Pygmalion

By DocPaul

Chapter Thirty-four: Who I am, and what I will be…

Day Forty-eight: Sunday, 2:43 am

“Hi,” Alex said from the doorway.

Isabel was in her bedroom sitting beside the window in the dark. She had refused to talk to him before he went to work, and he was uncertain if she wanted him here now.

“Hi,” Isabel answered in a monotone, without turning around.

“You going to talk to me?”

Isabel sighed, “I don’t know.”

She turned in her chair, and Alex swore when he saw tear tracks on her cheeks. He held back. She wouldn’t want his comfort. Not now. Not yet.

“She lives in me, doesn’t she?”

“Yes.”

“Do you see her?”

“Every time I look at you.”

Isabel was startled at that comment. “She’s a monster! How can you stay? Why do you love me if you see her?” Isabel didn’t give him a chance to comment. “Is that why you didn’t tell me?”

Alex entered the room. “No. And before you ask, I’m not sure which part that no’ goes to.” He knelt in front of her, taking her hands in his. “Isabel, my heart...my soul...I feel you inside me. A part of me sees you, sees Vilandra, and it feels at home. Am I afraid of Vilandra? No. I know that Isabel is an equal part of you, and that Isabel is just as strong as Vilandra. Together you make a whole. Isabel alone would’ve never come back from all she did to herself for over five years, but it was the strong will of Vilandra that wanted to survive. Don’t think that Isabel isn’t strong too, because she holds Vilandra at bay.”

“You can’t know that.”

“Yes, I can.” Alex rested his head on her knees. “For the longest time, I’ve dreamt of Vilandra as you sleep. You see her, don’t you?”

Isabel’s hands moved through his hair. “Yes. I see her. I see my world as it was. I see Kivar. I remember some things. I remember…”

“What?”

“I remember the hate and the rage.” She sniffed as another tear chased down her cheek. “It was what I felt when my parents died. Injustice. Hate. Rage. Anger. Remorse.” She lifted his face from her knees. “It was Vilandra and how she felt, that made me so reckless, driftless, and angry.”

“No. It was both of you. Her rage and anger, and your sorrow and pain. Together they almost destroyed you.” Alex looked intently at her, with dark eyes glassy and piercing, “Will you let them bring you down again?”

Isabel shook her head. “I don’t know.” She bit her lip and looked up at the ceiling. “I’m confused. Who am I? Who am I going to be? The ‘me’ I thought I knew isn’t who I am.”

Alex nodded. “Then it’s time.” He held out his hand to her. “Come dream with me. I’ll be your anchor. It’s time for you to meet yourself, all of yourself, and taste the strength that I feel flowing in your veins.” He leaned close and rested his forehead against hers. “Don’t be less than you are. Don’t be afraid.”

“I love you, Alex. I remember Kivar, but I love you.”

“Sleep with me. Take me into your dream.”

Isabel stepped back confused. “I don’t know if I can do that.”

Alex took her hand and led her to the bed. “You do it every night. I’ve seen Antar.” Alex pulled her to him as he sat on the bed, his hand reaching up to remove her robe and pull her into the bed with him as he lost his shoes, and quickly took off his shirt. “Even the devil has two faces. You can’t fear nature. You have to learn to understand it. Use it. Control it. Running never did anything for you, Isabel. You can run all you want, but sooner or later you’re exactly where you started.”

“What are you afraid of, Alex?”

Alex’s jaw flexed and hardened. “That I’ll be too late. That it will get past me, and I’ll lose you like I lost Kristin. I’m not always an honorable man, but I know who my family is, and I protect them. I protect you.”

“Why haven’t you asked me to marry you? Is it because of her?”

