Fan Fiction ❯ Eadoin ❯ Idande ( Chapter 2 )

Eadoin

Chapter Two

Darkness surrounded everything, engulfing and embracing. Silence was broken by howling winds so shrill they sounded like the shrieks of dying people. Blood. Pain. Horror. An aching in my chest, so intense, so powerful and paralysing. I was suffocating, couldn't breathe, smoke filling his mouth. And I was coughing, coughing so much my chest hurt, my throat was raw.

But the pain was so intense, like I was grieving. And the shadows flickered, screaming. Red flames danced, glowing, leaping and twisting, a haunting mix of black and red casting horrific patterns over the concrete. And I heard the wind drowning out the sounds of shouting people, but I could see the tears of frightened children, and the desperate shouts of their families as the fire engulfed them, and the pain in my chest was unbearable, because this destruction was all my fault.

*

I've seen things in my life that people don't acknowledge, or believe. Even things that people have denied, and spent their lives trying to discredit, whether or not there's proof. But really, I don't care if they believe or not, because I know. Sometimes I'll be in church, or walking past the graveyard, and I'll see a restless spirit wandering or screaming a haunting cry, and someone else, perhaps an old woman or even a young child, will look with wide eyes, and I'll wonder if they can see it too, or if they can hear it, or perhaps can see a shadow of what I can, and they suspect. And they're scared.

I've never been scared of what I've seen. Curious sometimes. When the spirits are particularly gruesome I've been shocked, but I realise that they can't hurt me. But I've never been so utterly stunned before. Nothing that I'd ever seen, nothing that I ever believed, could prepare me for this. Sitting so casually on the grass, moonlight hair falling over his face, was a boy. A boy with huge wings made from blurred light, but wings none the less.

My heart was pounding so fiercely it hurt and I placed a hand on my chest to try and calm it. Adrenaline was pouring through my veins, in my blood, causing my whole body to shake. And my stomach was hollow, my throat was dry, but never once did I take my unblinking eyes away from the boy. One word came to my mind. Angel. But was that true? Was this boy really an angel? A heavenly creature sitting in the darkness alone, singing gently?

I couldn't really think clearly. I didn't move, didn't say a word, just watched the boy sitting. For a long moment I just watched him, and then realised how beautiful he was. There was no other word for it, he was beautiful. His hair was cut short in back, but long silver strands fell softly into his eyes. His skin was pale, not sickly white, but pale. And he's slender, with a hint of muscles. His legs are long beneath his jeans. And the wings spring so naturally from his back I almost forget that they shouldn't be there.

Shadows flicker across his skin, but he still seems to shine. And he hasn't seen me. I think I made a noise deep in my throat, perhaps a delayed grunt of surprise, or a subconscious desire for him to hear me and turn and look at me. I wasn't sure which, but only a moment later I looked up and realised that he had moved, that he was now sitting cross-legged with a beautiful smile on his face. And his eyes were blue. The intense blue of a hot burning flame. My heart was in my throat as I realised he was looking straight at me.

He tilted his head to the side almost gently, long strands of hair falling, looking curious. Still smiling, his voice broke the strange silence. "Hello." He sounded fairly happy, as if he was talking to an old friend.

"Hey," I murmured back. This was too strange. An angel was sitting in the middle of a park, talking to me like this was an everyday occurrence.

"Care to join me?" he asked, gesturing to the slightly damp grass beside him. I nodded without even thinking, and slowly made my way towards him, dropping to the ground gracelessly. He looked at me, still smiling, biting his bottom lip gently as if he was embarrassed.

"I . . . I heard your singing," I tried to explain, but found myself blushing slightly.

He nodded his head, still smiling uncertainly. "What's your name?" he asked gently.

"Eadoin," I breathed. I couldn't help shift my gaze slightly, looking past his shoulder at the glowing wings. They were real, they were definitely real, and yet he didn't seem bothered about the fact that he was sitting here talking to me and he had wings. "What's yours?" I asked.

"Idande," he said, watching me so intently I wanted to turn away. Perhaps, as strange as it sounded, he didn't know he had wings. Maybe he was just like everyone else, but with wings he couldn't see. But all thoughts were lost as he smiled gently at me again.

