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Elia - Part 1

The detective turned as he felt a presence behind him. He thought he saw something dark out of the corner of his eye, as though someone had just left the room. Had someone been standing behind him? He stepped to the door and slowly opened it. It hadn’t been latched. He thought he remembered pulling it so that it latched behind him when he had arrived. Though his eyes found no one in the hall, he glanced back and forth twice to be sure, before he realized he must be mistaken. Perhaps it was only his exhaustion. He should leave.
He turned one last time to look upon the form in the bed. His eyes widened as he found they weren’t alone. Pale fingers gently smoothed dark hair from a troubled brow. Something was wrong with the man’s eyes as they gazed down upon the boy in the bed. Something was wrong with the far side of his face… his clothes which seemed to hang from him as though they were gently suspended in water and made of something only slightly heavier than smoke. Something was so very wrong with this person despite that he bore the same foreign beauty that the boy in the bed had. The detective was gripped with the wish to run just as quickly as he was the rush to step closer, so he chose to remain stone still instead of doing either. He saw the boy take a deep breath and finally the furrow relaxed so that he was only young again. The pale hand slowly withdrew and the dark figure straightened. Eyes that glowed like arctic ice finally rose and met those of the detective who was just beginning to realize he barred the only exit. Sumptuous lips pushed together as the creature squared off, shifting the most infinitesimal amount.
“Elia…” the creature spoke in a whisper that sounded like shifting leaves on a forest floor. His lips appeared to move purposefully as though he were unused to pronouncing the word, the name. He looked to the boy in the bed and let his hand stray back toward him, indicating the child who finally seemed to be peacefully sleeping.
“Elia, is that his name?” Could it be true? All the detective received was a gentle nod before the figure dissolved into shadowed wisps of smoke.
“Elia.” The detective said it again as he blinked in surprise before he stepped forward, more relieved to have some clue about the child than immediately worried about what just happened. “Elia, Elia come back. I want to talk to you. Elia I can’t fix this without you. I want you to heal. I want you to be well. Please Elia, let me make this right.”
He would be the one to say that name if no one else would. He would find a way to make this better.
* * *
“Elia? Elia! Where are you darling? It’s time to go.” Maybe he hadn’t heard her at first. It was by no means late, but if they didn’t go now, dinner would be. Why wasn’t he responding? Had something happened?
“Excuse me, but are you this one’s mom?”
She wheeled around to find a blonde? woman with a pleasant expression and a hand on each shoulder of the very thing she was searching for. He wasn’t meeting her gaze. He was dirty, as though he had been rolling on the bark and earth and she instantly scowled at the look of distress that crossed his features. Then he looked up and a smile bloomed upon his face. It was as though nothing but the dirt had happened, even though she had been sure just moments before that something was wrong.
“Mommy! Is it time to go home?” Elia stepped away from the woman who had guided him to her and into a hug that she returned.
“Thank you.” Sabyn offered a half smile to the woman who had returned him to her.
“It’s no trouble. My girls are pretty rough and tumble too so don’t be too? hard on her. They play hard.”
“Yes, and apparently boys worse than girls.” She chuckled softly until she felt the slight flinch from the child in her arms and instinctively moved to smooth his hair the way she always did when she was comforting him. “He’ll be fine after a bath and some food.”
“He… I’m so sorry. I thought… because of the long hair and… he…” The woman was nearly stuttering and was flushed when Sabyn looked up. She swallowed hard before she continued. “He’s just such a beautiful child.”
“It’s alright. Really. This happens all the time.”
* * *
“Sir, might I have a word with you before you go.” The doctor pushed his glasses up and cleared his throat before letting his eyes rise to meet the steely gaze of the detective.
“Have you found something new?” The detective’s tone was far lighter than he meant for it to be. He was not looking forward to his return to the office. At least here he felt like he was doing something useful. He could justify his time spent by telling himself it was good for the boy. No one else even called him by name. He was close to finding out once and for all what that was.
“He’s going to be moved and I wanted you to be the first to know. You have seemed more invested in this case than anybody else. His care will be continued at an institution more befitting his condition.” The doctor looked as though he was momentarily struck with guilt.
“Moved but…”
“His condition is no longer repairable with physical care so he will be referred to one of our sister facilities that specialize in mental illness and disability as well as continued care until he can be sorted out.”
