Imminence Page 2

  Nevertheless, Marie is always completely fair and just. Even at a very young age she had defended her friends against bullying from bigger children. Her fists poised, she would often rise to face boys many years older than herself, and thus had ended up coming home nearly every day with her face dirty and her hands scraped. Her torn clothes and determined expression had warned others from a distance not to laugh at her. I knew the bigger children never seriously hurt her and I had never gotten involved. I also knew they thought Marie irresistible.

  CHAPTER 2

  I watch Marie slowly beginning to wake up. Her eyes flutter a few times restlessly and then her big, deep eyes are staring at me. In a blink Marie gets up and stands in the middle of the room in her too-large T-shirt. Her thin, long legs make her look like a colt. Regardless, everything about her transmits how well she controls her body. The countless hours in a dance studio have not gone to waste.

  “Mother,” she sighs and relaxes.

  “Is it time to get up already? I´ll rest a little while yet.”

  Before I’ve had the chance to answer, she has climbed back to bed and I hear a deep sigh from underneath the feather duvet. I gently stroke her silky hair. Marie is so sweet and I’m frightened to death for her. Marie had succumbed to a very serious case of encephalitis at the age of six. No one had been able to explain why she had become sick. I had been sure it was connected to what I am. I’d been sure she’d been about to transform, but in the end no transformation had occurred. She’d had to spend months in intensive care and her small body had seemed to fade away by the weeks. Strong convulsions had shaken her and no medications had seemed to be working. Everything possible had been attempted and various doctors had tried to figure out what was wrong with her. Nothing had been found and she had finally had to be placed on the ventilator in a state of induced coma. We had been in shock. Clarissa had refused to visit the hospital and I had been so close to telling David the truth about myself. I‘d been ravaged with guilt and I’d been so sure that Marie would transform any minute. She had been at the perfect age for transformation.

  After months of torture I’d had a chance to catch my breath. Marie had started recovering and had been transferred from intensive care to a normal ward, where a rehabilitation program had been commenced. Marie had still suffered from serious convulsions and had had to swallow several drugs from morning to night. She’d had to relearn everything. She hadn’t been able to eat or move independently. She hadn't known who we were. We’d had to teach her to recognize us again. We had taught her who our relatives and friends were, where we lived, where her room was and what her things were. We had been endlessly proud of her, as the pain in her eyes had been evident to us, but she had still continued to persevere. It hadn't taken long until she’d been able to walk short distances and her speech had begun to improve. Still, the doctors had been cautious. Nobody had known how permanent her situation was and we all had known she could relapse at any stage. No medications had worked for her and even though we had looked abroad for a cure, one hadn’t been found. The seizures had continued.

  For six years, we had fought for Marie’s life. She had put on weight and her movements had become very laborious. All her old friends had felt strange in her presence and she had been really isolated. Luckily she hadn’t been fully aware of what had been happening around her, as I think she would have lost her will to live and her fighting spirit had she realized how unwell she was. Marie had lived on borrowed time for six years. Then something unexpected had happened. The medication had finally seemed to be working. She had started losing weight and her mobility had improved. For almost two years I had waited for a relapse. It had felt like Marie was cured overnight. Marie had started attending dance lessons and living her life like there was no tomorrow. No relapse had ever come and now she is fourteen years old. A beauty of almost fifteen. The only reminders of her difficult illness are the scars on her abdomen and neck and the huge pile of medications she has to take daily. I fear for her. If she had ever gotten part of my inheritance, no one would be able to predict her future. All I can do is thrust my fears somewhere in the back of my mind, and wait.

  I press a gentle kiss on Marie’s sleepy cheek and she wraps her arms tightly around me.

  “You´re the best mom,” she murmurs.

  My throat constricts. I ruffle her hair and prompt her to get up.

  Marie is making noise in the bathroom and I’m cooking breakfast for her. Two hard-boiled eggs and toast with cheese, liver paté, and mayonnaise. Yuck. I don’t even dare to imagine what the liver paté and mayo combo tastes like, but Marie loves it. She also loves dipping cheese puffs in Coca Cola and mixing ketchup with cereal. Whenever Marie is cooking, people tend to vacate the kitchen in a hurry.

  After a while I hear her jumping upstairs and singing at the top of her voice and out of tune to Black and White. I smile and make a cup of tea. Marie is so full of life. She loves and hates wholeheartedly. No one ever truly knows what mood she is in. She can burst into tears for very peculiar reasons or laugh helplessly at jokes no one else gets. Her laughter is incredible. It’s infectious to everyone around; it arises so true and honest from deep within her heart. It bubbles and foams and no one is safe from it.

  “Mom! It´s Friday today!” She shouts from upstairs.

  Marie loves Fridays. Friday is definitely the best day of the week because it signifies the beginning of the weekend. Two whole days to be spent in the dance studio! Can there be a more magnificent way of spending the weekend?

