From Another Place Ch 01

Author's note: This story is a counterpart to my previous piece, "From Heaven..." I decided to see what would happen if I started with the same situation, but -- as you'll see -- a lead female character who is very different from Ariel. I'm not sure whether the idea will work, but I'm going to persist with it for a while -- the possibilities are interesting.

Thanks to hodunk, cannd and others for the feedback and appreciative comments on "From Heaven..."; I hope you enjoy this story, though I have a feeling it may be darker and not such easy reading (or writing!).

(I should also mention that of course this piece, even more than the last one, owes a lot to the Screwtape Letters)

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As I came in to land, I folded my wings, settling lightly on the balls of my feet. The path was rough, small stones and twigs pressing through my thin soles.

I looked around. It was getting dark, and I could feel that the breeze was cooling. I gave the little shrug that I'd been taught, and my wings vanished, leaving me with only a slight tingling between my shoulder blades.

I started to walk toward the lights in the distance, remembering the instructions I'd been given: Find him, do whatever it takes to turn him.

As I reached the first buildings, I started to pass people, in couples and groups, and I smiled inwardly as I picked up the edges of their thoughts -- the men stealing glances at the scantily-clad girls, the young women longing for love and wondering what they would have to yield to get it, or at least some facsimile of it.

I felt eyes on me, and turned, seeing a group of young men looking at me. "All by yourself, darling?" one of them called, his companions grinning. I returned his glance, tempted, but I reminded myself of my mission.

I walked on, sensing that I was close to my goal. I reached an intersection, and deliberately stepped out as though in front of the oncoming traffic. I felt a hand on my shoulder restraining me. "Careful -- you just missed the green."

I turned, and felt a surge of satisfaction, of anticipation. It was him.

"Thanks, Tim." I gave him my most appealing smile.

His face took on an expression of puzzlement. "I'm sorry, have we met?"

I grinned. "You could say that -- it was quite a while ago." He smiled. "Can't be that long ago -- you can only be around my daughter's age, right?"

I returned his smile, but didn't speak.

He shook his head. "Sorry, the memory's not as good as it was, remind me of your name?"

"Just call me Amy," I said.

"Well, pleased to meet you again, Amy. I'm sure when you tell me how we met, everything will start to come back to me."

He paused. "Are you in town for long?"

"I don't know yet," I said truthfully. "Depends how things go."

"Where are you staying?"

"I haven't found anywhere yet, I've only just arrived."

He smiled. "Then that's easily solved. You're welcome to stay at my place for as long as you need -- now Sally's at college, there's plenty of room."

"Thanks, Tim," I said, "that'd be great."

"I was just walking back to the car," he said. "Is there anything else you need to do in town just now?"

I shook my head. "Then let's get home," he said, "and I'll find us something to eat. Do you have any luggage anywhere?"

"No, travelling light," I smiled.

We walked together to the side street where his car was parked, and he held the door for me. I settled in the leather seat, and he slid behind the wheel.

"Don't forget your seat belt," he said, leaning close to me as he reached across to fasten my belt. "Compulsory in this state."

I nodded, distracted by a hint of fragrance from his skin. "Nice smell," I said without thinking.

He smiled. "I'm glad you like it -- Sally usually gets me aftershave for my birthday, and this one's my favourite."

He started the car, and I glanced out of the window as we headed out of town, the seedy downtown buildings giving way to wide avenues lined with trees.

Tim turned in through wrought-iron gates, pulling up outside a large Georgian-style house.

"Impressive place," I said.

"Thanks," he replied slowly. "It feels very empty now Sally's gone. And Sarah..."

I nodded, trying to imagine how it felt, to lose someone that close to you. If I could know how he was feeling, perhaps I could use it as a lever.

He opened the front door, letting me go in first. I smiled to myself -- if he knew who -- what -- I really was, I doubted he'd show me such courtesy.

Tim indicated the stairs. "Up to the first landing, the door on the right, that's Sally's old room. It has an en-suite, take your time freshening up, then we'll have something to eat."

I followed his directions, and closed the door of the room behind me, sitting on the bed to gather my thoughts. So I was here, and he'd accepted me, though I'd have to be even more creative in explaining how he and I had first met.

I glanced at myself in the long mirror on the wall, wondering how he saw me -- dark hair and eyes, my dress in a shimmering silver fabric reaching just below my knees.

I opened the door and followed the sound of Tim humming quietly to himself. I reached the kitchen, and he turned. "How about pizza?"

I nodded. "That'd be great." I pulled a sense of something strongly-flavoured, spicy, from his mind. "I really like it hot -- jalapenos. And a few olives?"

Tim grinned. "My favourite."

He picked up the phone and ordered, then glanced at me. "Drink?"

"Please."

"What's your poison?"

I glanced up sharply, then grinned, realising it was just a figure of speech. "Do you have vodka?"

"Sure. Tonic?"

"That'd be great -- ice and lemon too, if you've got it." He busied himself making drinks, then handed me a glass, moisture beading on the cold surface. "Cheers."