Alex kissed her softly on her lips. “Dream with me, and I’ll tell you.”

~~~

In her dream, Isabel was standing at the water’s edge. The air was dense and heavy. The sky cloudless, hot, with red reaching from horizon to horizon as steam rose from the water. Standing with her back to him, she felt his presence.

“I wondered when you would come, Vilandra.”

“I’m not Vilandra. My name is Isabel.”

The man reached for her, turning her to face him. Strange. Her eyes assessed his face, lined and creased with age and weariness. There was a toughness to his skin. There was nothing to this man that was compassionate or gentle.

Against her will, Isabel’s hands wandered to his cheeks. “Is this your natural appearance?”

“No. It is not. My form in your dream is as you imagine I would appear, much the same way that your dreams of Vilandra look like your current appearance. Your human mind can’t conceive of our image, since it has no frame of reference.”

“I feel…”

“Me. You feel me.”

“How is that so?”

Kivar laughed, and he took Isabel’s hand and led her from the water’s edge. “Strange that you should dream of water, making it blue in a world which has a red spectrum. Your human notions are hard set in your mind.” Kivar turned and pulled Isabel to him roughly, his arms enfolding her tightly. “This, my Queen, is your domain. My heart. My reign. My crown. I give it to you, if you come to me. Freely.”

“I’m human. I have no presence to live on your worlds. No ambition to rule.”

Kivar laughed. “You think? Ah, my little Isabel... How many nights have I traveled into your dreams even before you were aware of my presence?” He wound his hand tightly in her hair, yanking her head back to take his brutal kiss. Isabel moaned deep in her throat, impassioned against her will at his touch. “See how she loves me? Longs for me? Longs for the master’s touch?”

Isabel ripped herself from his arms, her breast heaving in a flurry of panic and excitement. Shaking her head, she denied everything. Anything. “How is it that I know your touch?”

Kivar strung his fingers through her hair. He laughed cruelly. “Do you think I do not know you? I touched your dreams years ago. I planted needs and desires...along with a touch of cruelty. I want my mate back, not trapped in a whiny human shell. Did you think all those men using you sexually was really your choice?” He stepped closer. “My fondest memory was the first time I raped you up against a garage receptacle, Isabel, while you were too drunk and incoherent from drugs to resist. The stink of your body was polluted by the seed of my unwilling host, and the pile of putrid material clinging to your skin.”

Isabel stepped back in shock. “You? That was you?” She shook her head violently in denial. It couldn’t be. “I…I was sick in my mind. Grieved!”

“You were more than that, my Vilandra. You were destructive, manipulative, and lustful. You never once protested, not even when I used your mouth repeatedly. Taking you sexually was the only physical hold I could keep on you, while my invasions into your dreams kept you pursuing more and more abusive substances to make the voices stop.” Kivar kissed her again, as she pulled back and away in anger. “You, my beauty, were always, what I believe you call high maintenance,’ hard to tame, and just as demanding in bed. You liked mating to be a little rough, full of the violence and blood. How many nights did you become addicted to sex, and beg me to take you again? I lost count.” Kivar searched her face. “I’ve been lonely this last year or so in Earth time. You found a way to banish me from your dreams and from your life. Even as a Walker, I could no longer find you when you hid from your true nature. Did you think I would walk away so easily? Did you think I would give up?”

“What is it that you want from me?” Isabel asked, horrified by meeting him, and afraid of the answer.

“I want you to give me back my Granilith, and my Vilandra, my Queen.”

Then Kivar led Isabel to the site of a raging battle. They stood in the middle of the armed conflict.  Isabel glanced furtively at Kivar, but he was gone. Turning quickly, she tried to find him in the chaos. Her feet burned from the heat of the ground. Looking down at them, she realized that it wasn’t the ground that burned; it was the blood. She stood ankle deep in it. It seered like the rage of ages from where she stood upward into her veins.

“Remember who you are. What you were.”

Isabel looked down at herself. Her body was clothed in a light armor, speckled and spotted with the blood the dying. The blood of the living. She felt a rush. Behind her came a charge. The grunting of the tumultous battle went on around her as if activated from slow motion to fast forward. Suddenly a warrior was coming toward her with his sword drawn. Isabel, without thought or pause, drew a sword from a sheath she hadn’t even realized she carried, and rallied. The power was intoxicating as the warrior’s blow was parried. The might of it hit her blood and sang. Power. God, so much power! How was she to know that it would taste like salt to the tongue? Sugar to the blood?

The battle grew and escalated and so did she. The blood of her father and her brother, Rath, burned in her veins as she waded into it, slashing a path in her wake. The bodies piled at her feet, as she created a refuge of death.

“Now do you feel it, my Queen? Do you feel the weight of your blood singing in your veins?”

Isabel stood heaving with her sword in hand, covered in the smell of death. “Yes! I can feel it! I know this feeling…”

“It is power! Unfiltered. Unhindered. Attenuated and surging! Surge in me! Join with me, your true mate!” Kivar urged, suddenly again at her side in that field of death.

Isabel could taste the blood in the salt of power in her mouth, flooding her body. She wanted…

“Isabel!”

Her name sounded across the field pulsing in the heat of the battle among the last dying moans of the fallen.

“Isabel!”

“Vilandra! I’m Vilandra!” Isabel screamed in answer, giving the part of her she always kept suppressed a chance to breathe.

Kivar laughed. He had won. His. She would be his again…

“No, she is her own. Isabel... Vilandra... Isabel, my love.”

Vilandra circled the field, and seeing Kivar, her eyes narrowed in anger. “You killed me! You!” She could feel it from start to finish. He had walked to her in the citadel. As he promised, he had come for her as she opened the gates to his armies. Her brother, Zan,  lay dead. The great Zan was gone, and he, Kivar, walked into the room too late. Kivar, her mate, her lover, entered the room accompanied by the sneering Nicolas. Nicolas, who had sold her brother Kivar’s battle plans, betraying her and her mate with a promise of her… !!  She could feel the rape on her mind and body as Nicolas took her…the anger of his touch. The hate. Spite had a name. Zan was lost to them, as he was already slain. Kivar entered, and before she could say anything to him, Kivar’s blade was piercing her stomach and then her heart. He held her up as her lifeblood pooled on the floor, and stared into her eyes.  “You shall live again, my Queen. It is Destiny!”

