The 13th Descent: Book One of The Rosefire Trilogy (13 page)

He sighs, in what I
pray is regret and not relief, and with an indifferent gaze and a distant tone I don’t recognise, he softly and terrifyingly says, “You know what you are to me, Serenay?
You
are my greatest disappointment.” He pushes away from the table, snatches up his backpack, turns and strides away from me.

My
panicked heart rips me out of my seat and propels me forward. “Mike!” I scream, tripping over a chair leg and ungraciously falling to my knees.

Everyone in
the lounge immediately turns towards the commotion I’m making, everyone except for him.

My
very public panic attack has landed me in the airport’s first-aid station where I am laying on a hard cot in a small white room, looking up into the pretty face of a young Singaporean nurse named Min who likes to negotiate.

As per our agreement, now
that I am calm and my blood pressure is back within normal range, she is finally going to give me back my mobile phone.

First, I try
and call Mike’s mobile which is turned off and goes straight to voicemail. I leave a teary message saying that I’m really sorry I upset him and that I hope he is OK, in-between begging him to call me back as soon as possible.

Then
I call Aunt Romey. After establishing multiple times that I’m alright, she explains that I will be taking the next leg of the trip on my own because, “Mike is finding his own way there. But, not to worry,” she reassures me, “because once you land, you will be accompanied the rest of the way.”

“Accompanied by
who?” I ask.

“Family,” she answers.

In other words, it’ll be a cousin I haven’t seen since I was in nappies, or a relative I have never met before. Fan-bloody-tastic…

“So, you’re sure
Mike is on his way there?” I clarify, again.

“Yes, Renay. I’m sure,”
she answers with a weary sigh.

“And you’ll
tell him that I’ve been trying to call him.”

“Yes, Renay. I’ll
mention it.”

“And you’ll tell him how sorry I am.”

“No, Renay. I won’t,” is her stony reply.

“No
? What do you mean, no?” I ask, completely taken aback.

“That’s an exchange to be had between the two of you, face to face, heart to heart,” she states.

Thinking of the hope sapping words he left me with, my breathing grows rapid and my bloodshot eyes dribble more tears. “He’s been mad at me before, Aunt Romey, but not like this. And to be honest, I’m not entirely sure of what I’ve done,” I whimper.

“It’s more about what you haven’t done, Renay.”

Here I am worrying about all of the things I may have cocked up, and now I have to worry about the things I haven’t gotten around to cocking up yet? “What do you mean?” I ask, suddenly finding my voice.

“Having someone’s trust is a rare and precious thing,
and to gain yours, here in this challenging world, lifetime after lifetime, has always given Mike the hope and strength of purpose he needs to stay on the path he chose all those centuries ago. This is the first time after a remembering that you don’t trust him, and he is scared of what that might mean,” she explains.

“But, it’s not just him. I don’t trust anyone!”
I loudly admit.

“I know, Renay. And Mike is well aware of it too,
” she says, a little too expectantly.

The weight of my despa
ir drops like a boulder into the pit of my stomach, crumpling my innards and smouldering what’s left of the once raging fire in my belly. 

After a long, heavy silence, Aunt Romey
eventually breaks it by adding, “Mike has given up more than you realise to help us, Renay, and his love for you is only a part of it. He holds on to one gift you continued to give to him and no one else, and without it, he is lost. ”

Lost. I know the feeling. But, “What
do you mean, given up?” I ask with a roar that comes out more like a squeak.

“Being who he i
s, and descending as many times as he has, well, he has regressed, Renay, and a soul can only regress for so long.”

T
he loud speaker unexpectedly bellows across the small space, startling me and interrupting us. “Final boarding call for Flight K138-”

“T
hat’s you! You better get going!” Aunt Romey yells in my ear.

“But-”

“Know, trust, that you are taken care of, dear Rose. Have a restful flight and we’ll see you soon,” she says and abruptly hangs up.

“But…but
…,” I stammer down the disconnected phone line.