"Idande?" I whispered. "That's an unusual name."

"So's Eadoin," he almost chuckled. But once again my eyes travelled to his wings, and his smile faded. For some reason I felt deeply guilty as a frown played upon his lips, marring his beauty. He seemed pained. "You . . . you can see them?" he stuttered. Something between a statement and a question.

Now it was my turn to frown. My heart was pounding again, as if I'd been caught cheating in an exam, and my face was flushed. "See what?" I questioned, but he was still frowning.

"Please don't lie to me," he began, turning away slightly. "Can you . . . can you really see them?"

I didn't want to lie to him. "The wings?" I asked gently. "Yes, I can see them."

He looked at me, distressed, and my heart panged. "How? I've walked through the park, stood in the street and no one took any notice. No one could see them! So how . . .?" He trailed off, but his voice was so desperate I instinctively leaned forward and placed my hand on his shoulder.

"Ssh," I soothed. "Don't worry. I see things all the time, things that no one else can see. Restless spirits, demolished buildings, shadows of the past. But they don't scare me, and I don't tell anyone. If that's what you're scared of, please don't be. I won't say anything. I promise."

He looked at me for a long time, still uncertain. I tried to smile reassuringly, wondering why I was taking such an interest in this boy. Idande. And then I realised that my hand was still on his shoulder, his bare shoulder, and I removed it instantly. Deep blue eyes met mine, and I shivered uncontrollably. I couldn't help it. One moment I was fine, the next waves and waves of icy floods broke through my body, freezing my blood. I closed my eyes and gasped, holding my own body until the feeling passed. And when it did I was panting slightly. Well, that was new.

*

Flashes of light, blood red, cast against buildings, battling with shadows for supremacy. And then blood itself, liquid life flowing freely over everything like a wave, engulfing and drowning. Arms flaying, legs kicking, suffocation, mouth open screaming silently and drowning, suffocating on blood.

Vision gone, loss of senses. Just blood, only blood. And screams of horror and shouts of triumph and pain, pain, pain. Constant pain. Death and destruction.

*

A flash of silver, pale blue. White, holy and calming. I opened his eyes and saw Idande, the beautiful heavenly creature made from white and silver light, and the pain was gone. "Are you all right?" Idande was watching me with concern on his face, and I nodded slightly, biting my lip.

"Yes," I choked. But I don't think he entirely believed me. But he intrigued me, and I didn't want him to send me away. But then the haunting pain returned and I gasped in another breath of air, realised that I was leaning forward almost painfully, and Idande had a hand reassuringly placed on my back. And for a moment I didn't want to sit up, because I didn't want to lose the contact.

"Eadoin?" I blinked, slowly sat up, trying not to worry him. He looked slightly relieved, but a strange feeling spread throughout me.

"Idande," I murmured, still shaking slightly as I looked at him. "Idande, what are you? I've seen so many things, but nothing . . . no one . . . like you. Are you a spirit? Are you human? Are . . . are you an angel?"

Evening was growing stronger, purple fading into pale blacks, and now the sounds of laughing couples enjoying the moonlight began to flicker around them. Idande immediately stiffened, looking quite fearful, as if we were doing something sinful that we might be caught for. "An angel?" he echoed. "I don't know, maybe." He shook his head slightly, as if he was confused, then looked at me with wide, desperate eyes. Everything was fading again, the memories he had, the emotions he knew. Everything was spiralling out of control, leaving him desperate and alone. "Eadoin, I know I've known you for about ten minutes, but I feel strangely attached to you. And I want to learn about your powers, and . . . if you want to talk about me too, that's okay. But could we please go somewhere else?"

The sounds of giggling couples were growing louder. Some drunken cries, some suggestive moans. He didn't want them to see us. "They can't see your wings," I said reassuringly. "Just because I can, doesn't mean they can. Believe me, I know."

He still looked pained, and as darkness claimed everything, his wings were shining like sparkling gold in the light. Beautiful. Ethereal. And yet, for what he was, strangely natural. "I know," he breathed. "But please . . ."