Isabel felt the anger and rage of a thousand lifetimes rush in the veins she shared with Vilandra, as he who should have been her equal and mate, betrayed her to death. She fell to her knees with her hands over the wounds, watching as he stepped over her brother’s dead body and grabbed his Queen, that fawn, Ava. The last thing she heard in that life, as Kivar sat in her rightful throne, was an offer to Ava, the Queen, the wife and murderer of Zan, “You can rule at my side and give me an heir, my Queen.” Bastard! Betrayer! He offered that whore her rightful throne and position! He betrayed their love!

Kivar laughed as he saw the memories move through her eyes. So she knew. So his Vilandra was back. Her anger and hate would give her strength to fight the hold that her human half had over her nature.

“Yes!! Feel it! Feel the violent nature of your father’s father! Feel what is denied! Feel that part of you that belongs with me!” Kivar could almost taste his Vilandra as his mouth met hers brutally, mating in the battle covered in the blood.

“Isabel,” sounded that voice echoing the field, “Isabel…”

Vilandra pulled away, her mouth bleeding from where he bit her… As her eyes searched the battlefield, she could hear that voice calling her name, her other name! The voice that sang in her blood like a trumpet of war.

“Isabel.... Isabel....”

She could taste the name like a triumph, a prickling of her skin, as her inner Isabel reached to respond to the call. Vilandra felt the love and longing, the desire for someone who was like her. The caller of the name felt like desire.

She pushed Kivar aside. He was once her great love, but he was as weak as her brother, Zan. He yoked her essence to his benefit, used her inner self and strength, her warrior’s nature to battle, using her recommendations to rise to power, as her half that was a natural leader, a Queen, taught him diplomacy, sovereignty, and inspiring loyalty of ones followers. He had used her innate nature to be the true King of Antar, both a leader and a warrior.

She was more than a sum of her parts. She was each half of her brothers. Zan, the leader and King who could not rule effectively because he had no raging warrior in his veins, the very power that was prized and desired in a society that was founded on war, subjugation, and oppression. He had all the vanity of a King, but none of the enforcer’s arm. That part belonged to Rath. Rath had it all in spades, and more. He was stronger. Stronger than even Vilandra’s warrior spirit, but strangely a kinship of blood they shared of their father. Two parts of a whole. Rath and Zan together made a perfect King, but they could not find the way to work together, to join the two parts of their natures into one, to rule as One, the native King of a people who worshipped power.

That was who she was! A warrior King, trapped in a body that was denied its birthright to a throne that she alone could rule. She was a combination of both her brothers. The unified reality, both warrior and King.

“Isabel...”

Vilandra moved past her ex-lover and searched the battlefield. Her eyes finally found him. He had been there all along. He had been there in her last life, waiting for her to see him, feel him and recognize him.

Alexander. The Great. He, the warrior King, was standing high on the battlement above the fight with the dead he had slaughtered at his feet. In his hand was his sword, bright and red with blood, singing her name. Calling to her, Vilandra, in the name of Isabel, sounding the same to her because he could see no distinction…just the whole. He tasted in her blood. A siren song of lust and desire…of love. They were each other’s equal. Two destined to rule by might, war and blood.

Alex was coated in a light chainmail and armor. The chainmail hood covered his head, as his arm raised to slash through the thrall of bodies. He advanced undaunted and uncontested, slaughtering all that stood in his way as he took the field.  His long curling black hair lay in ringlets upon his skin and the chainmail, as the sweat of battle ran in salty rivulets like the sea of times, salted and clean. The strong arm of an enforcer, a protector of his realm and his people, walking with death at his side, resolutely accepting his own possible imminent death, laughing at it. Bring it on! As he waded through the blood and dead, covered in their dying stink and as he charged forward undaunted and unwavering. Never had she seen anyone more beautiful to gladden her eyes!

Suddenly she was no longer on that battlefield, or on Antar. She was in the desert of Earth, on a dream plane, with symbols littering the ground. She circled them, trying to understand their meaning with Kivar across from her.

“My Vilandra, come to me.”

“Isabel...”

She looked over to see Alex standing just feet away. He was dressed in black, his hand extended to her. “Isabel...”

“She is mine!” screamed Kivar, enraged at facing his replacement, the one who gave Isabel the strength to resist his invasion of her dreams and body. Alex. Alexander. It was a name he spat in spite. The dream that Isabel found that replaced all others, finally shutting the door on him, Kivar. Closing it firmly until she willfully opened it to see what was hidden inside.

“Isabel...” Alex called again, his voice echoing like a hot whisper across her skin. He turned and addressed Kivar with a cold calculating voice, “She belongs to no one except herself. All parts, joined in a perfect unity. Her choice! Her choice, not yours.”

Isabel gazed at the two men raging at each other. She felt them both, but there was a difference. Kivar was a feeling of knowing the past. Alex was the feeling of knowing the now, and a sense that was so familiar, since the moment she first laid eyes on him. It was the knowing, the seeing…the inner sight that recognized something very much like herself. They were the same. Warrior Kings. Those who ruled the day. Those who walked the field of blood and honor. A pristine fellowship.

Ignoring Kivar, Isabel walked to Alex. Her Alexander. Her King. Her mate.

“Who am I?”

Alex’s hand brushed the hair from her cheek, restraining it behind her ear. “You are yourself. You are in all things, my equal. My soulmate. There is no Isabel. There is no Vilandra. There is only you.”

Isabel smiled. Yes. She felt him, as she felt herself inside. A thousand lifetimes would not remove the lust of power from her veins, but there were different battles to forge, different worlds to conquer, not just those covered in blood and hate. There was a world of love waiting.

“Alex.”