  “Marie, come down at once! We´re really late already!” I shout back, my voice full of laughter. Surely no one can resist that unreserved happiness about the weekend.

  CHAPTER 3

  I took Marie to school and started driving towards the nearest town. I didn't really want to go to the city, but I had to restock our food supplies and the little village shops near our home didn’t offer much choice. As I had to drive so far anyway, I decided to have a look around the other stores at the shopping mall. However, I was feeling so restless after the previous night’s experience that I found it difficult to relax and enjoy my day off. I made myself try on some spring clothes but I couldn't decide what I wanted. All the while, my mind was shadowed by the thought that I was being watched. I sat down on a bench in the corridor in order to observe my surroundings, but I couldn’t find anything unusual. Still, I had the unpleasant feeling that I wasn't alone. My neck bristled and my senses picked up on something new, but try as I did, I could not grasp it. I continued trying on clothes and a few times I was sure that someone was standing behind the door of the fitting booth. I attempted opening the door suddenly, but there was never anybody behind it besides the sales clerk or another customer, who looked at me in confusion. I felt really silly.

  At last I reached a shop where I had always been able to find something that suited me. Today was no different; their selection didn't let me down. I found a beautiful black jersey dress with sleeves adorned with long silk ribbons that could be tied into a bow. On the waist there were similar black ribbons that could be tied around the hips or at the back. I was excited and forgot my unpleasant feelings. I twirled around in the booth, admiring the dress. The small cubicle didn’t allow me to see the dress from every angle so I stepped outside. At once I spotted two young men, who were obviously staring at me. Both men were tall and lean and about twenty to twenty-five years old. One had longish light brown hair and a stunning tan. He looked like a surfer and had it not been only the early days of spring I would have expected him to spend his days on the beach rather than in the mall. The other man looked like he had a black Harley Davidson waiting outside the shop and might stride out of the shop any minute to join a passing motorcycle gang. He had black hair and very dark, almost black eyes. He was dressed in a black leather jacket and trousers, and he wore cut-up black leather gloves. He was looking at me in a very hungry way and when I touched his mind I sensed pure craving. It was not sexual; it was rather as if I were a highly
coveted possession or a prize which he had to have.

  I slowly backed into the cubicle and closed my eyes. Surely I had to be losing my mind. The previous night’s anxiety and fear returned. I took deep breaths until my pulse slowed down. I opened my eyes and stepped out of the cubicle again. I hadn't imagined it, this was real. Both men were still hanging close to the fitting booths, but they had now been joined by two others. The newcomers were noticeably younger and had arrived due to curiosity rather than any other motive. I could sense how their minds were filled with hundreds of questions and how they were itching to approach me. The younger men’s excitement was different from that of the two others; there was nothing threatening or frightening about it and I found myself taking a step towards them. At the same time, the black-haired man moved towards me and turned his black eyes on me. His every muscle tense, he slowly approached me.

  “Carson a tha eagal ort?” he said in a low, rough voice. I looked at him in fear. His eyes seemed to be filled with the smoke from hell. For each step he took towards me, I took one backwards.

  “Carson a tha eagal ort? Cha chaomh e cron ort idir,” he barked. I had no idea what he was saying. The words and the language felt familiar, but my mind was unable to understand a word. My brain refused to function, as if my thoughts had been packed into a heavy wooden armoire. I knew I was meant to understand him, but no matter how hard I tried I couldn't interpret the words.

  “I cannot understand you. Are you lost? Can I help you?” I asked, confused.

  He grinned, beast-like, and the other men smiled. I couldn't back away much further than a few steps and my back would hit the wall. I had to quickly decide what to do next. I experimentally took a few steps sideways. The men were already very close. A few strides and the black-haired one could grab me. I took a few more steps. The men stopped. Even though it was noisy in the shop, I could hear their breathing and sense the impatience underneath their relaxed exterior.

  “Feuch, Sofia,” the men were saying.

  “Feuch,” the black-haired man repeated.

  I was totally confused. This seemed like a B-class movie, a very bad one, and I could've laughed at this but I dared not. My head was beginning to ache and I felt as if I were feeling my way around in a fog. I was close to grasping the words and could almost understand them, but when I felt the fog lift, I lost my grip again. What did this mean? Who were these men? They weren't my nightly threat, I was quite sure of that. I had a relatively clear idea who was looking for me, whose mind was trying to find me last night, and I was completely certain I would recognize him no matter what shape he chose. I was getting ready to run when the black-haired man rushed to me and took my arm roughly. He shook me and shouted at me. I saw the shop guards approaching the men, but they made no move to run.

  “Feuch! Sofia! Feuch!” The man was shouting and I found myself screaming back at him.

  “Stop! I am trying!”