I nodded. It was strange, cos I felt attached to him too. And I wanted to know what he was, and why I had made this sudden transition into seeing boys with wings. And then I wondered just where I was going to take him. Not my mother's house. No, not with my grandmother around. So the only other place was the apartment I shared with Kit.

I sighed. Kit probably wouldn't be best pleased if I let some strange boy sleep in our apartment, whether he had wings or not. But I suppose it was the best I could do. "Come with me," I whispered.

And as we walked through the inky darkness, the only light coming from the streetlights, and strangely enough, Idande's wings, I thought one thing.

"The new friend you have. The one with the wings."

*

We reached the apartment about half an hour later. On the way home I saw a car skidding down the road, tyres screeching against the concrete, hideously loud. And then the car smashed sickeningly into a young girl walking across the road, and she flew through the air, her body smashing against stone, broken and bloodied.

But no one screamed, and no one phoned an ambulance, and moments later both the car and the girl were gone. And when I turned I saw a bunch of dying flowers tied tightly onto the lamppost, marking the anniversary of her death, petals falling through the cold night air. I looked at Idande, and he looked back sadly, and I knew that he'd seen it too while the various nocturnal humans around us were oblivious.

But I kept things like that from disturbing me, because if I allowed every death I saw to emotionally hurt me, I don't know where I'd be.

I stopped outside the door, and Idande watched me almost sadly as I placed the metal key in the lock. It was probably past midnight by now. As the door opened I turned and saw Idande facing the moon, silver light enveloping him, bathing his skin. A moonlight embrace. Swallowing a lump in my throat I entered the apartment, turned on the hall light and gestured for him to follow me.

I called gently for Kit, but saw a note on the coffee table that said he wouldn't be home til the early hours, and that was nothing new. And I was actually quite relieved cos I felt somewhat guilty for bringing Idande, a supernatural creature that Kit would never see clearly let alone understand, into our home.

For a long moment I stood thinking, but then I heard a quiet noise and remembered Idande. I led him to my bedroom, still feeling guilty. For a moment I wondered how he was going to fit through the door. His wings were huge and spread behind him, too wide for the doorframe. But I shouldn't have worried. Without a second's thought he walked forward and his wings simply faded and passed through the walls. I should have been shocked, but really, after everything I've seen, I wasn't.

I closed the door behind him and turned to see Idande watching me closely, chewing his bottom lip again like he was embarrassed. I smiled reassuringly at him. "What are you so worried about?" I asked.

He shook his head. "I don't know. Just . . . finding out that someone could see my wings was a little shocking and now I'm getting paranoid." He lowered his head, then looked up at me again, his blue eyes burning into mine. "You saw that girl being hit by the car, didn't you? You weren't supposed to, but you did. How long have you had the sight?"

I shook my head, unconsciously sitting on my bed. "As long as I can remember," I whispered. "I saw a little girl when I was three, a girl who I suspect was my dead sister. And I just saw things in the street, in school, anywhere, and I assumed everyone else could see them too."

"But they couldn't," Idande stated.

"No," I murmured. "I sometimes asked if they could, but they never did. So eventually I just stopped asking. And I continued to see things that no one else could, and I kept it to myself."

I didn't know why I was telling all this to a stranger, and a stranger with wings none the less, but I was. He nodded slightly, then smiled, and I found myself smiling too. "But what about you?" I asked, wanting answers, even though he stiffened and sighed gently as if it was too painful.

"Me?" he asked. "What do you want to know about me? I'm a boy, and I have wings."

"It's as simple as that?" I asked in disbelief.

I think he wanted to say 'yes,' but instead he closed his eyes and shook his head. "To be honest, I'm not sure. I just remember light and mist. Warmth. Somewhere I was happy, but I wanted more. I wanted to learn and feel. And the next thing I knew I was standing in a street, and people were just walking past me, paying no notice. But I had wings, and I could feel them, but no one could see them. And I was happy."

Suddenly he turned and faced me, our eyes meeting, and he was crying. And the pain in him was so clear that without realising it I was crying too. "But my memories used to be clearer," he admitted. "I knew everything at first, but then slowly I forgot a few things. I knew where I came from, now I just have an aching in my chest like I've lost something. And now really the only thing I can remember is my name and I don't know how long it will be until I forget that."