~~~

“Alex!” Isabel screamed when she came out of the dream sitting up in the bed. Arms encircled her from behind and held her close. Alex. Isabel turned in his arms to stare at him in the dark room, and then her arms went around his neck holding onto him tight. Alex pulled them back into the bed. Isabel kissed him as she laid against him. Alex pushed his hands through her hair and followed her lead.

“You knew.”

“Yes.”

Isabel sat up in the bed. “How? How can you know more than I can remember?”

Alex sighed. He really had few words that could explain something that was almost unexplainable. His hand moved soothingly down her skin. “There are places inside me, places that only know two things. War. Sovereignty. My whole life has been spent ruling my world, Club Hell. My company. Even my family. I naturally rise to the top. My only regard is for the safety of those that I protect. My people in my Club. My family. It’s all I know. All I understand. It’s my very nature to fight. To rule. To defend. To protect.”

“You saw that in me?” Isabel couldn’t believe that. She was a monster. A hateful, conceited monster who opened the gates to the city, leading to her own family’s destruction, and even her own. It still hurt that Kivar murdered her. “What was it that you saw that made you not tell me?”

Alex picked up her hand and brought it to his mouth. “What was I supposed to do, Isabel? Tell you that you were a horror that you couldn’t live with? Convince you of that nature? No. That would never be the way. You had to search for it yourself. When you were ready. It was only a matter of time before it all came out. Not telling you borrowed you time. There was an forward momentum happening, but you,” Alex kissed her palm, “you, I could not stand to lose.”

“You left me alone all day yesterday worrying about it. Seething. Horrified.” Isabel sat up a little and looked at him. “Why?”

Alex sighed and closed his eyes. He was tired. So tired. “There’s only so much I can do to protect you, Isabel. It was time. I saw it coming. I knew that you would reason and be angry, but sooner or later you would turn it inward on yourself. You always do. Now we know that it wasn’t all about you being weak, but also Kivar pushing your unconscious mind. All those years weren’t just about you being pathetic and fragile, but about Kivar trying to awaken Vilandra inside you. He made a mistake.”

“What was that?”

Alex laughed as he framed her face, his thumbs brushing over her cheeks gently. “He never seemed to realize that you and Vilandra are not two separate entities, but rather the same. What makes Isabel Evans is  something uniquely human mixed with remnants of  Vilandra. You can’t separate the two of them from you; they work together to make you what you are. Strong. Compassionate. Forceful. Driven. Ambitious.”

Isabel smiled despite herself. She could feel the part of her that was Vilandra. It was powerful. Strong. It rushed in her veins like an elixir, one of thirst and hunger. It was the very will to live. Isabel closed her eyes and recalled the hatred and spite she felt for her brothers in her last life.

Thinking of both Michael and Max, a beautiful smile rushed across her face. In this reality they made her glad. They protected and cherished her. They were all she had in her life for so long, and not once had they let her down. Love. That was what it felt like. What she felt for them. They were as much a part of her body as all the other parts that made her who she was. She could never up give either of them. Perhaps she was closer to Max, simply because she had a lifetime sibling relationship with him. But Michael... Isabel laughed. He was something else. With Michael on her side, she knew she could never lose. Family. It was everything.

Looking at Alex, she could still see him standing tall on that high ridge against an alien sky. His long lean body covered in light chain armor and blood, his skin darkened by the smoke of war, as the dark black curls of his long hair clung to his neck in a mess of sweat and blood. He wasn’t a saint, or even an angel. He was a man who stood up to things, never flinched or turned away, and in that, he was as hard as he needed to be. He was someone like her. Like she used to be.

“Why haven’t you asked me to marry you? I thought you were going to the other night, but you pulled back.”

Alex flipped her over and under him, as he propped himself up on his elbow and carded his fingers through her hair. The silky long blonde strands moved seductively along the edges of his fingers. “I couldn’t.”

“Because of Vilandra?”

Alex smiled softly, he stared her straight in the eye. “No. Because I saw my own death. I saw myself stand in front of you, intercept a hit meant for you, and die.” He noted her startled reaction. “I couldn’t ask you, because I had no future.”

He had died for her. She felt his soul leaving when she instinctually placed her hand on him and healed him enough until Max could come and finish the job. That future was over. “And now?”

Alex laughed and leaned down to rub his nose against hers. “Now? Now I need time to readjust my thinking to living.” Alex picked up her hand and rubbed it across his face. “Time, my Isabel. Time is something we now have. So let’s not cheat ourselves of any part of it by rushing. You and me. It’s written in some star somewhere. Of that I’m sure.”

“In other words, you’re still worried.”