The detective’s brow creased sharply. “You mean he’s going to a convalescent home where he’s expected to die. What happened to the other tests you were going to run? What happened to the records you were going to find, his birth certificate, something? What about his physical injuries? He’s just going to be left to rot in some place surrounded by death and you’re okay with never knowing what happened?” The detective had become animated. It felt like something was afoot. Wheels were turning that he couldn’t see and he was becoming trapped in the mechanism of a machine that was too large for him to see the details of.
“It’s not a matter if that. He is a ward of the state. With no living mother or father he…”
“A ward off the state? This is bullshit!”
“This is not something that I recommended.”
“Not something you recommended but not something you’re fighting either! I thought the tests would give us some clue that he is still in there. He’s the only lead I have!”
“Keep your voice down and listen to me. I ran the tests and that’s why he’s being moved.”
“What?”
“He’s still in there and very much alive. He’s never been on life support, not this entire time. His body rejects all pain medications, all medications of any kind within minutes, hours at best, and he’s been physically healed since the second day he was here. Something happened that night you were here so late and he’s been physically perfect since. His birth certificate does list his legal name as Elia. It’s Elia Darkstar, which is different than his mother’s name. You were right about that much which is only minimally odd compared to everything else about him. There is a hidden strand within his DNA but everything, everything I did has been taken and if anyone finds out i told you any bit of this… They can’t take him from you though. You could go public with what you already have, so you stay with him. You may be the only one who ever wants him to wake up. You may be the only one who ever finds out what he is because I certainly won’t and I think you’re the only reason he hasn’t just disappeared into the system so someone else can dismantle him before he opens his eyes again.” The doctor’s voice had been nothing more than an impassioned whisper. His fists clenched as he went silent in an attempt to hide shaking hands. That night… that night he had seen an apparition. He had since blamed it on exhaustion. It hadn’t happened. But the doctor said that something had happened. He had been told the boy’s name by someone who had known who Elia was. Could that person have done something to Elia, something that would explain what the doctor was trying to tell him?
He would follow him. The detective had sworn since that first night that he would be there when Elia opened his eyes for the first time. He wanted to know what his voice sounded like and he wanted to beg the boy’s forgiveness for not having found him sooner. Then the world caught up with him and he fought to find his voice.
“Is Elia even human?” Of course he was. He had to be. He was a child born to a mother, but his father… what if that apparition had been his father?
“I can’t tell you for sure. He is… more than human. Look at him. Look hard when you sit with him. Does he look like a normal human boy to you? I think… I think we stumbled on to something here, something far bigger than that serial killer. I think Elia is human, but also something else. I think I could confirm that if I had the mother’s body, but it was taken away before I could find more than that they shared the same DNA and were most definitely related,that she was his mother.”
“Why would the body be taken anywhere when I haven’t finished the case? It never should have been touched. I haven’t even scratched the surface of this. What if I can’t recover the bodies of the other kids that man killed? What will I tell that boy when he wakes up and wants to know what happened to him, to his mother?”
“Nothing. You tell him nothing because he already should know that she’s dead. He saw it before you did undoubtedly. You won’t have to tell him anything because Elia has all the answers. You just keep him in your sights. No matter what, don’t lose him if you want to know the truth. They will give him physical therapy and care for him like any other non responsive patient. So long as they believe that he still has ties to you they will keep things looking normal and try wait you out, and you, you might get some answers if you just stay with him.”
The doctor briskly walked away looking a lot more agitated than he actually was. The detective scowled after him. He knew it was a show. Anyone watching would believe they had argued, not exchanged information. There couldn’t be this much deception surrounding one unconscious child. There couldn’t possibly be anyone who would make Elia disappear, right?
He passed through the door and into the quiet room. There he was, as pale and frail as he had been the day the detective first laid eyes on him. He had an IV going to one arm that was taped at his elbow. His eyes remained closed. He looked almost peaceful, almost. There was a nearly imperceptible crease that marked his features in a vague feeling of distress. The detective sighed as he sat in the chair by his bed.
“How are you today, Elia? I hope you have been well. I have had a rather uninteresting day myself, right up until I got here. You know, I heard that they are going to move you because you’re doing so well. That makes me happy; that you’re doing well, but not that you are going to be someplace else. Don’t worry though, I’ll still come visit you each and every day. I’m going to have to start bringing my case files with me. You wouldn’t mind that would you? I thought not. I really wish you’d… you’d talk to me…” The detective’s face momentarily contorted in pain. When he continued, his tone was light. He hoped that somehow, some part of this was getting through. Elia had not known him before but he hoped that the sound of someone saying his name in a caring way would be enough. Then it dawned on him; the words the doctor had said quietly played in his mind as he sat, talking about… anything.