Again I felt guilty as Idande slowly sat beside me on the bed. "I . . . I'm not human I don't think. I'm here for a reason." There was a choking pain in my chest because I could feel his desperation and it hurt me to think that he was hurting. He was looking into my eyes and I couldn't break away. "I think I might be an angel, sent to earth. But I won't know. I won't remember until I find Leilani."

"Leilani?" I asked, and Idande looked shocked.

"Yes . . . I just remembered. Leilani came here with me, and we need to find each other. I have to find her."

"Don't worry," I murmured. "You'll find her. I'll . . . I'll help you."

I wanted to find out more about Idande and Leilani, but most of all I felt a strong attachment towards Idande and wanted any excuse to keep seeing him. I didn't know what the feeling was, but suddenly he leapt forward and wrapped his arms around me, hugging me silently. As I felt his body against mine my cheeks flushed immediately, burning my skin, but thankfully he couldn't see. My heart was pounding in my chest and I felt so embarrassed.

"Thank you," he murmured, and once again I became very aware that he was shirtless. "But please, stay away from the others!"

"The others?" I echoed, and was hit by a feeling of déjà vu.

"Yes, the others. You shouldn't hang around with people who try to trick you like that. They're not to be trusted." My grandmother's words.

"Eadoin, can I . . . can I stay tonight?" Idande asked me gently.

I wondered silently why I didn't hesitate when I said, "Yes."

Idande fell asleep long before I did, perhaps exhausted from whatever he had been through today, though neither of us knew just exactly what that was. My room was small; the apartment wasn't particularly large, and it didn't need to be since it was shared by two college students who spent most of their time out. But now I realised it was small. Idande, as innocent as he was, had fallen asleep on my bed.

So instead of sleeping I just watched him. I called Idande a boy, but then I thought myself a boy when I was nineteen, because I still had so much growing up to do. But even though Idande was probably slightly younger than me, if not the same age, he looked like a child when he slept. Lying on his side, his legs pulled up to his chest in unconscious comfort, one hand under his face and the other around his waist, he also looked very insecure. But beautiful, still beautiful. His hair fanned out on the pillow, shining silver, and his wings . . .

Perhaps it was because he was asleep, or maybe because they weren't needed, but Idande's pure light wings had faded into dimness, like a dying candle giving way to darkness, until eventually they were gone.

I sighed gently, turned away and looked out of the window. It was dark; unbelievably dark, shadows thick and engulfing everything. Skeletal trees shook in the wind, and I looked up at the moon, at the huge bright eye in the sky, and wondered what was happening to me. I'd seen things before but nothing like this, and nothing I could talk with. Spirits I sometimes spoke to, wondering if they wanted me to pass a message on, if they wanted to know something, but as with Jake they usually just watched me in something like morbid curiosity then turned away and stayed in isolated misery, as if they couldn't understand.

Of course not all spirits were like this. Most of them passed on to a better place. But Idande was nothing like them, almost a person who could and would speak to me, who felt solid under my touch. Was he . . . could he really be an angel? And then I remembered something . . . blood? It invaded my mind for a moment, a dark flash of pain, but almost immediately faded into uncertainty.

Almost without realising it I began to flick through the magazines and books on my desk, taking in nothing, but feeling comforted by the fact that I was doing something normal. And then my hands travelled across the wood and there was a small book beneath my fingers. I flicked the pages, and then realised the word Angel was staring up at me. I froze, trembling slightly, turned the book and realised I was holding my dictionary. Sometimes things like this happened; I received warnings or messages, but this was so clear it was frightening.

Angel: spiritual being believed to be an attendant or messenger of God; person who is kind, pure or beautiful.

I frowned slightly, lowered the book to my lap and glanced at Idande's sleeping form. So maybe it didn't matter what Idande was, why he had wings, because by just being kind and beautiful he was an angel.

I narrowed my eyes, feeling sleep claim me. Idande needed help to find Leilani, whoever she was, and I knew that I was being drawn into this story for whatever reason. And I knew that I was going to help Idande, no matter the fact that he was practically a stranger to me.

With little hesitation I slept beside him on the bed.

