I stood on the footpath as my fellow pedestrians flowed seamlessly around me, grinning up at the sky like a fool as the rain began to fall in sympathy with the setting sun. Some cursed quietly at their misfortune of being caught in the rain, others half jogged into nearby stores or alcoves to avoid the drizzle. Not me. I would hold onto this little thrill of excitement as long as I'm able. The good days are too few and too far between.
Smiling nervously to myself I crossed the street, checking the condition of the yellow rose in my hand. Her favourite. I had followed this path every year on the anniversary of our parting, a small gift to let her know she was in my thoughts and all was forgiven despite our lack of contact.
Giddy like a teenager sneaking around to leave a gift for his girl, yet also terrified at the thought of somehow being rejected even though it had been a foregone conclusion many years past. I paused momentarily to cast my eye over the out of place two story residence, jammed in between the giant multistory apartment buildings with store fronts on the ground floor. The gothic (romantic she called it) architecture of the building a stark contrast to the bland right angles of modern design. I couldn't help but start reminiscing a life long past when we lived here as lovers. Huh. Perhaps romantic was the right description.
Despite what others might believe I am not immune to the sensations of loss and sadness, at several thousand years old I simply have more experience in drowning my emotions with sheer force of will, self control. Thanks to this experience I was able to conceal my surprise as I walked the short path to the front door to place my gift, lights embedded into the side of the path coming to life to light my way as I walked. I have no doubt my former love had come to expect my gift on this significant date in our shared history, however not once over the last fifty years had she attempted contact. Today, it would appear she had something other than an anonymously placed yellow rose in mind.
My nervousness turned to dread as I stood a single step from the threshold staring at the envelope pinned to the door. I knew that in human terms Christine was now an old woman, we had parted ways when she was in her early forties... fifty years ago. If these were her parting words, I would not allow the grief of her passing to fuel my rage. She hadn't allowed it when we were partners and she sure as shit wouldn't allow it now. I expected her farewell to remind me of this.
Composure fleeing, pins and needles spiking through my body with a fear I had not felt in years, my shaking fingers reached for the envelope. Turning the letter over in my hand as I inspected it for tampering or other notations, I stared down at the flowing script written by her hand, addressed to a name that Christine knew would draw my attention. Very few in the world today knew of my nature, even fewer aware of my birth name.
I opened the envelope, in trepidation my fingers drawing out the thin paper within almost unwillingly as the door to which the missive had been attached began to open slowly. Lifting only my eyes, my heart raced, I braced to see her again. Emotions flowed, boiling to the surface as a lopsided grin planted itself on my face in preparation to playfully chastise her for not allowing me the chance to read her note, Christine had always been impatient in matters of the heart... disappointment washed over me. Dread again tickled and teased my mind.
A young african american woman held my gaze intently, silently observing for several long moments. Her big brown eyes glanced down at the still folded note in my hand. The hair on the back of my neck rose, she felt... wrong. Not her exactly, but her... presence, her... aura? Not that I believed in such things.
It was then that she silently chastised me, I smiled like an idiot at her, she had clearly spent considerable time with my former lover if she had picked up her mannerisms. The unknown girl widened her eyes, lightly shaking her head at me, glanced down at the still as yet unread note then back to hold my gaze.
"Well?" She prompted.
With a sigh, that almost sounded content I scanned the note.
See me before I go. Love Chris.
With glassy eyes I nodded once without looking up, utilising the precious seconds before proceeding to fortify myself against the emotional harm of a final goodbye. There had been so many in my life by this point, yet somehow I am still inept in these situations. My love wished it however, and so no matter how painful, or how I personally felt about the situation, it would be so.
As my guide led me in silence through the house I distracted my mind attempting to unravel the mysterious 'wrong' that permeated the air in her wake. At least that's what I told myself, my mind quieted as my eyes settled on the shimmy of her backside as she walked. She was wearing a somewhat shorter than normal Cheongasam, or China dress if you prefer. The body-hugging, but not quite skin tight, closefitting dress excelled at accentuating her womanly virtues. The primarily red material with gold embroidery matched her perfectly, enhancing her dark skin tone whilst naturally drawing the eye to her curves and the smooth skin on display.
Focused as I was watching the short flap of the dress swaying tantalisingly, with the almost promise of bouncing just that little bit higher as she walked, to slip and display the barest glimpses of her body beneath, leaving me wishing for more, imagining her...
I stopped short as the as yet unnamed woman suddenly stopped and turned on her heel with a cheeky smile on her face, leaving little doubt in my mind that she knew exactly what it was that had me so distracted. She stood by a door with her hands clasped behind her, her ample breasts seeming to strain against the material of the high-necked gown, her long black hair held in a high pony tail. No longer distracted, I again noticed something just plain wrong with the young woman. As though catching onto my train of thought her slight smirk quickly disappeared, her eyes narrowed ever so slightly, her head tilted as though listening to something only she could hear.
Unlawfully taken from Royal Road, this story should be reported if seen on Amazon.
