They came home at the normal time, with Sam arriving before George. Since Kreig wasn’t entirely done with the dinner, Sam spent a little while helping him finish up.
And there they were, eating dinner just like so many times before.
“Was Erica here?” George asked sensibly. The portrait still standing in the living room had probably clued him in.
“Yes, though she had to leave early.”
“Pity. You know, since mother and father have already moved on, it’s up to me and Sam to decide whether or not she’s worthy of you,” George said with a straight face.
Kreig gaped at him. What? Why would they decide something like that? Perplexed, Kreig turned to Sam in the hopes that she might clear up this strange misconception. Instead, he found her nodding gravely. “Indeed, indeed. We can’t let anyone dirty take our Kreig’s hand in marriage!”
“Th-, that is preposterous,” Kreig stammered. “I’m hardly worthy of her! How can you possibly make such a decision? Furthermore, marriage is a bit...”
Unexpectedly, George grinned slyly. “All in due time, brother dearest. It all starts with a portrait, don’t you know?”
Sam nodded in tandem with his words. “Indeed, most indeed. I can’t tell you how many stories I’ve seen where a poor artist charms the rich duke’s daughter by painting her in all sorts of situations…” Grinning as widely as her brother, Sam brought a spoonful of soup to her lips. “Truly, you are a most avaricious charmer.”
George stared at her, his expression falling a little. “Do you even know what that word means?”
Sam did not answer, but Kreig was too busy feeling flustered to really notice. He: marry Erica? Why, that would be… Well, it would certainly be something. If the God below was willing, then anything was possible. Though, of course, that all remained for Erica to decide on. Kreig could hardly force her into anything. Not that he wanted to, either.
Though, the situation did mean that, one day, he would have to be honest with her. Otherwise, there might come a day when she is old and grey and he remains young and strong. Such a situation, as heartbreaking as it was to consider, was inevitable and just. The fate of all living things was to die.
But before that, he had to be honest and tell her the truth. About who he was. About what he was. About the things he had done.
...But that day remained far-off and distant. As a matter of fact, the longer Kreig could live without having to go through with it, the better. Her reaction could be quite unpredictable, and if worse came to worst, she might even attempt to share the truth with others. In that situation, Kreig might find himself unable to live the life he had so enjoyed until now. The school, Erica, his siblings… There was no end to the things he might lose.
Surely, though, Erica wouldn’t do such a thing, would she? Of course, she certainly enjoyed deliberating on whatever strange ideas she cooked up, but she seemed far from intent on sharing these truths with the world as a whole.
That was why Kreig felt quite comfortable in his plans for the future.
Silently, without any need for verbal communication, Kreig handed a wet plate over to George, who dried it off and placed it in the cupboards. Since Sam had helped with the plating, George would now help with the dishes. It was as simple as that, and Kreig found the process enjoyable. He didn’t really have to think a whole bunch, he could just let his hands move while his mind cleared itself from clutter and cobwebs.
Enjoying this book? Seek out the original to ensure the author gets credit.
Absently, he glanced at a clock hanging on the wall. 19:07. Hopefully, Erica had been able to finish reading the article by now, though he remained unsure why that would be needed at all.
On the couch, Sam absently hopped between various channels on the television.
Everything was alright.
“Brip-brip”
There was a strange chime Kreig had never heard before. Turning towards it, he watched in quiet confusion as George fumbled through his pockets, finally removing a strange little phone Kreig had never seen him use before. George answered the call. “George Wiedermann, 24’th Regional Director.” His left eye twitched. “There has been a-, what the hell are you talking about? Who?” He fell silent for a few seconds. “We don’t even know who they are?! Well, figure it-,”
Sam leaned over the couch and turned to the both of them. “George? What’s going on?”
