The Watcher

I went back to my room to change. Out my window, the sky had cleared and a ring of blue light circled the almost-full moon. Thinking a moonlit walk on the beach would be nice, I put on a few extra layers, trying to make sure everything matched and didn’t look bulky.

Michael was sitting on the kitchen counter reading the paper. When I came out, he looked up. “Much better. I don’t want you getting cold.”

“What about you?” I asked, noting he wore only jeans and a sweatshirt, whereas I was in layers of polar fleece.

He slid off the counter in such as way as to make even that look graceful. “I’ll be warm enough, trust me.”

He removed his sweatshirt and tied it around his waist. Underneath, he wore a white tank with a t-shaped back that showed off the muscles in his arms and shoulders. Golden light sparkled and flickered between his shoulder blades.

He opened the door and held it for me, waiting. “Ready?”

“For?”

“I’m taking you flying.”

“Flying? Wait. Flying flying? You don’t mean in a plane, do you?”

“No.” His smile grew brighter and fuller as he watched my realization that he would be flying me sink in. “Do you want to?” When I hesitated before nodding, he asked, “Are you scared?”

“Yeah. A bit.” Actually I was scared a lot, but the idea of seeing his wings more than made up for it.

“You’ll be safe. I promise,” he said, closing the door behind me.

When I stepped out onto the front yard, he scooped me up into his arms as though I were weightless, like that day I’d injured my ankle in the woods. Marveling at the strength it must take to do that, I swallowed a girlish squeak.

“Ready?” he asked.

As soon as I nodded my answer, he bent his legs and leapt into the air, taking me with him. Uneasiness stirred in the pit of my stomach. I fought the urge to scream as the ground disappeared beneath us, the houses and lights shrinking at a dizzying rate.

“Relax. You’re safe,” Michael said. “Breathe.”

I was so fixated on the ground speeding away from us that every muscle in my body tensed. I forgot I’d been holding my breath and gasped for air. Although Michael’s arms were strong and solid beneath me, I needed something to hold on to, so I linked my arms around his shoulders. Even in the cold air, his skin was warm to the touch.

And that was when I saw his wings. In the past, I’d only seen a faint blue outline around him or blue gossamer around Arielle. Nothing, not even my dreams or memories, prepared me for how his wings really looked. They were huge, not white exactly, more iridescent, with a featherlike covering that reflected all the rainbow colors, even in the dark. They weren’t actual feathers, not the kind you’d see on a bird; they were filaments of solid light. Joining at his back, they stretched out at least ten feet on either side from base to tip. Beating powerfully behind us, they made a sound in the air like wind hitting silk sails.

“Can people see us?” I asked. The wind rushed my ears and I had to speak loudly even to hear myself.

Gri

While everything in me said that flying was impossible and that I should be terrified, I wasn’t afraid. The wind carried us so high that cars buzzed like fireflies on the streets below, and across Elliot Bay, the freighters and boats could have easily been toys. Michael swooped low over water reflecting distorted city lights and we glided under the West Seattle Bridge. His wings beating against the wind currents, we looped around and ascended again over the tall buildings of the downtown core.

The wind kicked up colder and whipped my hair against my face, and yet in his arms I was surprisingly warm. My blood thrummed through my veins. I looked at Michael’s face again and realized he was completely in his element, completely at ease. Flying was as much a part of him as breathing was for me. I was safe, and with his heart beating against the side of my ribs, the strength and warmth of his arms around me, I felt closer to him than ever.

After making another wide sweep of the harbor, we glided effortlessly back across the water to the beach at Lincoln Park. Although his landing was smooth and graceful, as soon as my feet touched the ground my knees buckled. Michael quickly grabbed my elbows to steady me.

“You okay?” He furled his wings securely behind him. “Did you have fun?”

I opened my mouth to speak but no words came out, so I nodded my response. My heart pounded wildly in my chest and I realized I was shaking. My whole body hummed with adrenaline; I had to remember to breathe.

“You’re sure?” He released my elbows and backed away from me. “You can stand on your own?”

I had foal legs, but I could stand. The edges of his halo shimmered as he tucked it around himself, and his wings shifted to their blue outline as though he had sheathed them with the air.

“It was amazing!” I said once I found my voice. My heart hammered against my ribs.

“Walk a bit. It’ll help you adjust to being on the ground again.”

He took my hand, dispelling any cold from the night air, and we strolled along a dimly-lit path that followed the rocky shore. His wings stretched out behind us as iridescent as starlight, visible only to me. Since it was the first clear night in days, there were a few other people on the path and Michael adjusted his wings to avoid touching them.

“How do your wings work?” I asked after I’d fully recovered from flight. “I usually see them as a blue outline, but when we were flying they were more real.”

“They’re inter-dimensional.”

“They’re what?” I asked in disbelief.

“They exist in another place, a different dimension so to speak, and I bring them into this one when I fly.”

I was completely baffled.

“It might be better if I show you,” he said, walking us out onto the beach, away from the street lights, out of the view of the ferries and houses in the distance. “We’re going to be invisible for a bit. Best to not attract attention.”

His halo tingled as he extended it around both of us, its phosphorescence rippling against the dark sky. A golden light glimmered behind him, extending from his back, and the blue outline of his wings flickered. Then, soundlessly as morning snow, his wings appeared, as though pulled from an invisible sheath.

He unfurled them, and such a sense of peace and stillness came over me. Full and white, they were glorious. Observing them filled me with a sense of wonder, as though I were witnessing something profound and exquisite, so much greater than myself. Their presence humbled me, made me realize that everything I’d ever known or believed was a tiny piece of a greater, more magnificent whole, and I was honored to even be a part of it.

Studying my face, Michael closed his wings and took a few steps toward me. “This isn’t too much, is it?”

I smiled at him and fought the strange urge to cry. It wasn’t from sadness but more the way a beautiful sunset might affect you if you’d been blind your whole life and were suddenly able to see it. Silently, Michael retracted his halo and slid his wings back to their usual placement, all the while observing me as though expecting me to  freak out.

The wind picked up, blowing through my hair. Not wanting it to tangle further, I finger-combed it and tied it into a braid, wishing I’d done that before we went flying. I had a few tangles but was lucky it wasn’t a mass of knots. Not having an elastic band, I used a piece of my own hair to secure the end and then tucked the mass into my collar. It wouldn’t last long, but it would have to do.

Michael leaned against a nearby rock, still watching me. With the orange-cast light from the street lamp playing off his skin, shadowing the muscles of his shoulders and arms, and the flickering of golden light his halo cast around him, he looked positively heroic, like a statue of an ancient god.