Was Elia really different from any other normal boy? Sure he was delicate. Even healthy, his small long build gave him a foreign quality. He was pale, though not so much that he appeared to be ill. He had a small overbite which was accentuated by lips that looked as though they had been stained by strawberries, wine if he’d been older. Freckles covered his cheeks and the bridge of his nose. He would probably outgrow those. His dark hair framed his face in long lustrous silk that had only the slightest hint of warmth to it. All of these things were things that a normal boy could have, even the androgyny because of how slight he was, how stark the contrast between his freckles and the rose of his cheeks, and how gentle his features were, even when marked with the hint of some secret suffering. He was a normal boy! He was! There was no reason to think otherwise based on his appearance. So what was the doctor talking about?
For the first time since he had come to be in this room, shared it with him, he wanted to feel that Elia was really there. If he was real he would feel it, know it in his bones. Hesitantly, he stretched his fingers towards black hair until they smoothed dark silky strands away from a young face. How could anyone have hurt this child? His stomach turned at the thought of it. He tried to be soothing, like he had seen the apparition be, and watched as Elia’s expression changed ever so slightly. If he was reacting this much, why wasn’t he opening his eyes? Why hadn’t the detective thought to do this before? Wasn’t there a nurse or something who cared that this boy was alone, like this, lost inside his own frail form? He couldn’t be the only one who touched him in a caring way. It broke his heart to think it. His hand slipped away as Elia’s lips parted and he took what may have been a contented sigh. This was just a boy, just like any other, but then the detective noticed something he hadn’t noticed before. Elia had an overbite, not unusual, until you came upon canines that extended down far further than they should have. He should be able to see the edges of those teeth but he couldn’t. His canines were longer, like an animal’s. The detective scowled and craned over. This could still be normal. There were all sorts of teeth in the world. It didn’t mean anything. Then he noticed the soft round of each ear that ended in a point at the upper tips. It had been hidden by his hair but was unmistakable. The detective’s scowl deepened. What had the doctor found?
* * *
He was sitting in the chair, perfectly still, with the exception of the hand that moved across the page, a color pencil gripped tightly within it. His hair was still wet but he felt much better. He had changed into soft flannel the moment he stepped from his bath and had a blanket wrapped about his shoulders. Now, he was just waiting for dinner to be ready and wanted to unwind.
His eyes slipped closed as his pencil moved over the page. His expression changed to one of contentment as he called and heard the unmistakable answer, the rich whispered male voice who responded to him more than the others. He knew that they would be bound to each other, guardian and wolf. He wanted to meet the one who owned the voice that whispered to his mind. He wanted to know his name so that they could share in the joy of their bond and walk the many planes together. Elia began to gather himself within his own mind. All he had to do was ask. If he asked, he knew the voice would tell him. He would know the name he should call so that he would never be alone. All he had to do was put his intentions forward. He would be accepted so long as he didn’t falter. He couldn’t doubt…
The crash from beside him nearly made him jump out of his skin. He blinked and took a sharp breath as his mother’s arm folded around him. What had happened? His eyes found what had broken; a glass of milk upon the floor smashed into a thousand pieces.
“Mom?” Elia’s eyes darted about his room, uncertain why his mom may have had such a response. He nuzzled into her arm in an effort to comfort her.
“Where did you see that Elia? Where did you see this person?” She was crying into his hair. Elia didn’t understand what she was talking about. Who was she talking about? Then his eyes strayed down to the drawing. His fingers released the pencil and touched the features he had clearly drawn upon the page. Is that what he looked like? Had he drawn the face that matched that gentle voice that soothed the rough edges of his mind like the sound of a breeze through leaves? He knew the answer and traced over his rough work another time, pursing his lips as he did so. His mom shouldn’t know who that was. It had been his father who had the fae blood, so how did she know?