Nurse Min re-enters the room looking concerne
d, even more so when she sees the phone limply hanging from my hand and my pale and gaping expression. “Are you OK?” she asks, hurrying over to me.

I
weakly nod, hand her the receiver and slump back down on the cot. She places one hand over my forehead and takes my pulse with the other as her hard stare scans my face.

Once satisfied, she reaches into her front pocket, pulls out a small zip lock bag with two
smoky grey pills inside it, hands it to me and says, “I have been told to give you these sleeping tablets, and to tell you, ‘Know, trust, that you are taken care of.’”

I sigh and tut knowingly
. It seems my Aunt Romey and her Avalon arm has a very long reach.

“You must take them now,” Nurse Min
says in her no-nonsense way, handing me a glass of water, “and quickly gather your things so we can get you to your flight.”

The idea of some thoughtless, unfeeling shut eye
, and believing that it is Aunt Romey who is offering me this assisted rest, I thankfully take the pills and the water and gulp them down before I can think twice.

W
ith Nurse Min’s much needed help, I groggily board the plane and find my seat. Teetering on the edge of consciousness; my last thought being how quick and effective those little grey pills are, I fall into a deep, dreamless sleep.

After what feels like
just a cat nap, I wake up with my head and torso squished into the hard crevice between the seat and the window with a serious case of cotton mouth and a crick in my neck that screams that I’ve actually been asleep for hours, maybe even days. A fast talking flight attendants soon sees that I’m awake and chirpily introduces herself as Stephanie, who happily informs me that we have just entered British air space, that I am the easiest passenger she has looked after in a while, and that, “You’re dog also slept most of the way too!”

I
snort, realising that my hearing must still be as foggy as my eyesight. “Sorry, Stephanie, what did you say?” I ask, squinting in her direction.

“I said that your dog has also slept most of the way too! Wow, he’s a big one, isn’t he? I would
’ve thought he’d be too big to assist a little lass like you, but what do I know. And unusual looking…I’ve never seen a breed like it! He’s kind of like a black, shaggy-haired fox, but the size of a Great Dane! And his name! Where in the world did you come up with that? Or should I ask, what were you smoking at the time?” she snickers. “We’re getting ready to land, so best you fasten your seat belt now, Miss Avalon. Unless you need some help?” I shake my head no. “Well, alright then!” she chirrups as her blurry, petite form turns and bustles up the aisle.

I don’t give someone else’s huge, black
canine a second thought as I blearily buckle myself in, close my eyes and prepare to descend into a strange land without my best friend: a land host to my past, my present, and from what everyone tells me, my future.

xxXxx

Getting ready to exit the plane with no great improvement in my vision, I ask the nice, older man next to me if he could help retrieve my hand luggage from the overhead compartment. He does, and courteously informs me that it is nearly our turn to spill into the line filling the aisle. “I’ll let you know when it’s our turn to go, love,” he says.

“Oh. Thank you,” I reply.
He must have noticed how those pills have done a number on me; who could miss it with my birds nest hair two hands full of fingers can’t untangle, the huge wet patch of drool on my shoulder, and my groggy squint.

As
we stand and dutifully wait, I rapidly blink my eyes trying to get my vision to catch up with the rest of me when it hits me that maybe I’m not hung-over from the pills Nurse Min gave me, maybe I’ve had a stroke or something else really serious, and my anxiety takes a sharp left into full blown hysteria.

To stop myself from panting,
I try and hold my breath, but my mouth and my lungs have other ideas as they both open up together and let out a blood curdling scream.

“
Excuse me! Excuse me, please!” I hear Stephanie, the bubbly flight attendant, sing out trying to sound poised, as colourful shadows of all shapes and sizes part before me like the Red Sea.

“I can’t see!” I
shriek at Stephanie’s fast approaching silhouette.