“The air. It hushes. That’s the worry.” Alex said simply.

~~~

“So what am I?”

“That’s a good question.” Jacob passed Maria the bag of caramelized nuts. “I’ve never seen anything like it. You even got my gradual students to learn, and believe me, that isn’t an easy task. And you know the kid, Dillon?”

“The cute one, all stylish and hip?”

“Um, yeah, him. He’s gay.”

“No! Are you sure?” Maria paused in munching on the nuts. “He solicited me. Actually he had some majorly good come-on lines.” She grabbed another handful. “Imagine that! Gay guys must have all the right moves.”

“No, actually the man has no moves. He’s too shy. Can hardly get a date. He comes to me like a mentor at times, and that’s his biggest complaint.”

“Are you sure?” Maria looked Jacob up and down. “Maybe he has a crush on you.”

“Please! I am so not gay!”

Maria laughed, amused, as she pushed her sunglasses back on her nose noticing a few things of interest in the open market where they were shopping.

“Really, it’s the hippie, Jim Morrison look that has people confused, but I think my track record with women speaks for itself.”

Maria snorted. “You never know! Michael’s partner was biggest skirt chaser, and I mean the biggest! And he’s currently in a devoted relationship with a man. His first homosexual relationship, and it’s more monogamous than any of his hetero ones.”

“Are you saying I’m in denial?”

Maria popped some nuts into her mouth. “I’m just saying...”

Jacob laughed. “Well, stop! Next thing I know, I’ll be sizing up men for dates. I suggest that you be careful how you suggest things to people anyway.”

Maria was suddenly serious. “You noticed it too?” She looked around and spotted a coffee shop. Pulling her friend’s hand, they were soon inside and sitting down with steaming mugs of coffee, Maria’s being decaffeinated.

“Hard to miss, M. You just pushed my hard learners into learning stuff that took me months trying to teach them. They stayed at my place over six hours after group just to talk to you! You’ve got that Dillon kid writing you love poetry, and he’s gay!”

“So what are you saying?”

Jacob moved forward, suddenly excited. “I’ve been giving this some thought, some serious thought!” He was literally bouncing on his chair. “I think you’re a vibrator.”

Maria paled. “Vibrator? Isn’t that something sexual? Um, I’m married! I only vibrate for one man.”

“Only you would immediately go there. Yes. But no! I’m talking about a person that emits vibrations. People feel them, respond to them, and that is what makes them respond to you.”

Maria’s eyes became glassy. Closing them she tried to remain calm. “I need to know. I really need to understand this, Jacob.”

“I don’t think it’s a bad thing, M. Why so wigged?”

Maria held her cup of coffee between her hands. “I need to be sure that Michael is truly in love with me, and not just responding to this ‘vibrating’ thing I do.”

Oh! Suddenly it was clear. Jacob sat back and looked intently at his longtime friend. “Maria, does Michael do everything you want him to, regardless of what he wants?”

“Hell no! He’s stubborn. Opinionated! He wrecks anything and everything on wheels. You tell him not to take risks, and he comes home with scrapes, bruises, busted ribs, head, and…” Maria paused at the smile gracing her friend’s face. “What?”

Jacob leaned forward. “Maria, if he was responding to your ‘vibrating’ personality only, he would be so utterly and completely captivated by you, that he would do your every bidding, dote after your every word, and he sure as hell wouldn’t be fighting with you and pissing you off!” He paused and smiled. “Is he letting you completely renovate the loft?”

“No. He talked me down in size. But the plans were so cool, and Stan had them all worked out! Michael had a good reason, and rationally I had to see his point, though God knows I tried to get him to agree...” Maria paused, and she suddenly smiled too. “But he didn’t. He wouldn’t give in, no matter how hard I tried.” She sat back in wonder as her words sank in and made sense of the nonsensical. “I can’t push him!”

“I suspect you can’t. As much as he needs you to focus this power you say he has…which by the way I completely do not understand, and I’d appreciate it someday if you’d explain it. I think he has an inner control to keep you from totally holding all the cards and pushing him beyond his boundaries. You’re each other’s check and balance, so neither one of you can hold all the power in your relationship. You both temper the other. Naturally.”

“Naturally...” Maria repeated. “How can that be?”

“Okay, let’s just imagine here for a moment…” Jacob waved his empty cup at the coffee wench, gesturing for two more. “Currently humans use what? Ten percent of our brains? There are parts of our brain potential that isn’t tapped into or even realized. The neuronal pathways are exquisite. The potential for innovation, learning, and even a drive to explore and question are ingrained. Imagine if you will, that in human evolution, these unrealized systems come into play.”

“An evolution of human thought? An increase in mental acuity?”

Jacob dumped a ton of sugar in his new coffee as Maria tossed some Tabasco in hers. “More than that! We already know that the human mind is capable of some astounding things. Healing by thought. People who can bend spoons with their mind, decrease their heart rate, and even change the color of their eyes. There are thousand of documented cases! Thousands!”

Maria tried to pay attention, but her amusement was getting the better of her as a smile pulled on her mouth at her friend’s enthusiasm. “You think you can cut to the chase here, Jacob?”

“Man, this is so slide! So off the charts! Think! Man evolves. He conquers his ability to mentally manipulate and control matter, energy, and even space. The ability to transform, transfer, and manipulate the physical world around him, even perhaps the brains of others is in his brain and body! Now add in our inherent nature to push forward, to conquer, and to be winners! Add in competition, all those vicious characteristics that helped us evolve upward and out of the primordial ooze.”

“So poetic!”

“You getting me, Clyde?”

“Baby, I’m following, but you need to cut the spittle and ranting and give me a straight path.”

Jacob held up his hand in peace, but his enthusiasm was still there. “Okay, okay. So say that man evolves into this power….his natural and native power... What keeps him from exploding himself and others in a thirst to transcend his physical bonds? Baby, someone will always be stronger. Someone will always be more talented. Beautiful. Shiny! What happens then? Who controls them? Who protects those not as strong, not as talented?”

“You’re suggesting infinite power unrestrained? Perhaps with increased mental acuity comes refined and increased morality, and social standards that dictate abuse and freedom from abuse?”

Jacob caught Maria’s hands. “M, good thought. Happy thoughts, but no.” He shook his head. “It’s against our nature totally. Is religion the opium of the masses or merely us hedging our bets in case there is a supreme being? Religion in primitive societies is a control, a morality play to control baser emotions. We’re more likely to annihilate ourselves in an uncontrolled manner than we are to find peaceable solutions. The ideas are there. The understanding is there. But power is corruptive, and it corrupts absolutely. The rule is that those of might oppress and annihilate those of lesser power, not because they have to, but because they can! Why do you think a society of protectors rose out of hunter and gatherer states as we moved towards more socialized forms? Did you know that the Praetorian guards of Caesar’s Rome, were the first organized police force? Decadence, lust for power, wealth and fame is an integral part of our makeup, as much as are our hearts, souls, and compassion. It’s nice to think that we can trust people to do the right thing, not to oppress and kill, maim or destroy in their wake, but historically, that’s not the case. Out of a need rise protectors. Men who push to suppress the violent instincts of those in power. Dictators. Tyrants. Men of evil often find their ways hindered by ordinary men rising to extraordinary principles. Those willing to risk everything for a cause, despite the cost! Men of valor. People of honor. They don’t protect because they must, or even because they can, but because it’s their nature.”

“Who are the Praetorians of this new age?”

