Chapter 26: Entangled

Life is not a carefully woven tapestry, pristine and perfect, but rough and wild.
And, each day we find ourselves ever more entangled within its web.

A Fool's Book of Wisdom

Khalid sat disconsolately on a bundle of hay he had pulled into Edgar's stall. The man's posture showed the depths of his dejection. His elbows rested on his thighs, his face cradled within the palms of both hands, his shoulders sagging, his entire body slumped forward.

"What am I to do, Edgar? Each day she seems to withdraw further into herself and away from me. It seems that nothing I do helps her in the slightest. And, the strangest thing is that I have no idea why it bothers me so. She is just my friend ... you know. If she wishes to pout, I should just leave her alone. After all, I can think of a great number of things that I can do to occupy my time. After all, I am in Paris. I could view an opera or patronize a bordel! And what do I do? I sit here talking to an ass. Please do not take offense, mon ami. Do not glare at me, Edgar! You know that I only speak the unembellished truth! You are an ass, quite literally. And, for that matter, so am I. Helen may be my friend, but since I am speaking the truth to you, I must admit that I want more from her than her companionship. I only wish that I had the courage to tell her what I feel, but I know that she would never believe me. She believes her face is too hideous for anyone to love. Yet, Erik loves her, the girl loves her and I love her as well. She hides behind a wall of cynicism, which colors her every word until they drip with a venomous sarcasm. I realize that she has every reason to distrust humanity for I have seen the scorn they heap upon her, but after all these years ... I just thought that if I kept coming back to her and stayed around long enough, she would see the truth of how I feel. But, it seems that will never be the case. Do you want to know something, Edgar? This is very amusing in a pathetic sort of way, but I will not give up on her. I cannot. I love her and nothing will ever change how I feel."

"And, how exactly is it that you feel, Monsieur?"

Khalid gaped as a tall woman with long, dark hair swept through the partially open door and into the barn. His eyes widened with surprise as he took in her appearance. It seemed from the way her arms wrapped tightly around her body that they were all but holding up the dress she wore. He ran puzzled eyes over her and frowned. Something about the woman sent a shiver of recognition through his confused mind, but he quickly dismissed it as a rush of fear ran through him. It clutched at his heart as he recognized the dress the woman had draped loosely about her.

"Madame, I realize this is a rather indelicate question, but the situation warrants my asking. How exactly did you come to wear the dress you hold precariously about your person and where is the owner of said dress? I swear, if you injured my friend, I shall forget that you are a woman and you shall not leave this place unaided..."

Peels of tinkling bell-like laughter halted his tirade and he ceased mid-sentence as the familiar sound washed over his ears.

"That laugh, I know it! It is she! But, how can this be true? This woman looks nothing like Helen. She is younger, taller, thinner, her eyes bluer, her skin smooth and utterly stunning. She is everything that Helen is not, yet, Helen's laugh issues from between her lips. This cannot be! Is there some enchantment, which clouds my eyes? How can this be?"

"Helen, how... ?" His voice a choked and ragged utterance.

He stood there entranced, as the woman paced with all the grace of a caged panther back and forth before him. Khalid silently ran his eyes over the length of her body and wondered what lay hidden within the excess of material. Raising his eyes to her face, he took note of her raven-colored hair, which had streaks of gray and white shot through it. The strands of white gave the appearance of sparkling highlights in the dim candlelit interior of the nighttime barn. Her deep sapphire blue eyes sparkled and flashed and the man could not decide if they gleamed from the light or from a deep merriment.

"And, I do not care what causes it. Her eyes are beautiful. Her lips, her hair ... mon Dieu! She is beautiful! It is Helen. If there is magic afoot, I find that I do not care. And yet, how can this be?"

His mind wrapped around this single thought, caught in an endless loop. A low, sultry chuckle finally broke his frantic pondering. She halted several steps in front of him and waited for the stunned man to act. He remained frozen, locked in his shock. She cocked her head and studied him carefully when he made no move toward her. She sighed and holding her hands out to the man, took a cautious step forward.

"Does it matter how? Khalid, it is still me, Helen."

Her throaty voice soft, husky, uncertain. She hesitantly took another step towards the man and lifted her arms higher. Her eyes now glistened with unshed tears, which she fought valiantly to contain behind her rapidly blinking eyelids.

"Mon homme le plus précieux, magnifique¹! Does anything else truly matter right now? Time enough for explanations later."

The man remained silent, staring warily at the woman.

"She offers everything that I have ever wanted. So, why can I not move? She is so beautiful!"