* * *
His hand rested on the files in the seat beside him. He had been on the road for about twenty minutes and had twenty more before he reached his destination. He had made this trip, as promised, every day. He actually looked forward to the quiet, the peace that came with talking to the boy who waited. Elia’s condition was unchanged. He didn’t even think they were doing anything for him. It was much as the doctor said: they were trying to wait him out, see if he would lose interest and stop making the drive. That wasn’t going to happen. He’d given his word. This boy deserved an explanation when he woke up. This boy deserved to wake up. Whomever they were, he was not going to allow them to ferret this boy away and ensure those big blue eyes would never open again. It wasn’t going to happen.
He pulled away from a light and sighed. He needed a lead. He needed more than a name and smoke. He needed something substantial that he could wrap his fingers around. The case ran through his mind over and over, like a gruesome carousel. He had even more questions now, so many more questions.
The car passed below the stone arches, through the iron gate, and pulled up to a booth and a guard that had a bar which blocked his path. He frowned as the guard asked him for identification and then again when it was checked against a list. Why did they do this every single time? He had been there every day.
His identification was returned and he slowly pulled through when the guard cleared the way. He shook his head as he collected the files from the seat beside him. It had been nearly a year and he was still being treated the same way that he had been the first day he passed beneath that arch. He hadn’t expected a warm welcome but he had perhaps expected a little more than this. He was through the doors and two of the three check points without even thinking. The only good thing about this place was the view and the child that waited for him. No one could possibly heal here.
Another patient bumped into him on their way past and mumbled something unintelligible before being collected by a nurse. He was almost there. He rounded a corner and passed two closed doors before stopping in front of the one that was his destination. Maybe something would be different today. Maybe there would be some sign that this had all happened for a reason. He took a breath and turned the knob, letting himself into the room before he allowed his eyes to find the bed where Elia lay. His blood went cold in his veins. Gone!
The folders almost fell from his hands as he fled the room without even closing the door behind him. He all but flew to the nearest nurses’ station. There had to be some explanation. Dread seized his heart as the woman behind the counter blinked up at him.
“Where is he?”
“Sir, you’re going to have to calm down before I can help you.”
Calm down. Calm down? Each moment that ticked by Elia could be further away, closer to being truly lost. He couldn’t become calm. “Where has Elia Darkstar been moved, please?”
That was as good as she was going to get and she seemed to somehow know that. Slowly she turned to a clipboard and began to leaf through its pages. It was taking every ounce of his being to not snatch it from her and look at it himself, and he would have if he thought he could decipher what those pages told her. Her finger slid across one of the pages before she reached for a book that was beneath her counter. He took a deep breath and let it out, trying to temper jangled nerves and swallow the growing constriction in his chest.
Then he felt it. It was as though a cool breeze had entered and the pressure in the room around him changed. The woman before him didn’t seem to notice, but he shivered before he turned toward the hallway he had come from. There, in the lingering shadows that the florescent lights couldn’t seem to budge, stood a figure. His breath caught in his throat as his feet turned, carrying him away from the woman and her books, the spot of brightest light that now seemed garish and painful compared to the looming dusk before him. He didn’t hear the woman who called after him. He didn’t see the doors he passed or the lights going dim, as if to accommodate the one who walked before him. How had it become so dark? It hadn’t even been overcast when he arrived.
The garments of the one before him flowed about him as he walked, as though suspended by the air and unaffected by gravity itself. His hair was red, like blood, and framed his shoulders. He had thought it had been his imagination. He had thought the pale skin and cold burning eyes had been a fabrication created by the gore and pain he witnessed and the exhaustion. He still had nightmares but he couldn’t use those excuses to explain away the being that had appeared before him a second time.
“Elia?” His voice was a tentative whisper, as though he feared breaking the silence around them. The being turned to him and fixed him with his icy eyes before he nodded and turned away to continue forward.
“Are you a part of him? Are you real?” He hadn’t meant to say anything else but he had so many questions.
“I am like you. I protect him. I am from someplace else and can only come here when he calls, if he calls.” His voice was quiet, distant, and carried sadness as though they were leaves blown through a burning forest. “I am like him. I was not meant to be this but I am. I remain because he can not send me away… but I will use the time he has given me to make things right, one soul at a time. If you believe in him, continue to be with him and someday he will open his eyes. That I promise you. He is there.”
A long pale hand rose before a finger extended, pointing. They were beside a door that was framed by giant windows. He hadn’t even realized until he turned to follow where the hand was pointing. The light made him blink and obscured his view before he turned back to the figure who had directed him. Now the blood of his hair, the ice of his eyes was even more pronounced and the design on the far side of his face was visible as scarring and not just decoration. Even in the light there was a glow, as though ghostly fire burned upon his face and the swirls were the paths that fire took.
