The Awkward Love Song of Abigail Archer

Chapter Thirteen

Marcus had yet to say a word. The intention to tell Abigail where they were going once they reached a reasonable distance from the Timekeeper had been there. However, after one block led to another, that led to three, that led to ten, Marcus let things fall as they may. Whether he told Abigail of their destination or not, she would find out.

When they reached the eleventh floor apartment with still a word unspoken, he embraced destiny. After all, was it not the very hand of Fate that ordered their steps there, leaving them before the metal door of his apartment with little option but to face the truth?

Marcus pushed the door open. There was darkness and quiet. The silence, however, could not have drifted farther from the serene nature expected from its name. Thunderous, it hummed around them, watching, wanting, and waiting. It lingered close with violent bolts of anticipation. Marcus's skin grew chilled under a cold sweat.

Abigail, too, was as uneasy as she was curious. Could she be blamed? Who wouldn't wonder where they were and why, after spending time in the privacy of their room above the repair shop, did Marcus now bring her here? Surely she must have wondered if this was another soul to collect. But Marcus could almost hear the silent question that followed her logic: Why, after a night of misting through countless doors, did he have the key to this dark apartment? He stepped aside to let her pass.

Abigail walked into the apartment. Her eyes scanned the darkness erratically as if wanting to take it all in at once and gather her answer with one look. Marcus smirked bitterly. If she only knew her answer would come soon.

Marcus turned to close the door. He froze. There was no one there. Yet, just as the lives of his charges misted before his eyes in those last moments of life, he watched the possibilities of a life not yet lived float past on the opposite side of that door. Foreign daydreams invaded his mind. Futile, senseless illusions anchored themselves to his thoughts and materialized into invisible wisps of smoky torture that teased his sanity.

First, in the most secret corners of his mind, were thoughts of waking beside Abigail, day after blessed day. The foggy figments bewitched him with images of Abigail accepting him once learning of his dark truth. Just as she had done hours before, she would choose to stay by his side after all was revealed. Those were the deliriums of Hope.

Desire then fogged in with wishful dreams of discovering the changes of the seasons on Abigail's bare skin, the coolness of her touch during the hot summer months, and its warmth during the blistering cold. Thoughts of endless nights under her spell and sleepy kisses ushering them both to sleep, swirled about. Marcus's body hardened. He could remember her kiss so clearly.

Last to arrive, swaying invisibly into his sight was the one responsible for the early morning congregation of secret callers. Marcus didn't know Her, but heavens did he know of Her. Surely it was the effects of Her spell alone that could have birthed such madness in his life. Was She not known as the fickle force behind the greatest of joys and the most painful of heartaches? Standing there, between Hope and Desire, was none other than Love.

With a smile of frozen stars, She caressed Marcus with thoughts of a future. Of things he'd never thought of yet found his heart yearning for, a home and, perhaps, even a family of his own. His throat swelled. Yes, with Love in his life he could have Abigail and, together, a family of their own.

In the brightly lit hall, these ghosts of promise raised their glasses. Hope, Desire, and Love waited for Marcus to join them, to drink from them, and take Abigail from that apartment. Their whispers revealed the key to everything they were offering him. To accept them, Marcus would have to reject Truth forever and lose himself to Secret who lingered close, hiding, waiting, and ready to take Truth to the darkest parts of Marcus's soul.