“Exactly! Who are they? Are they thugs for a dictator who will abuse those below him? Kill his enemies? Destroy those who would oppress and overrun his borders? Or are they a new order, creat`ed to protect the innocents from those that would oppress? Hard to say. With power, great power, comes great responsibility, but Professor darling, who guards the guards? In Rome, the Praetorians rose to such great power, that they assassinated their own Caesar and put someone else in power. By the end of the Empire they were almost as corrupt as those they once opposed. A fine line runs between good and evil. Sometimes the grays smudge away the difference.”

Maria sat back. She was coming to understand that fine line of distinction, that need for a balance. She and Michael together were their own balance. Without it, without their humanity, what would they be? Powerful. Volatile. Enraged. Out of control. Violent. Escalating to untold levels. Rath. Rath was like that. “There would have to be a division of power.”

Jacob struck the table with the palm of his hand, rattling their cups and plates. “Exactly! Nature would create a release valve, a way to decrease building pressure. If man evolved his brain capacity to the point of manipulation of physical space and matter, then nature would create a way to temper and moderate that power.”

Maria’s throat felt dry. “Jacob, how about a division between two sects in society? Those who can control and manipulate raw power, energy and matter. They can do these tasks, perhaps one or two better than others…talents, say, to move matter, heal, manipulate thought, and other things. What if they can only do it at a limited basis on their own, but with a full use of their full talent, they need…?”

“The other segment of society. The control. A focus. Those who can mentally channel their thoughts in a fluid path to allow optimization. And should they push too hard, try to manipulate beyond what nature has designed…”

“The connection would be terminated by the focus, or if they couldn’t terminate the connection, then they would naturally burn out, like a light bulb.” Maria clicked her nail against her teeth.  “There would have to be more. What would keep a dominant power from imprisoning a power focus?” Michael couldn’t burn her out. She could hold him undaunted. “There must be a way for the focus to close the connection.”

“Somehow there probably would be. I can’t imagine right now how it would work, maybe just a changing of the frequency, a skewing of the balance would break the link. Either way, the power user is kept in control.” Jacob looked at Maria. “That means that both segments would be vibrators. Oscillating mentally at a certain level, a level that is complimentary to their natural counterpart.”

“How would it start?” Maria asked, scowling at the fingernail she had just chewed off.

“The way all things start. One born for another. Exclusive and mutual cohabitation. Once more and more segments become evolved to the balance, I bet it resettles so it becomes power levels. A strong power needing a strong focus, and a weaker power being able to use a weaker focus or even the stronger focus.” Jacob moved closer. “Maria, power has many faces. Active and passive. The natural dichotomy of living. A yin and a yang. Light and dark. Good and evil. Male and female. Sometimes a passive power is the more insidious, because it goes unrealized.”

Maria’s throat hurt. “Explain.”

“This is all conjecture. Nothing is real. But imagine a strong focus, a real mental vibrator. The passive focus has to be mental if they offer a clarity of thought and a channeling of talent. They have to be able to control their counterpart to some extent, perhaps with suggestion, a voice, or even a special modulation of sound. Something that appeals, clears the thoughts, and….”

“You’re talking harmonics!”

Jacob nodded. “Absolutely. Certain tones can clear a sinus. People use them for subliminal messaging. People hear at different ranges, and see at different spectrums ranging from infra-red to ultraviolet. There are tones and shades that our brain perceives, but consciously we have no name or understanding. Our brain does! Just because you can’t see air mean it doesn’t exist?”

“So this focus perhaps resonates at a special frequency. One that’s indiscernible at a conscious level, but effects a change.” Maria could feel a moisture collecting on her lip. “Jacob, who controls this person? Their voice or even suggestions could push an unknown person to do things.”

“Like make them more receptive to learning, Maria?”

Maria nodded, but what if it was more dangerous than that? “What if this person is evil, and they push a very powerful person to use their powers for evil?”

Jacob seemed to be thinking about it.

“What if they’re effecting changes that no one knows about, and they take control of powerful people?” Maria’s voice wavered at the idea of that much power held by one person.

Jacob nodded. “I understand! That means nature would have to create a safety valve for them too! One focus born for one power user. A one on one, Maria. That must be the control. The focus can’t push the person with power, and the person with power can’t use their power irresponsibly without burning out their focus, or the focus ending the connection.”

Maria closed her eyes as her mind whirled. She couldn’t focus Max. Only Michael. She couldn’t push Michael to her will with a suggestion. He could only use his full power with her help. “We’re talking theoretically here, right?”

“Of course! But imagine this, Maria, if any of this is true, then the genes must already be in play! Genetically it already must be determined who will be those with talents of power, and those with talents to focus it. The more advanced we become, the more prominent those genetics will be. Sooner or later, nature will select for them to rise, so as they slowly begin to surface with each generation, we should see a segment of society of ‘teachers’ versus ‘doers’.

Jacob paused. He could tell Maria was disturbed. She wasn’t giving away much, but he had met Michael Guerin. It wasn’t hard to make ends meet. “Maria, why would you, a natural focus, be born before our species is ready to make that leap? Why?”

Maria shook her head. She didn’t know. That was her question. What was burning behind her eyes, was the idea that Michael being alien, created her, thereby giving her a boost upward in human evolution. There was a need to know why she was born to be what she was, before her time.

Jacob took her hand. “It’s because your equal, natural mate was born. A power of great magnificence. He was born. So you were born. Nature selected for this advancement. Evolution is not a forward process, but a process designed to keep a system at equilibrium. He was born, and the system would’ve been unbalanced if his natural focus and mate wasn’t born at the same time.”

“Why? Why was he born? Natural need or contrived?” Did the aliens, by interfering in human evolution and introducing themselves back into human societies, create a cause…a need? Or was it the alieness in Michael that gave her that final boost pushing her genetics upward in evolution?

“In a time of great need, there comes an innovative solution. Necessity breeds convention.”

Maria rubbed her eyes. They were who they were because this world, this time, needed them to be. They were part of the Balance. How to confirm this? Is this what was happening to her? She was a teacher by trade, always with a good success rate, but recently that rate had increased exponentially. Her students were more receptive, willing to listen, learn and understand. Her home was invaded by people who thought they were in love with her, who sought her out for advice, or just to talk. These people were instinctually seeking a powerful focus for their innate power. If it was a predestined mating, one focus for one powerful talent, then Michael was her natural mate. She was born for him and him alone, as he was born for her. That fit into the Destiny that the aliens believed in and followed.

“How do we test this potential?”

Jacob slapped his hands together loudly and excitedly. “I thought you’d never ask! I’ve got some ideas.”

“Ideas?” Maria could feel a trickle of sweat on her brow. The babies stirred at her unease.

“Tests.” Jacob’s stare was unwavering and Maria could feel a rising trepidation. “Special experiments to test harmonics and frequencies.”

“Tests? What kind of tests? On me?” Jacob smiled. Maria’s unsure smile wavered as a frown marred her face. “You realize that I’m pregnant, right? Right, Jacob?”

“This won’t hurt. Trust me.”

“Oh, now I feel so much better! Trust him, he says. He’s making me his experimental guinea pig, and he wants me to trust him.”

Jacob patted her hand and started to outline what they could do to test her abilities.