I sipped, tasting the alcohol on my tongue, and for a moment I was tempted to allow it to affect me a little, to let Tim think my inhibitions were loosening. Regretfully I decided that it was too soon, that such a direct approach would risk him pulling away, offended. I'd have to be much more subtle.

I sat down, crossing my legs, and Tim sprawled on the sofa opposite me. "So, put me out of my misery, when did you and I first meet?"

"I suppose it was when Sally was about fifteen," I said. "I remember her being a bit of a scamp." But not mischievous enough, I thought to myself. My attempts to use what had happened to drive her into wholesale rebellion had never quite come off.

Tim nodded. "It was a difficult time for both of us. But she's a good girl, always has been."

I forced myself to smile. "I'm glad."

I paused. "I moved away after a year or so, and I haven't really been back since, but then this job came up."

"That's great," Tim said. "What will you be doing?"

I hesitated briefly. "I can't really talk about it."

Tim picked up my hesitation, and held up his hand. "Don't worry, I understand. The world's a lot more complicated these days, and even the good guys have secrets."

And the bad guys, I thought to myself.

There was a knock at the door, and Tim went out to answer it. He returned carrying two large flat boxes, handing one to me.

I opened the lid, and breathed in the heat, and the spicy tang of the peppers. "Mm, smells good."

We started to eat, and I saw Tim beginning to perspire a little. "This is my favourite," he said, "but it is pretty hot."

He glanced across at me. "You look as cool as a cucumber."

I shrugged. "Guess I'm used to it."

When we'd finished eating, Tim said, "Another drink?"

I shook my head, doing my best to look demure. "One's my limit."

Tim nodded. "Work tomorrow. Do you have to start early?"

"Not really. I'll fit around your routine." I smiled inwardly: Tim had no idea how close to his routine I intended to be.

"OK. Well, I'm going to have an early night, you're welcome to read or to watch TV if you're not ready for bed yet."

I stretched, and pretended to stifle a yawn. "Actually I'm pretty tired myself."

I followed Tim up the stairs, turning at the door of Sally's room. "Night, then."

"Night, Amy."

I shut the door behind me and sat down on the bed, then closed my eyes and reached out my senses to the room across the landing.

Tim was already in bed, and as he drifted off to sleep I began to watch the random impressions and fleeting dreams that chased through his mind, looking for anything that I might be able to use.

The morning light started to filter through the curtains, and I sensed Tim stirring. By the time he reached the kitchen, his hair wet from the shower, I was sitting at the kitchen table. "Morning, Tim. I made you coffee."

He smiled. "Thanks."

He took a sip. "Two sugars, just right. How did you know?"

I shrugged. "I guessed -- the sugar bowl was on the counter."

He opened a cupboard. "You OK with cereal for breakfast?"

"Sure."

Tim filled bowls for us, and poured milk onto his. "Sally always loves the crackling noise these make."

He glanced at me. "Wish I knew how you girls do it. This time in the morning, and you're already dressed, not a hair out of place."

I grinned. "Long practice..."

When Tim had finished eating, he put his bowl in the sink. "I have to get going. I left you a key on the hall table so you can come and go. Do you know what time you'll be back tonight? I'll cook something."

I thought for a moment. "That'd be great. I'll be here when you get back."

"OK. I hope your first day goes well, and your boss isn't too hard on you."

I suppressed a shiver as I thought of what my superiors might well do to me if this assignment didn't go as planned, but I gave Tim a warm smile. "Hope you have a good day too."

I watched Tim walk to his car, then get in and drive off. As the car disappeared from sight, I walked out into the hall, ignoring the key on the table. I glanced in the mirror, feeling the usual sensation of lightness as I willed myself into invisibility.

I stepped through the closed front door, hardly noticing the faint hum as the ghostly outline of the timber passed through me.

I stood on the gravel of the drive, and gave a shrug, feeling again the familiar sensation of my wings arching behind and above me. I flexed them, rising into the air, and soon I was behind and above Tim's car, watching as he drove down the freeway, already preoccupied with the work waiting for him at the office.

I extended my senses, and noticed a truck on an intersecting road, its driver oblivious to the lights against him at the approaching junction as he spoke on his cellphone.

I thought rapidly. It was no job of mine to keep Tim from harm, but I'd not even had a chance to begin the task I'd been sent here for -- to twist him where I could, to corrupt or embitter him. To set him firmly on a path leading away from the light.

"Damned if I do and damned if I don't," I muttered. I projected my will at the lights, turning the one facing Tim red. I watched as he slowed, the speeding truck shooting across the intersection in front of him. I felt Tim's heart accelerate, then he shook his head. "Someone must be looking out for me."

He continued on his journey to work, parking outside the office building, and I followed him up to his office and took up a position in the corner.

Nothing as dramatic happened for the rest of the day, though I did surreptitiously give his mug of coffee the final push it needed to slide off the edge of the desk as he moved a stack of papers. I was rewarded by a mild curse as Tim mopped up the spilt coffee with napkins, and he was perceptibly more impatient with his secretary for the rest of the afternoon.

At the end of the day, Tim made the journey home, and as he approached the gates at the end of his drive, I pulled ahead of him, landing in the hall and quickly returning to visibility. I slipped the key into a fold of my dress, and went through to the living room, settling back into the chair I'd occupied the previous evening.