“I know, Miss Avalon. And I’m sorry we couldn’t allow your dog to fly in the cabin with you, but without the proper clearance documentation, he had to f
ly in the back. But, please don’t worry, he is safe, and shortly after you step off the plane, you’ll be together again. You’ll see,” she twitters nervously.

“
But, I can’t see! Please, please help me, Stephanie,” I cry out again as I find her shoulders and frantically clutch on to her.

“Um, I mean, no, you won’t see him, how stupid of me…but you’ll, um…well he’ll be right there, at
the Freight terminal, waiting for you, Miss Avalon…I didn’t mean…” For reasons I can’t quite figure out, now Stephanie and I are both in a flap. “You’ll be with your Benni Dhoo in just a few minutes…that I can promise you,” she babbles.

Ben
ni Dhoo…

My heart warms as my memory shows me the
loving light of his unblinking, tawny eyes, and suddenly everything goes as black as his long tendrils of fur.

xxXxx

I cannot believe that in a little over a day, I have visited two different first aid stations in two different continents: both as pokey and as sterile as each other, both manned by lovely, competent nurses: one was hell bent on getting me to settle down and rest, meanwhile the other is on a mission to get me up and moving.

“
Let’s make sure your legs aren’t painted on. Come on, now. One. Two. Three. Upsy-daisy,” buxom Nurse Alison with her thick Scottish accent eggs me on as she helps me up from my chair.

“I’m
OK, Alison. Really. But, thank you, again, for all of your help,” I try and convince her for the third time.

“You
know, you remind me of my sister,” she chatters. “Ever since she was tiny, the moment she gets her dander up, down she goes!”

I want to explain to her that this fainting thing is very recent, and embarrassing, and inconvenient, and only seems to happen when the
acute remembrance of an experience, or a someone, blindsides me with overwhelming emotion.

“
We’d better go and get your helper dog. I just got a call from his minder. It seems he misses you and he is making quite a fuss!” she exclaims.

That was all she needed to
say to get me going. If she wasn’t holding my arm so firmly and my eyesight was back to normal, I’d climb over the crowds of people packing the airport to get to him: to my beautiful, beloved companion, protector and friend who has watched over me and my loved ones for generations. Besides Mike, I couldn’t have hoped for a better escort.

The little grey
pills, the deep sleep, the blindness, Benni Dhoo. It all finally makes sense. They have made the farce a reality, complete with Seeing Eye dog, to avoid relying on my dodgy acting skills, all so I can remain ignorant of the Apple Isle location and how to get there, further lessening the possibility of putting our loved ones, past and present, at risk.

Nurse
Alison leads me through a rabbit warren of corridors towards the distant sound of Benni Dhoo’s howls and whimpers. We turn a corner and his cries get louder and closer; Alison groans as I pick up the pace, replacing her as leader as I drag her towards the mournful sound. We soon reach the closed door where he waits for me on the other side, and as his desperate cries turn into a cheerful ruckus, I am happy that he knows that I am nearby, and that he is just as excited to see me as I am to see him.

She
turns the handle and pushes open the door to what she explains is the Collections area. “Benni Dhoo!” I call out, not caring who else is around to see me go all goo-goo over my furry friend. It’s not as if I can see their stares anyway.

I hear some chuckling footsteps coming our way. “
Hello, Miss Avalon. My name is Eddie. Benni Dhoo’s harness is on and he’s ready to go. I’ll take you to him,” he says in a friendly voice. With Nurse Alison still by my side, we walk straight for eleven steps, turn right and then head through another door that closes behind us. “Just stand where you are, and I’ll go get him and bring him to you,” he instructs.

Though the wall,
I hear the muffled jingle and creak of the cage door being unlocked and opened, followed by, “Whoa, boy! Slow down!” as fast moving claws scuffle across the tile floor. I stand there, smiling big, impatiently waiting for him to jump up on me so I can wrap my arms around him and give him a big hug, but he doesn’t. Instead, he approaches me with slow steps and diligently sits by my leg. But after a few seconds, when I assume when no-one is looking, he leans against me and rests his head against my hip.