*

The next morning I woke up very slowly, drifting somewhere between being awake and asleep, hearing voices through the fog in my brain but not able to distinguish what they were. But I couldn't seem to shake myself into waking so I simply lay and listened and wondered what was reality and what wasn't. A problem I've had every day of my life. I managed to open my eyes and wondered why I was lying so precariously on the bed, too close to the edge, as if making room for someone else . . . And then it hit me and I remembered Idande and everything from last night.

I turned, gasping slightly, expecting to see him, but there was nothing. Idande wasn't there, just an empty bed, and I wondered for a long time whether I had been dreaming. It seemed so real, but then most dreams did. I felt slightly disappointed, a suffocating pain in my chest something like grief; as if I'd lost someone I cared about. And I realised that I had, cos right from the beginning I cared about him. But then, when I heard something that could only be described as a scream, a loud and piercing scream that came from a living person, I jerked up. Oh damn. Why didn't I think of this sooner?

Quickly I jumped out of bed, bare foot but still fully dressed from last night, and ran into the kitchen. I saw Idande first, and smiled instinctively. He was still wearing his jeans, still shirtless, looking slightly shocked with a carton of milk in one hand. And he was staring intently at something. My smiled faded and I remembered the scream, and I saw Kit leaning heavily against the counter, his head pressed into his palm, breathing rapidly.

"Jesus, I nearly had a heart attack!" he shouted, pushing himself from the counter and struggling to regain some ounce of self control. I would have laughed but suddenly Kit noticed me, glared at Idande almost evilly, and then looked at me again. Adrenaline ran through my body and I felt like I was caught doing something wrong, or something embarrassing. "What's going on here?" he asked, acid in his voice, looking straight at Idande, but asking me.

But I think he saw Idande's slightly ruffled bed hair, and the way he was half dressed, and he knew what was going on. "How long have you been here? Eadoin, do you know him?"

I swallowed, turned away. "Yes," I murmured. "He stayed the night."

Kit looked at me long and hard, sternly, and then blinked suddenly, his mouth hanging open like he was a goldfish. "He . . . he stayed the night?" Kit repeated. "But why? And where did he sleep . . .?" A long pause, a look of recognition. "Oh. Oh, I see."

He sounded pained, but he looked disappointed. "It's not what you think," I blurted, not knowing why I had to defend myself.

He waved a hand, dismissing me. "No Eadoin, I don't care." But still the pain and disappointment. "I just never realised you were . . . like that."

"No, Kit -" I tried desperately to explain but he waved his hand again, silencing me. Idande watched on in curiosity, the milk carton still in his hand. Eventually Kit, realising that he had been rather rude to him, said, "What's your name?" sounding quite friendly.

And then I thought something. Idande's wings were back again, cutting through the air like spears of light, slightly more silver than yesterday, but definitely impressive. I could see them of course, but Kit couldn't or he would have said something. But Kit could see Idande. He could actually see the boy, just not the wings. Interesting.

But then my heart pounded furiously in my chest when I heard Idande speak. "My name's Ande Winters," he said, and he believed it.

I started, my body shaking. "Ande Winters?" I echoed in disbelief.

Kit looked at me sternly, rolling his eyes. "Geez Eadoin, you didn't even ask his name?"

"And now really the only thing I can remember is my name and I don't know how long it will be until I forget that."

"I . . . I . . ." I didn't know what to say, could barely think. And then the coldness was back, suffocating, spreading through my veins, freezing my blood. Muscles spasmed, my breathing was choked, and I just closed my eyes and felt my insides clench painfully. I let out a small moan, could barely hear the shouts from Kit. They seemed so far away. And then I just didn't have the strength to stand anymore so I fell.

I felt wrong. No other word for it, just wrong.

*

Darkness covering everything like a hideous shroud. Blood pouring freely, the smell of death overpowering and choking, a sour stench. The sounds of bitter laughing, people who were driven insane, out of their minds, just laughing and nothing else, not even existing. The feel on bones beneath my feet as I walked, hard and unforgiving.

Smoke filled the air, drifting like huge grey snakes, poisoning the atmosphere, suffocating. And I watched it all, existed among it all, the only one sane and alive and untouched while people around me cried out in pain, withering as they died. And it was my fault. It was all my fault.

~TBC~