  It became completely silent. I noticed I could really understand these men. Now that the fog surrounding my thoughts had dissolved, my head was filled with noise. I realized I could hear what the men were thinking, all of them, and that I understood them perfectly. We could share our thoughts and converse without speaking a word. Amazing. They were like me. Shape shifters. It had been nearly two hundred years since I‘d had anything to do with other shape shifters. Especially with the kind who were born as wolves, like myself. I had consciously been running away from them so that he could never again find me. I had thrust Gaelic deep into the recesses of my mind and hadn’t dared use it since the day I’d left him. Moreover, I had not delved into the minds of other people until last night and it didn’t come easily to me right away – otherwise I’d have recognized them immediately, long before they came close to me.

  Now that my mind had opened up again, I noticed I was able to control it easily. I could share my mind with the other shape shifters if I wanted to, but I could also block them completely. I could talk to them in many languages but Gaelic was the easiest to us all. I didn't know where they had learnt it or who had taught them, but they mastered it perfectly. I was curious, as none of them seemed to be old enough to be descended from my mother’s lineage. I did not know if Farkas or Gur, my mother’s brothers, had found themselves new spouses and passed the ability to shape shift on to their descendants. It felt unlikely that my parents would have managed to produce a new litter of shape shifters, but I couldn't know that for sure and the idea frightened me. Had I made the wrong choice when completely deserting my family? Could I adapt and connect with these young shape shifters? I had to know more about them.

  I was still afraid. I didn't know at all what these men wanted from me. I knew now that they understood my language completely. The only way of waking the memories in my mind was to force me to speak the language I had used throughout my childhood. The language my mind would never forget. My mother’s tongue, Gaelic. The words were now flowing easily back to me and I wanted to ask the men about so many different things. But the guards were getting close and the men scattered swiftly, disappearing into the maze of the mall. I went to the check-out and paid for my purchases. I spent the rest of the day wandering around the shopping center and trying to locate the men. I sensed that they were still there and at times I felt their black eyes staring threateningly from the darkness. However, the men did not show themselves again and in the end I had no choice but to head back home.

  CHAPTER 4

  I was totally exhausted. I dragged myself up the stairs and acknowledged faintly how quiet our house was. On the table there was a note saying that the girls had decided to go and stay with David’s parents for at least one night. Perfect. I needed some time alone and as it was so late, I knew David would be in a deep sleep. The events of the day in the shopping center had taken all my strength. I’d had time to think of many things during my drive back home. I couldn't understand who the men were and how it was possible that my instincts hadn't warned me about them. The appearance of so many shape shifters in the same place at the same time ought to have rung at least some kind of a primal alarm in my head. The only reason I could think of for this was that the men belonged to his pack. No doubts about it.

  He had finally found me, but I couldn't understand how it was possible. How had he found me now? For almost two centuries I had managed to escape him. I had been extremely careful and covered all traces of my shape shifts. After he lost his mind and started hunting human children I had not been in Sweden. Not once, even though every cell of my being longed for the uninhabited forests of Sarek. I longed to run in the hills for days on end and to hunt prey. To wander on the steep hills and to enjoy the stillness of the hours before dawn. I longed for the solitude that was only broken by the call of an owl or the sound of its wings when it flew over the surface of a calm forest pool. I longed to drink from mountain streams and to frolic with my pack. To breathe the dazzlingly clean air and to be free from all the restrictions of human life.

  I sighed and shuffled to the bathroom for a wash. I threw all my clothes carelessly to the floor. I stepped into the shower and let hot water pour all over me. I wanted to remove all traces of him before snuggling into David’s warm arms. I dried myself and slipped into our bed. David was already deeply asleep, as I had thought. Thankfully so, as I wasn't in the mood to explain the day’s events or the reason I had come home this late. I slid my naked body against David’s and closed my tired eyes. My head was already throbbing but I tried to prevent the impending ache by gently massaging my forehead. David moved closer to me and wrapped his arms around me. I tried to relax, but the events of the day were rolling in my mind and I felt restless. It felt like everything was not in its right place.

  “David,” I whispered tenderly. For a reply I only got incomprehensible mumbling.

  “David,” I repeated, a bit louder. I heard a low rumble close to my ear.

  I tried to feel David’s mind but couldn't get hold of it, which was very strange. I opened all my senses and cautiousl
y sniffed the air. I caught no familiar scent of my husband. Still, another scent jolted my memory. Suddenly my eyes flew open.

  “Gunward!” I screamed. “What are you doing in my bed?”

  “Taking what´s mine,” Gun rumbled into my ear. I attempted to free myself from Gun’s hold, but his grasp of my body was like steel.

  “Your wiggling is a real turn-on, keep going,” he urged me with his deep voice.

  His steely grip around me tightened and his other hand stroked my body. I forced myself to lie absolutely still, even though I could feel a hint of pleasure in my lower belly. My body still recalled Gunward well, as he had been my first love, my partner who was meant to share my immortal life.

  “Stop it! Stop it right now,” I hissed. “You don´t belong in my life anymore. You haven´t belonged in it for over a hundred years and it was your choice.”