The Edge of the World

Chapter Twenty-One

Waves of fog rolled in, abnormal in their sweeping motions, diving, swelling, then casting their wet shade over the island. They swirled in their anger, mirroring the woman who watched from behind the dead trees. Her bosom heaved with unmitigated hate--- her eyes narrowing as the sky rumbled in its displeasure. She scoffed and leaned against the tree, her red dress snagging on the rough surface.

"I know, father," she said, "The sinful one taints your son once more. I sense your displeasure and will not rest until I've righted her wrongs."

If the energy protecting them didn't shine so brightly, she'd cross the threshold of the cabin and take what was rightfully hers, but the old magic refused to grant her access. Not even the Blessed Father had the power to penetrate it, and although she hadn't heard from Him in ages, she was convinced He still watched over the land.

And His children who lived within.

"Why did you allow her to make such ugly deals with the Fallen Ones, father? Why have you not intervened on my behalf?"

Sighing, she brushed a hand over her tired eyes. She shouldn't consider His absence, she decided, or those cold doubts might return. The pain of such thoughts left her broken at times. Tortured and she couldn't work with such debilitating fancies.

She needed her wits if she hoped to hold the whore at bay for the final time. In the past two lives, virtue had won, but it hadn't been easy, each time more difficult than the previous. He loved her not the whore, but lust can be tempting to men who were weak when it came to such things. However, righteousness would trump carnal desires every time, and Tatum needed to learn this.

Now that the bitch's original reared her demonic head, it was a sign to up the ante. The sooner this ended, the sooner the whore could return to hell.

And Ian would finally be free of these curses and find the peace he deserved within the embrace of the one he truly belonged to.

The wail of the creature sounded, and she stiffened at the cries, her stomach coiling in disgust and fear. He was close, and she hadn't a moment to spare. She spun on her heels, breaking into a run towards the caves beyond the trees where he didn't tread. He was the only threat in this desolate land. He was the only one with the power to stop her from freeing her love from the clutches of the whore.

Only him.

                                                                                     ###

"Favorite color," Tatum asked, handing Ian a bowl of canned stew before grabbing her own and sitting on her cot, while waiting for him to finish chewing to answer. They'd been playing this since waking that morning, the air so cold neither strayed beyond the porch. The fog even sparkled with ice while hovering inches above the ground.

Ian told her of meeting her original, the woman from her first life, who seemed to have all the answers, yet shared none of them with anyone else. Ian and Tatum both hadn't a clue as to how to respond to her apparent anger towards Ian and they found themselves intrigued, losing themselves, instead, to the idea of their connection.

The game they dabbled in wasn't a typical game. In fact, it was emotionally risky, but something they came up with to see how connected to their past lives, and one another, they really were. One would ask about themselves to see if the other knew the answer.

And eerily, they'd been right on everything. Excluding modern music, they seemed to have the same tastes they always had, and it was stunning.

"Your favorite color is teal," he finally answered, and she paused in mid-chew. God, he knew more about her than anyone and yet, in this life, she'd only known him on that island.