“What are you?” It was another question he hadn’t meant to say but didn’t regret until the creature fixed him with a stare he hadn’t expected.
“I’m nothing. I’m what happens when a soul gets so angry it must live upon others. I’m the corruption of purity. I am a darkness that should have remained light.” Those eyes were trained upon him, unblinking as he absorbed the words that were barely a whisper.
“Is it your fault he won’t come back? Did you do this to him?”
Before he could react, long elegant fingers circled his throat, cold and dry, holding him still despite his wish to flee. Their eyes met and he knew the answer. This creature would never harm that boy. This creature, who was so close and so fearsome, with its unearthly appearance and presence that exuded harm, empathized with the child he guarded on a level no one else would ever understand.
“You should go to him. You need to protect him because, if I feel you are no longer necessary, you will be very sorry.”
With that, he was released, choking and sputtering as though his body had forgotten how to draw breath. His eyes watered and he braced himself against the window, steadying himself until he could straighten and turn back to the one who had held him. Gone. He was alone in front of the great glass doors that were surrounded by their many windows. Now he could see a wheelchair outside on the venerable stone patio, and within it, Elia.
* * *
It had almost gone back to normal, almost. There was still this pending sense of doom that loomed over them as they ate. When they caught each other’s eye across the table, there was the customary smile that was shared and had been since he had learned how to smile. It was the promise of things to come that lurked and darkened their mood. Elia didn’t even understand why. All that she had said was that it was time. When he had asked what she meant, she simply ruffled his hair before she smiled down at him and whispered that it was time for him to learn about his father.
His father.
His father whom they hadn’t spoken about because the one time he had asked, when he was so young he hadn’t learned about emotional pain, he had learned to never ask again. Something had happened. Something bad. Something that his mother had saved him from and still protected him from. If she was afraid then it must have meant the worst. Maybe it was the reason that she feared the other wolves. Maybe there were no other wolves anymore and it was only the reason that she feared…
He had never seen her change. He didn’t know the color of her fur or how her eyes looked when they filled with her spirit’s fire. He wished that he did. How could something that felt so good be frightening. He wanted to run. He wanted to feel the earth beneath his paws and know that he was a part of it. He wanted to dance with the voices in the woods, feel their wild breath ruffle his fur. He wanted to feel the world as it unfurled before him, with his senses tuned. He wanted to be free.
He blinked as his mother cleared his plate after smoothing her hand across his now dried hair. He watched as she did the dishes and then turned, resting herself against the counter.
“Are you ready?”
He knew that she hoped that he would say no. He knew that she was really asking if she was ready and he was simply there to witness her dilemma. He couldn’t do what she wanted… not this time. He needed to know. He gently nodded, watching her reaction as she pushed herself off of the counter and into the room.
“It’ll be okay, mom.” He knew that she wouldn’t believe him, but if it was her job to make him feel better when it hurt, to give him answers and reassurances, than it was his to offer her comfort, even if she didn’t believe him. He couldn’t help that. He couldn’t convince her that he knew that when he met the being that owned that beautiful voice, the one that made him feel as though he weren’t so small and alone, he would join with his guardian’s spirit instead of be consumed by it. Some part of him was sure that her fears were unfounded while another trusted her judgement implicitly.
He got up and followed her into her room. She disappeared into a door he didn’t recall seeing opened at any time before. The smell in there was different. He could just see the edge of colored fabric, a pale blue, something soft. It was a color that he liked. He didn’t have anything that was that color because when he picked something out, his mom would smile and gently guide him to something else. Were those his father’s things? He had no point of reference. He tested the air, trying to memorize the smell. It was just slightly different than his own. Perhaps that was just age. Perhaps it was just maturity that had been tempered with hints of dried leaves and a faint lingering dark musk.
He hadn’t realized that he had closed his eyes until his mom had said his name. He blinked up at her and smiled, which didn’t help the look of concern that took over the pout on her face. She held a box, an old file box made of cardboard, that she gently pushed into his lap.
“What’s this?” He knew but asked anyway. He knew this was meant to prove something but couldn’t understand quite what that was. He watched as she pursed her lips, frozen for a moment, before she collected herself enough to sit beside him.
“It’s your father.”