~~~

Darkness came late in September as the summer solstice held back the night. The summer heat lingered long into the night, penetrating from the very sand of the deserts. It was late.

The two of them were certainly a picture, lying together in the dark, both sound asleep. Maria stared down at them. Michael was disheveled as he lay on the sofa with the cat, who was in the crook of Michael’s arm on his back, with his front paws in the air, bent at the wrists. Both were softly snoring. Maria noticed the pile of pizza boxes and empty beer bottles. Michael was unshaven and looked tired and worn.

Brushing her fingers along Michael’s cheek, she smiled at the sweep of his long lashes against the tip of her nail. Sleeping Handsome. The Guerin Body. There it was, all defenseless, begging to be taken advantage of and used. Maria leaned down and softly kissed him, her mouth touching his lips gently as he slept. She felt the moment he stirred and came awake. Moving back a little, their eyes met in the gloom.‘

“Hi,” she said breathlessly.

Michael held himself still, his eyes searching her face as if he were uncertain what to say. Maria moved her hand up his chest, curling her hand around his neck, as her eyes dropped to his mouth. God, she was hungry for him! Forever. It felt like forever. As her mouth touched his again the moan was a soft movement of breath, as she could taste him in the very air. Michael’s mouth was soft and opening as he let her kiss him, not pushing an advantage.

“Hi,” he said breathlessly.

Maria straightened up from where she sat beside him on the sofa and her action woke Mr. Booboo. He made his complaint about her absence heard in a loud meow as he bumped his head against hers, and then started to purr. She petted the soft coat of her black, sometimes calico, very neurotic cat before he took off. Now that she was back he didn’t have to spend so much time keeping the other one company. He needed a raise. Something in the area of braised chicken livers. Yes. That should compensate nicely for all the care he had had to give his other pet, so devastated by her absence. After all, he was a busy cat. He had a lot on his plate, not all of it being food. His territory had been neglected. Oscar, that ingrate, had taken to stringing webs everywhere and holing up in underground tunnels. Yes, he was busy. Very, very busy indeed.

