Page 77 of Heartsong
It was almost a relief for something other than his chest to ache.
Frey tumbled between the wind and the waves for a long while, following a pod of whales and touching a toe to the glowing blue water that crashed against the shore. He filled his lungs with fresh air and twisted through complicated aerial maneuvers.
None of it filled the gashing hole inside him that longed for his mate.
A taste of freedom soothed but did not sate him.
He wanted his heartsong, whether or not she wanted him.
So Frey turned back, flying south. The lights of the great city shone for miles, a beacon calling him back to his Anna.
There was no fog for cover this night, so Frey flew high, in the colder air that was like a thousand little slices against his exposed skin.
It took him longer than usual to find his mate’s building so high up. He descended in a tight spiral, arms and legs locked into a streamline shape. His final landing was silent, his claws catching on the roof of the building diagonal from Anna’s apartment.
He stood in place, listening. When nothing moved nor raised an alarm, Frey crept toward the edge to survey the area.
The new perspective on the street offered a little more information—mostly that that large vehicle was still parked across from Anna’s apartment. He growled at it, suspicion inciting his instinct to protect.
His glaring at the vehicle was interrupted when something moved in Anna’s window. He watched as the blinds were drawn up and the window left unlatched. For a moment, he caught sight of his beautiful mate, framed in the window and bathed in moonlight. There was something ethereal, almost ghostly about her standing there, and Frey thought she looked sad.
Soon she disappeared from the window, and the apartment went completely dark.
Did…she leave it open for me?
His hopeful heart lurched.
Captain soon took up his post at the sill, grooming his paws. It was as if the cat too waited for Frey’s return.
He ground his back teeth, the uncertainty agonizing.
Leave me alone,she’d said.
But why else would she leave her window open?
Hope was a painful thing, and Frey decided he didn’t yet have the words to say to his Anna everything he thought and felt. She deserved those words, not said in anger. When he knew what he would say, and if she left her window open for him again, he would return to her.
Until then, he would watch over and protect her how he could.
Anna woke strung out from all her meds and still with a tension headache twinging at the base of her skull. Groaning, she fumbled for her phone and blindly opened it to call in sick.
This was why she always tried to have at least a few days stockpiled.
Carrie was understanding as always, insisting she seek further medical attention if the headache didn’t go away soon. Anna always hoped it wouldn’t come to that; even with health insurance, an emergency room visit was an ordeal she rarely wanted to go through. Besides, she wasn’t sure she could even get herself there. At least it was her faux weekend tomorrow, giving her more time to rest.
Weak sunlight eked into her bedroom despite the blackout curtains, so Anna hauled herself up. A change of clothes and breakfast would be a good way to start the day.
But first…
She crept out of her bedroom, hope lodged like glass in her throat.
Captain greeted her, chirpy as ever. She knelt down to give him good morning scritches, asking, “Any gargoyle sightings last night?”
She peeked at the window and found it exactly as she’d left it. No statue stood in front of her door nor anywhere else in the apartment. Frey was still gone.
Disappointed and heartsick, Anna slumped into the kitchen to make a meager breakfast.
Why would he come back?