He held up a hand, hushing her. Kreig felt a silent panic creep into the back of his mind. “We need to silence this. This isn’t something that can-,” George’s face grew paler by the second. His eyes flew wide. “It’s already across the world?... How is that even-,” George threw his hands into the air, face flushed black. He took a rattling breath and seemed to try to compose himself. He shot one hasty glance at Kreig. “Yeah, he’s here. No, we won’t…”
Something on the television made Kreig turn towards it. The news had come on.
“We’re hearing about a-, yes, there seems to be… There are reports of a previously unmentioned otherworldly creature that seems to have arrived no less than 6 months ago…”
Kreig could feel the plate in his hand crack and finally explode into little sharp fragments that all fell to the floor with a clatter. George placed one hand on the phone and turned to him, locking eye contact. “Kreig, please, don’t-, just relax. We’ll have this over with, so please don’t-,”
“Erica,” Kreig breathed. A heavy stone settled in his gut. “I have to get to Erica.”
Sam jumped out of the couch and placed herself in front of Kreig. “Hey, look, Kreig, take it easy! She’ll be fine, she’s-, she probably isn’t even watching the news, right? And if she is, then, I mean… They won’t mention you by name, right? They wouldn’t-,”
“The creature, according to the reports, supposedly goes under the name Kreig Wiedermann…”
Sam gestured wildly. “That’s honestly just-,”
Kreig pushed her aside. His mind was a whirlwind of conflicting thoughts and emotions, each centring on the eye-of-the-storm that was Erica. He had to get to Erica. He had to tell her that all this was just some sort of slander and that it wasn’t true, and even if it was, it was nowhere near as bad as they made it out to be. He just had to tell her that. That was all.
Sam clattered to the floor, her eyes wide and staring.
A hand fell on Kreig’s chest. He looked down to find George looking up at him, still holding the phone to his ear. Slowly, carefully, George removed his hand from his chest. “I can’t stop you, Kreig. This situation is… I can’t tell you what to do or what not to do, but I will ask you to be careful. No matter what happens, IOCRO will protect you and those you love. You have my word. But if you do something to arouse the wrath of the public, we cannot defend your image. So, please. Be careful.”
Kreig nodded stiffly and walked over to the kitchen window. He opened it wide. The gazes of his siblings burnt holes in his back.
Ruefully, he whispered an old inscription, one he had learnt many years ago while still trying to understand his place in the world.
Wings of a Dove (X)
His back grew hot and a pair of wings sprouted from it. They were white as snow and large enough to carry him. At his command, they folded themselves across his back, allowing him to step out of the window.
And then, as his siblings watched, he took flight.
Higher, higher, until he couldn’t make out the ground anymore, until all that remained below him was a great expanse of black and stars. He felt breathless and weak. His hands trembled. What was happening? How did this happen? Why?
Did someone despise him so much that they would do this to him? Was there someone after his life? Did he have enemies in this world too?
Behind him, his wings flapped mighty, bringing him higher and higher until the world below couldn’t be described as anything but an endless black sea.
He had to get to Erica. He had to explain the truth.
But if he truly was being attacked by some malevolent force, some organization bent on his demise, then he could hardly appear at her side empty-handed. Yes, he would need some protection. There was nothing in this world he truly feared from a combative standpoint, but if some immense being from the otherworld had appeared to bring about his end, then he would indeed need everything he could find.
With all the strength and speed he had to give, Kreig flew towards his goal. With the kind of speed he was able to build up, he was there within seconds, crashing through the roof of the police station. A bewildered guard stared at him as he easily destroyed the protective barrier that guarded his weapons and armour. Silently, without answering the guards hysterical questions, Kreig donned the blood red armour, placing the sword and shield on his back. His wings emerged from two specific incisions made along his back.
Being back in the armour felt at once homely and disturbing. The scent of blood within the helmet was overwhelming, as was the dried, rusty flakes of blood inside the joints. But he couldn’t afford to be picky.
Other officers began rushing inside the station, pointing guns and shouting things Kreig didn’t care to hear. Without a word, he hunched down and lept off the ground, bringing himself into the air.
Now.
Erica.