish.  I’ve never done this before.  It’s not like me to voice my feelings, even though I am a girl.  Okay?”

He nodded.

“I know it doesn’t make sense, but I knew from the minute I saw you staring at me that I wanted to claim your heart.  I won’t deny it and I won’t spend my life regretting things.  I don’t have time for it.  Life is now.  Here and now and I want my life with you, Dante.  If it means, it’s only a few hours more or millenniums, I want to be by your side now and always.”

Unexpectedly he placed his hand on my shoulders.  “No,” he whispered hoarsely.  “They’ll kill you.”

“They’ll try,” I replied, raising my chin upwards.

A slow smile creased his face.  He chuckled at my defiance.  “Indeed.  Let’s get some sleep my wolf warrior and talk about it in the morning.”

I sighed.  “Okay.”  I snuggled in his arms overwhelmed with the events of the day.

The Moon Goddess

When Dante finally fell asleep on the bench, I unlaced myself from his arms and looked for more wood to put on the fire.  It was low and only a soft glow of coals remained.  I didn’t want to bother him with igniting a new batch of wood, and I couldn’t sleep.

Now and then I heard him mumbled in his sleep and I’d check on him.  His angular features radiated in the dying firelight.  He was the most striking man I’d ever seen.  My heart jerked and I felt a dull ache of foreboding.  Did I want to return home, back to the Garden now, without Dante?

Suddenly a large gust of wind from the South blew out the flames of the smoldering fire.  My vision adjusted as I noted how completely dark the night had become.  Dante muttered in his sleep.  I went to him and placed my fingertips on his wrist.  He still had a pulse and was breathing evenly. 
He’s fine,
I thought. 
And he said we were safe here.
  With that in mind, I decided to explore the beach some.

I looked out across the water to where the strong wind had surfaced.  The waters were calm like all life in the sea had stopped.  I glanced out at the end of the pier, thinking I wouldn’t see anyone, but I did.  The moonlight appeared, bathing a figure in light.  The person retreated and sat down in the hammock, looking my way beckoning me to join him or her, then reclining in the hammock, rocked back and forth, whistling.  I remained frozen, closing my eyes temporarily, so I could focus on the sound.  Did I know the tune?  I could hear the song floating over the breeze. 
Hush, little baby, don't say a word, Mama's gonna buy you a mockingbird.

My throat tightened and my legs lurched forward.  Could it be?  My mother had sung that lullaby to me when I was a baby.  Could it be her?  Cautiously I made my way out along the pier, hoping against hope it was my mother.  When I approached the figure, I realized she was a woman.  She wore a white chiffon dress that hovered and moved around her.  The dress sparkled with gems that had been woven throughout the sleeves and upper bodice.

Taking a moment to stand, the woman tossed her blonde hair away from her face and over her shoulder, just the way my mother did.  I recognized the gesture immediately.  Her face, I did not recognize.  But her eyes.  Her eyes I recognized.  They were the color of mine. Tranquil pools of amber love gazing up at me.

“Elana, my love.”

“Mother?” I ventured.  It had to be her.

“Yes, my love,” she said.  “Don’t let my appearance concern you.  It is me.”

“What happened?” I asked as I took her feeble hand in mine and guided her along the pier towards the beach.  I wanted to hug her, but I was afraid I’d break her in half.  She was so gaunt and frail.

“The last token of friendship my best friend took from me before she pushed into the fire.  Since then, I’ve aged some while learning my magic.  The previous Moon Goddess retired and handed things over to me.  I have some big shoes to fill.”

I halted in my tracks, glancing down at my dress, and then at her.  “
You
are the Moon Goddess?”

She simply winked at me, a hint of calculating knowledge crossing her features.

“This is wonderful!” I exclaimed.

In response, a grin beamed on her face.  “You were always such a natural wolf.  You understand, yes?”

“I think so.”

“Let me look at you,” she stated, again changing the subject.  “You have grown up into such a beautiful lady.  Look at you!”  She stifled a thin giggle of excitement.  “Do I look that old to you, my darling?  Too old to hug?  Oh what am I saying?  That doesn’t matter, let me look at you.  I’m so happy to see you!”

It was indeed my mother!  Her constant chatter.  Her changing subjects often.  It was indeed her.  When we made it to the end of the wooden pier, she whirled me around and fastened both her hands on my elbows like clamps.  There was no mistaking.  She may look old, but her grip was strong and firm.  Her strength had increased, not diminished.  Her magic probably had as well.  It would have to if she was now the Moon Goddess.  Her nails dug into my flesh and I quietly cringed, pretending I felt no pain.

“It’s been so long,” I said, wrapping my arms around her waist as I hugged her.  Delicately, I cradled her bony frame against my body.  Foregoing the formalities, I planted a huge kiss on each of her wrinkled cheeks which seemed to delight her.

It seemed my stepmother had drained the very life source from her.  I felt enraged.  A wave of anger flashed across my face and I was sure my mother had seen it. 
I’ll kill him for this.

Immediately, she turned my attention to the beach.  “Are you alone?”

“No,” I replied, patting her hand like she was a hundred years old and I was but a child.  “I want to meet someone.”  I noticed out of the corner of my eye that the moonlight seemed to follow us, shining a spotlight on us.

“He is close to your heart, yes?  I feel this radiance permeating from you.”

“Yes, Mother.  I think I…” I paused, not daring to utter the words my heart already knew.  “I think I love him,” I finally admitted.  Feeling ashamed, I quickly shut down and blurted out.  “He’s willing to save me from Lucifer’s clutches and that’s all that matters.”

She contemplated me, never once believing my hesitation.  My mother could always see through any of my charades.  She ran her fingers slowly over her lips in a circle, listening intensely to me, but thinking at the same time as she carefully composed her next statement.  It was a habit that drove my father nuts.  “Elana, who is this boy?  Is he a demon?  You can’t trust…”