Page 49 of Let It Snow
It’s too much to be a trick of my mind. I glance back toward the beach but see nothing, or at least nothing I can be sure of. I have to get to the bottom of this.
With a sudden surge I turn toward shore and push hard. The rainbow fish scatter, the water goes dark again.
I burst onto the beach, determined, a frown forming on my face.
I need to know who’s behind this. I already have my suspicions. Sprinting, I charge into the bushes at the left side of the lake.
The emotions burn through me so hot I can’t hold them in. I force my voice out through the pain.
"Show yourself!"
I run between the shrubs, weaving through the garden paths, but see no one.
Then I think I hear a heartbeat. I stop, scanning the shadows carefully. Above the solar lamps, tiny sparks drift in the air. Not insects! These aren’t regular fireflies. They resemble tiny butterflies, glowing in pastel colors.
I realize they’re everywhere, swarming above the lamps, spiraling in clouds. For a while they whirl in place, then drift closer. Soon I’m surrounded, the tiny lights dancing around me, sketching ribbons of color in the night. And there’s sound, faint, delicate notes, silvery tones like a faraway melody. Are they singing, or is it something else?
The whole garden turns dreamlike, magical, glowing with countless points of light. It’s so beautiful it steals my breath. I spin slowly, taking it all in, but my mind won’t rest until I know if I’m right about who’s doing this.
That steady heartbeat is still there, close by. In this stillness, with omega and alpha ears sharper than those of most hounds, I can pinpoint it. The farthest I could possibly hear in the open is maybe twenty feet, so whoever it is must be standing quite close to me.
Invisible…
I look around again, still scanning carefully. The only clue is the tiny butterflies, and I notice a spot where none of them are moving, a gap in the swirl. I start toward it, step by step, every footfall drawing me closer to that point. And then I recognize it: the darker patch, the vague outline of a human form.
The heartbeat pounds now, loud and firm. I’m standing directly in front of someone.
I lift my eyes to where his face should be, but there’s only empty air.
Pain surges through me as I push my voice out again.
"Show yourself," I demand.
For a long moment, silence.
Then, like a veil sliding away, a figure appears before me.
Snow.
He’s in nothing but dark boxers, and my breath catches. His tattoos don’t look like ink at all now. They glow, every line lit as if painted with living light. I blink hard, but it doesn’t fade. And his eyes, those too, shine, like a phosphorescent amethyst.
I can’t say a word. He doesn’t either. We just stand there in the humming quiet while the tiny butterflies swirl around us, weaving soft, unearthly music.
I want to speak so badly, but pain grips my face and chest, stopping me. I fight it, clenching my eyes shut.
Then his voice cuts through.
"Speaking hurts, doesn’t it?"
I nod slowly.
He extends his hand, in a calm gesture.
"Take my hand, and for a moment the pain will vanish. You’ll be able to speak."
I shiver at the thought of his touch.
Could this be it?