She coughed nervously, or perhaps politely, I couldn't really say. As I blinked the young woman pounced forward as though that had been the momentary distraction she was waiting for, her body brushed against mine in slow motion, time stopping as a slight tingle of excitement momentarily coursed through my body like an electric jolt as her breasts brushed every so slightly against my arm as she reached forward to open the door. A quiet gasp of surprise escaped her lips as our bodies touched indicating that she had likewise felt the sensation of the touch before she stood back, head angled again, looking at me with equal measure of mild confusion, surprise and suspicion. An expression that matched my own.
Neither of us had time to further consider exactly what it was about the other, standing close as lovers might before the now open door, we turned simultaneously to the voice that intruded upon our introspection.
"Plenty of time for you two to get lovey dovey later." An elderly Christine teased from a bed in the center of the room.
I chuckled easily as I walked toward my now elderly former lover, curiosity of the younger woman forgotten as those few simple words eroded the years that separated us in a heart beat.
Ignoring the various machines around the bed as I sat, I caught Christine's hand as she lifted it, rubbing my cheek against her open palm lovingly with closed eyes. I exhaled in complete contentment.
"That was supposed to be a slap you ass." The old woman chuckled.
My only reaction was to smile broadly, enjoying the sensation of her touch for another moment before drawing her fingers to my lips and kissing them. I finally opened my eyes and gazed down in adoration at the elderly woman. Christine likewise closed her eyes as I gently stroked her formally auburn hair, now thinned and gray with age as I tucked it lovingly behind her ear. As my fingers traced over the cybernetic ports behind her right ear, realisation hit me like the proverbial truck. But my suspicion would have to wait.
Holding my wrist Christine pulled gently, needing no further permission I bent down to gently nibble and kiss her lips, our tongues quickly found each other, engaging in a brief open air conflict. At her contented coo into my open mouth I broke the kiss, immediately turning to eye the young black woman.
If she took issue with a man that appeared to be in his mid twenties making out with a ninety plus year old woman she didn't show it. My eyes flicked to the end of the bed where the young woman was now standing as she silently observed our interaction in curiosity. Under her watchful gaze I cast my eyes up and down the curves of her body in a cursory search for anything that would hint at modification. I had no cybernetic implants, not even a personal link which was exceedingly rare in 2180, perhaps one in ten million. In fact I had neither heard of nor seen another human that didn't have the very basic, even compulsory personal link in some jurisdictions. This young woman likewise had no implants, at least that I could see while she was clothed...
Perhaps I leered or something, though I doubt it. Under my momentarily intense gaze she nervously brushed some loose strands of hair back with her left hand, her wrist presenting only dark flesh to my inspection, no personal link... interesting. Perhaps this was the cause for my mind to subconsciously nudge my mind into paranoia earlier?
"Ophiel, perhaps it's best you prepare."
My blood ran cold, my previously neutral expression flashed to one of barely restrained rage in an instant. You see there is a certain syntax combined with a certain style in specific names that aren't typical or popular, many of which hadn't been known for hundreds, or even thousands of years. Those names and the meaning behind them were now long forgotten, except of course to the only human on the planet that could interpret them. Namely me... because I was there.
"o...of course." The fallen angel stammered, gaving a small bow before fleeing from the room.
Christine lightly stroked my back in the condemning silence that now permeated the room, a calming gesture as I stared at the closed door attempting to quell the rage within, or perhaps her gentle strokes are a silent plea to ask forgiveness.
"I..." I stopped as soon as I began. This would not be the way I say goodbye, despite the drastic lapse of common sense, she deserved better from me.
"Cain... It's okay." Christine's age worn voice stabbed into my thoughts, bringing clarity.
"Taking human form, or taken human form?" I asked, my voice full of menace as I carefully enunciated the difference while sitting motionless, not yet willing to condemn nor forgive my former love. Allowing her a chance for us to yet part on good terms, the only redeeming factor in my mind at the moment being that the fallen angel was at least on the right side of things.
"Neither. Both." She whispered, her voice trembling. I consoled myself at the sound of her voice. She knew this would anger me, yet...
"Explain." I prompted with as much patience as I could muster as I stood. I walked to the window, presenting only my back to the woman on her death bed, denying her the comfort of my presence that she so clearly desired in her final hours.
Angels, demons, God. They exist, but they are not what the world believes them to be, not what the world was brainwashed into believing... if they believed at all. I myself had been fooled for over a thousand years, it was only when the human race entered the industrial age that I began to suspect. In the current age of technology I knew better, I had faith in my own, somewhat adjusted beliefs. That's the trouble with granting a sentient being eternal life as 'punishment', eventually, one day, sooner or later technology catches up and they not only understand exactly what you are, they have the means to call you out on your misdeeds.
I watched the drizzling rain in the silence for several long minutes before finally my thoughts settled to the point where a conversation would be possible. I turned to speak, froze with mouth open, heart breaking, body sagging in defeat.
I would never have the opportunity for the goodbye she deserved, the goodbye I promised myself I wouldn't fuck up. Samantha lay motionless, staring at the ceiling. Her body still in death with arm outstretched towards me. In her open palm a drive of a particular design about the length and thickness of a human finger. The handwritten notation in black ink, a simple heart above the letter u.