Her hands fell to her sides, dropping silently as their movement unleashed the torrent of tears, which splashed and ran down her smooth cheeks. She turned from him and began to stumble back towards the door of the barn. The moment Helen's eyes broke contact with Khalid, he snapped free of the malaise that had held him tightly within its malevolent grip. He started forward, gasping.

"No! Helen, wait! Please do not go!"

She froze and he rushed to her side, placing a trembling hand upon her equally shaking shoulder, but she did not turn to look at him.

"No, Helen. Please do not cry. You must understand that this ... this ... uh, er, well, you ... I ... um ... damn it! Of all the ... I never expected ... I had no idea! I am so sorry! I did not mean to make you cry..." He managed to stammer. "Please turn around, Helen."

She slowly turned, sliding out from under the hold his hand had on her shoulder and stood before him, her face wet with her tears. Her bottom lip quivering and her eyes shining. Khalid gasped at the pain, longing, love and hope, which radiated from the dark, liquid depths of her gaze.

"Allah, preserve me! It is true! Helen!"

And, without either one realizing they had moved, their bodies smashed together in a desperate, but long desired, embrace.

Jacob shifted his position on the branch and shivered as a bitterly cold breeze rippled through the tree. He clutched his woolen cloak tighter about his body and forced his thoughts away from his physical discomfort to focus them upon the rustic cottage. The old woman was inside her bedroom, yet again. She sat stiffly upon the wooden rocking chair, unmoving. He frowned.

"Damn! Oh, please, not another night spent in the chair! I just do not believe that my arse can take another hour in this tree. Aw, fuck!" He shivered slightly as another gust of wind whipped about him. "There is something in the air; something that puts me of a mind to believe that the devil holds a candle to the wind this night. Aye, surely it is that. An ill-wind blows, Jacob. An ill-wind blows through to steal unrepentant souls. Bloody hell! Was the money worth the price of your soul?"

The man ceased talking quietly to himself, his words giving way to softly muttered curses, but he continued to watch the wrinkled lump of flesh perched stiffly upon the still chair. After a time, he fell back into an uneasy silence, his nerves screaming, sending shocks stinging through his body with every creaking branch or rustling leaf. The night deepened, but seemed to drag on interminably as he waited. He waited in growing anticipation of the unknown. And, then he noticed that the forest had gone hushed, as if it too held its breath as it waited along with him. His eyes ached, his arse numb, but he refused to move, lest he miss it ... whatever "it" was. A sudden wind whipped through the forest, seeming to draw with it the very air about him towards the modest cottage in the wood. A loose shutter banged as the wind descended upon Helen's home, but he refused to allow his attention to leave the old woman. He watched in stunned silence as the wave of air swept into the old woman's room and enveloped her, which caused her long grey hair to swirl about her face. Oblivious to the maelstrom surrounding her, Jacob watched her eyes flash open and her hand slammed fiercely down onto the arm of her chair. He gasped and his mouth gaped in shock as a brilliant crimson bolt of light struck the old woman's chest with such force that it knocked her chair backwards and she rolled onto the floor. Unable to move, Jacob watched the still, crumpled body and he felt something deep within him break and split in two. Then, she moved and he could breathe once more. She lifted trembling hands to her head, as if to rub away a pain there. The man swore he could hear the woman moan as she struggled to her hands and knees before rising on wobbling legs to her feet. Jacob blinked and leaned forward as his eyes took in the sight of long raven tresses cascading down the woman's back.

"Oh, bloody hell! The queer cuffin may as well bestow the cramp word upon me, as I am as likely to find success in palaver with Xavier about this as I am to finding myself bleeding emperor of France²!"

All thought left his mind as the woman turned and he caught sight of her face. He watched with rapt attention as she stood still for a moment, her mouth working in silent conversation before she strode across the room in the direction of her door. Her purposeful stride broke as something seemed to catch her eye and Jacob realized from the glint of light near her hand that she had stopped before a mirror. He continued to watch in wonder as he saw the woman gaze at her reflection, only now realizing the miraculous transformation that had occurred. Tears that Jacob felt could only be tears of joy, coursed down her cheeks as she stared in awe at her face. Tearing her eyes from the mirror, she hiked up her skirts and ran from the room. Before Jacob could react, he heard a door slam and he saw the woman, still holding up her gathered skirts, run the short distance between the cottage and the barn. She slowed at the entrance and gently pushed open the door. Then, after unconsciously patting her hair, she slipped inside the barn and out of Jacob's view.