“Looks like you two had a party.”

Michael shrugged. He didn’t consider a pity party anything worth remembering or mentioning.

“I need to say something to you.”

Michael’s golden brown eyes were unwavering as they met hers. “What?” He didn’t care, just as long as she didn’t leave again.

Moving the hair from his face, her fingers stroked the soft stubble on his cheek. “I’m sorry.”

Michael didn’t say anything. He didn’t move. Hardly breathed. Waiting, he let her finish.

“My going to Phoenix had nothing to do with the argument. I had already taken care of that in my mind. This was something else. Our fight helped it along, opened the door and I had to know. I needed to know.”

“Know what?” He could hardly force the air into his lungs. To keep calm, his hand went out to touch his children. He had already felt them reaching for him, but touching her stomach was like a shock to his system. He felt like crying. Though he knew she wasn’t leaving him, their home had felt dead and lifeless without her. The bed upstairs had remained empty since he couldn’t sleep in it without her.

“I’ll tell you. I promise. But first, this is more important. I broke a rule.”

Michael nodded. She had. An important rule. One of the first rules they made.

“Rule three. Never leave a fight unresolved for more than twenty-four hours. Right or wrong, we talk before bedtime.” Maria kissed him again. “I broke that. I’m sorry.” Before he could respond, she stopped him with her finger on his lips. “Let me finish. About the fight. You were right. I was wrong.”

Michael couldn’t take his eyes from her.

“I was wrong. I forgot that some roads once traveled are not open to a person anymore. You know the line and how far you can go. I don’t. For me there are no consequences, so I forget to look at the cost. The cost to me, even to you. I was wrong. I was a brat about it, and I’m sorry.” Maria kissed him again softly. “I can’t promise that I’ll never step over that line again, but I promise to try not to do it again.”

Michael’s hands went up into her hair to frame her face. He nodded and brought her mouth back to his in a kiss that was anything but gentle. After over two days without her, he could barely remember the fight. Everything else was fading as she moaned in his mouth and their tongues and breath mated. Maria pulled away panting, her eyes dark and sparkling from a charged energy. He could feel it along his skin. It took his breath away. Standing, she offered him her hand, and Michael gave it, letting her pull him up. They went upstairs.

Maria didn’t stop in the bedroom, still a wreck from her hasty departure. The room was as she left it. Later. She would atone for that later, but now she had to take care of him. Running a hot bath, Maria turned and slowly removed his clothing.

“God, baby! Tell me you haven’t slept in these same clothes for two days!”

“Three.”

Maria made a soft meowing noise of distress under her breath. “Do I make you miserable?” She hadn’t wanted that. It was why she called him and told him where she was.

“I missed you.” Michael said simply, as if that said it all. Maria got him in the bath. He held her hand, “Join me.”

“I will in a few moments. It’s too hot for me and the babies right now.” Kissing his head, she went over and grabbed a warm hand towel off the heating bar, his shaving kit, and quickly lathered up his shaving soap. Coming back, she sat on the edge of the bathtub, took the spray and wet his hair, taking her time washing it. Michael sighed deeply and let her take care of him. Closing his eyes, he rested as her hands massaged his scalp. She towel dried his hair after it was clean to remove some of the excess moisture, then placed his head back to rest on the edge of the bath against the wall. Then she leaned down and kissed him passionately.

“Maria…”

“Shhhhhh...” Maria took the shaving mug and coated his face after wetting it with warm water. Taking the straight blade, she slowly shaved him, concentrating on the sensitive skin of his cheeks and neck. She could feel his gaze like heat on her skin, but she ignored him with difficulty, intent on the task at hand, careful not to nick him. Finally she finished, wiping the last of the whiskers and foam from his skin with the towel and then rinsing his face. “Close enough?”

Michael felt his face, now free of hair. “You tell me.”

Maria leaned down and rubbed her cheek against his. “Close enough.” Moving back, they stared at each other for a moment. “I like you close.” She softly drew his bottom lip into her mouth and sucked on it. “I like you a little ragged and on edge, too....” deepening the kiss... “but, I don’t like you unhappy.” She stroked his clean-shaven cheek. “I’m sorry, baby.”

“Make it up to me.” Michael suggested.

Maria smiled slightly and then stood up and slowly removed her clothing as he watched, her tongue coming out to wet her lips. Michael sat up farther to give her a hand into the bath.

“I want to take the back,” Maria said.

“Nope. Front. I need to hold you and the babies.”

Maria nodded and settled into the large bath with him, sighing in contentment. She had missed him too. She watched his hands moving the warm perfumed water over her skin as he stroked her pregnant stomach. Her eyes closed as she watched the movement of color over her skin, as the children reached outward to join with their father. Maria moaned. Clearing all thought, she reached for him, offering him a link with her mind. The greedy rush of power through the matrix surged through her veins like a wildfire.

“God! I need to tell you things...” Maria said breathlessly, her mouth and hands moving over his body in a frenzy, as his skin heated under her touch.

“Later... Tell me later.... I’ve things to tell you too.” Michael said huskily. Too long. Too many days.