Prophetic Words of Wisdom

Diana

The concern on his face was apparent, but I tried to block it as I kept up my guard. He couldn't control me, and the sooner he learned that the easier it would be for him.

I knew my faults, stubbornness always getting me into trouble, but without it, I wouldn't have become an expert at the violin, my fingers blistering in the early days of my training, nor would I be here, in Germany, meeting my grandmother and glaring up at a man who found me in the woods before I was torn apart by what I was no longer calling a bear, but a dang shapeshifter! My stubbornness had a mind of its own, but unfortunately for others, it was usually spotted.

He worked his jaw as he pondered what to do with me. I could be a handful; I didn't deny that, but not to sound cocky, I knew my worth as well. I would take the protection but not at the expense of my freedom. I was more of the 'wait on the helicopter until I get the all-clear to join the landing team' kind of person versus 'waiting on the sofa for a phone call.'

Our staring contest got us nowhere; I took a step toward Michael and reached out to take his hands in mine. I gave them a tight squeeze, proving to him I was not as weak as he painted me.

"Help me, Michael. Help me understand why I'm still standing with all my limbs, my insides still inside me, the air still in my lungs." I released one of his hands and pulled out my necklace. "Is this the reason I'm alive? Did it ward off a werewolf, or a shapeshifter or something?" I asked, gripping the necklace that had always been a part of me, but only now had true meaning. The change in Michael was instant as he pulled back from me, snarling at my necklace.

"Sorry," I said, somehow knowing it was the necklace that made him recoil with disgust. "I need to understand."

He snapped his jaw shut, turning away from me, that guard he got whenever we got close back up again.

"Do your research then," he said, unable to look at me, but gave Francis a curt nod. Managing to avoid facing me, he grabbed my chin, giving me the gentlest of caresses, as an apology or warning. I couldn't be sure, but it left me wanting to follow after him to find out. Once he was gone from my sight, the feeling vanished and I was once again annoyed by his ability to take my mind and scrambled it up into mushy dough balls.

"He was so infuriating," I mumbled. I almost forgot that Francis stayed behind and watched as he melted into the seat in front of me.

"Don't mind him too much. It's only because he cares for you that he worries," he said, his voice pleasantly melodic and calming.

"Cares? He seems like he wants to control me somehow, my thoughts, telling me what to do, and when to feel, even preventing me from acting on the feeling I have, always pulling away. I don't get it, he…," I cut myself off, remembering that I was conversing with a guy and friend of the man I was venting about and not with one of my friends back home. "Sorry, I shouldn't have said anything. He just takes over my common sense and seeing that I don't for him, is very on-brand for me."

"Quite the contrary, I should think. I've known Michael for…" he cleared his throat, "a long time. This is the first time I've seen him in such an uproar over a woman. It's been amusing watching him wrestle his nature to protect while also trying to release his grip on domination and regimentation. Modern women have turned the tides on courtship, and he's not well versed in that anymore," he explained, a laugh buried deep in his throat.

His speech was odd, almost out of time, and yet he spoke it so elegantly that it couldn't be anything but his natural speech pattern. His words and the way he strung them together managed to seep into my head though, clearing the fog of self-perseverance I put up whenever I came across someone blocking me from what I wanted. I hated that trait of mine; I lashed out, completely forgetting all forms of rationality.

Michael was the first person for whom I actually allowed my feelings to run free and true, whether they be good or bad. How could I have forgotten the days I spent with him just listening to me drone on from topic to topic and eating up every word I spoke? He had this way of making me feel like I was the most important and interesting person he had ever met and yet regulating what he told me in return. He spoke honestly, just with gaps.

"He's a good man, I know that. I want to get closer to him, I want him to trust that I won't do anything foolish, or put myself in harm's way just because. I also like how he protects me, but I need him to know that I like it because it makes me feel safe and brave enough to do something I'd be too scared to try without it." I sighed and continued, "Francis, eleven of my friends are dead. The police clearly have no way of stopping this. Look at this table, so much death and no one is doing anything about it. I don't want to end up like my friends, of course, I don't, but their deaths and my survival have to mean more than luck. I got lucky, or is there more to the story?" I finished, grabbing my necklace through my shirt.

Francis inhaled and leaned back in his chair and crossed his legs on his other one and eyed me, not with anger but with respect and understanding.

"Well, it seems like you'll be needing some armor before continuing this battle," he said, his eyes shifting from smiling to serious."It won't be impossible, but Michael will have a hard time adjusting to protecting himself from you, instead of in front. He lost someone, a woman. He loved Anna and he wasn't able to protect her. Since Anna died, he kept his women at a distance, not to say he wasn't a lady's man, but none had him traipsing through the woods just to ensure their safety. It may not look like it, but he's trying. It is his nature to protect those he cares about, but when it comes to his heart, the easiest form of protection is avoidance. If he could slice and cut, bite through love, he'd face it head-on, but love is cunning and tricky, and wounds last much longer. But Diana," he said my name, dropping his leg and leaning forward, "I think you are cunning enough to combat his shielded heart," he whispered as if speaking any louder would ignite the drums those words already had my heart thumping from.

He had a way of speaking that moved me, like bobbing on the waves of the ocean. It gave me a sense of comfort that I desperately needed.

"Come, let's pack this up. I know he is interested as well, though he hides it. He's very much invested in the well-being of Bamberg. These findings are indeed helpful," he added.

I nodded, grateful that he acknowledged my hard work. We packed up my findings and somehow his artful way of penning words together managed to convince me to go with him to Michael's house.

Nothing looked familiar as we headed away from town and into the thick of the woods. I was anxious to see Michael, feeling foolish because of my childish antics and blind to his blatant distress of me once again jumping headfirst into the unknown. He was far more patient with me than I was with him.

I spent the rest of the drive trying to channel Francis and his magical way of speaking which was both honest and yet unweaving.