I heard Tim's key in the door, and he walked into the room, looking tired. "Hi, Amy. How did your day go?"

I smiled. "OK -- think the boss was pleased with one or two things I did. You?"

He nodded. "Though I nearly didn't get there at all -- some idiot ran a crossing as I was on the way, it was pure luck that the lights were changing to red as I got there."

I managed what I hoped was a convincing frown. "Wow, I'm glad you're OK."

Tim smiled. "Well, maybe it's more than just luck, maybe someone is looking out for me."

He looked at the sofa, then said, "I know if I sit down, I won't want to get up again to make dinner."

"I'll give you a hand," I offered.

"That'd be really helpful," he said. "Anything particular you'd like?"

"Let me take a look in the freezer. Perhaps I can surprise you."

"I'll open a bottle of wine," Tim said, "After the day I've had, I could use a drink."

We went through to the kitchen, and Tim found a bottle, pouring a generous glass for each of us. "Cheers."

I sipped, then put my glass down on the kitchen table and opened the door of the freezer.

"Great," I said. "You have all sorts of stuff -- I think I could make a pretty good Chinese."

Tim smiled. "Go right ahead."

I started to pull pans from the shelves and select spices from the rack. Soon I had several pans sizzling on the stove, and Tim said, "That smells great."

"You sit down and enjoy your wine," I said. "The great thing about Chinese is that it doesn't take long."

After a few more minutes of stirring and adding an extra pinch or two of spices, I piled food on plates and joined Tim at the table.

"Wow," he said, "this is amazing. Where did you learn to cook like this?"

"I had a summer job working in a restaurant, and I picked things up from the chef as I went along." I forbore to mention what century that summer had been in, and that my main reason for being there was to encourage the chef into an opium habit that eventually ruined him.

Tim closed his eyes as he savoured a mouthful. "Great."

We finished eating, and Tim refilled our glasses. "Shall we get more comfortable?"

We went through into the living room, and I took the same seat as the previous day while Tim sank into the sofa with a sigh.

He frowned. "Work again tomorrow, but then we can enjoy the weekend."

He glanced across at me. "Unless you already have plans?"

I shook my head. "I don't want to be in your way, though."

He shook his head. "Are you kidding? Having company will be a real treat, and I can show you around a little as you're new to the area. We can get out of town, it's not far to the desert and I know some places where we can see some amazing wildlife."

"I'd love that," I said.

We talked for a while longer, then Tim suppressed a yawn. "I think that wine has made me even more ready to get some sleep," he said, "I'll leave you to it -- see you for breakfast."

Again I waited till he was upstairs, and this time went into his room, willing myself into invisibility before sitting in the chair that faced the bed. This time the thoughts that fleeted across Tim's mind as he slept were more fragmentary, darker, and he tossed and turned restlessly.

When he came down to breakfast the next morning he still looked tired. "I had all sorts of disturbing dreams," he said, frowning. "Can't quite remember what they were."

After breakfast he set off for work, and I followed his car closely through the heavy traffic. The day was uneventful, with little opportunity to try Tim's patience, and he arrived back at home looking more optimistic.

"That's over for another week," he said as he was hanging up his coat. "My turn to cook -- how do you fancy Italian?"

"Great," I said. I followed him through to the kitchen and sat down at the table.

Tim cooked spaghetti bolognese, going heavy on the garlic, and despite myself I enjoyed the rich tomato flavour of the sauce, enhanced by the parmesan Tim offered to grate over my meal.

Again we went to bed early, and I contented myself with watching him sleep. I was certain the weekend would provide enough opportunities to suit my purpose.

In the morning after breakfast Tim bustled around preparing for our trip. "How about a picnic for lunch?" he suggested. "I've got stuff in."

"Good idea," I said. He quickly packed a bag, and we got in the car. A few miles out of town, Tim turned off onto a dusty track, driving for while longer before pulling up.

"It's a bit of a walk down to the canyon," he said, "but I've brought water, and it's worth it when we get there."

After we'd walked for about an hour, Tim was starting to perspire, and he wiped his face with a handkerchief, taking a long drink from the water bottle.

He looked across at me. "It doesn't look like the heat's getting to you at all," he said, "you obviously tolerate it better than I do. But you still need to drink."

He wiped the top of the bottle with the back of his hand, and passed it to me. I drank, then handed it back.

We reached the bottom of the canyon, and Tim stopped. "Cooler here."

He pointed up at the rock face. "There's what we came to see."

I shaded my eyes and looked. "There's a ledge."

He nodded. "Wait." He leaned against a boulder, and I leaned next to him, feeling his arm just touching mine.

After a few minutes, I saw a dark shape in the air above the canyon, and a bird came to a landing on the ledge. It was carrying something in its talons, still moving, and I sensed a reaction further back in the ledge. I carefully extended my senses to look closer.

"There are chicks," I said.

Tim smiled. "Yes, there are four -- and the mother seems to be a good hunter, they're doing well."

I saw the image in his mind of the female bird swooping on an unsuspecting small creature, and I felt a thrill pass through me at the reminder that in this world, every creature was either predator or prey.