Sleeping in Flame

"Listen."

Dortchen went on: Breath's anger was as large as an ocean and he struck his son down, killing him instantly. But living without any love at all in this world was too much for the little man. So he brought Walter back to life in another time and place. He hoped that in this new existence, his son would learn that being both human and magical doesn't work. Once mixed, they can be disastrous to everyone concerned. Breath hoped that in this new life, his son would realize that being with his father was all he should want out of life.

Sadly, though, the same thing happened in this new life too, and again Breath's anger killed his son.

This time I was surprised by the old man's reaction. Rather than blow up, he seemed to slump, as if the truth were sucking him more and more into himself.

I didn't care. He wanted my life. I didn't want his. Maris was my love. I didn't belong to his.

Dortchen sighed. Poor Papa made the same mistake again and again through time and always with the same result. This made him meaner to the only person who had ever loved him. It got so bad that, in time, he completely forgot what love meant, only thinking about his own happiness.

"This terrible circle continued to turn round and round until the twentieth century. There the boy's name was Walker."

Papa looked at me and put out his hand. "Please!"

"Go on."

"In this life, however, Walker found perfect love with a woman who was able to show him secret, lost parts of his soul and being. In them was the answer to the dilemma that had ruined all of his past lives and happinesses.

"He went to Kassel and resurrected the Wild Sisters who had originally created the story of Breath. Walker asked them to come to Vie

"They came and met the father to tell him how they had created him. But there was one thing left. Walker asked them to end the story of Breath differently. He asked them to say, When Breath heard the end of their story and discovered where he'd really come from, he was so sad that like his heart, he turned to glass and broke. When he died, his magic died with him. The magic he'd taught his son. The magic that had enabled Walker to bring the Wild Sisters back to life to help. When Breath was gone, Walker was only human again."

There was a delicate ping, as slight as a heartbeat, and then the sound of glass breaking on the floor. I jumped out of the way, but some of it flew up and cut me. Brushing it off, I looked at the couch but they were all gone.

4.

It's good being "only human" again. There are times when I wish I still had some magic left. For example, the morning I told Maris the story of what really happened, and she got so angry I was afraid she was going to start bleeding again. She didn't, though. After her initial explosion, she sat up in that big white bed and said, "I couldn't have done anything anyway, could I?"

"Maris, you did everything! Your drawing showed me how to beat him."

"Because I wrote 'Breathing you' at the bottom? Big deal."

"No, because you showed me into a part of myself that had been closed through all my lives. If you'd only shown me his name it wouldn't have done any good. That would have only given us equal power. Showing me the city showed me his name and what I should do with it. It was clear in an instant. You did that. You showed me how. I couldn't have found it alone."

"It's hard finding your way across someone else's heart, isn't it?

"Walker, promise me something. I believe all of this is over. I believe you won. But if anything ever comes up again, you must tell me. Will you promise that?"

"It's over, Maris. Nothing else is going to happen."

"I don't care. You have to promise me that."

"Okay."

"Put up your right hand and say it."

"I promise to tell you everything."

"It doesn't have to be only magic, either. If I'm terrible and you hate something I do, you can't hold back. You have to tell. A deal? I promise to do the same with you."

"It's a deal."

I kept my promise. Six months later, the day it happened, I told Maris about the girl at the door.

The bell rang, I answered it. The instant after I knew who she was, I realized again nothing is done without regret.

She was wearing a long red cape that covered her head as well as her body. She had blond hair, honey-colored skin, lips as red as the cape.

"Once upon a time there was a sweet little maiden. Whoever laid eyes upon her could not help but love her." I looked up the line later.

"Do you know who I am?"

"Yes, I think so."

I'm Little Red Riding Hood. We've heard about you. All of us have heard about what you did. We don't like it. You're dangerous."

Our son . . .