Feminine 101

If you have not already done so, or if you are new, I recommend starting with Chapter 1. This is a linear story and will make a lot more sense read as a whole. Please leave a like, comment, or subscribe to my blog to get notifications when a new chapter is published. If I get 100 views on a single post of One More Life, I will self-publish a digital and printed copy with an exclusive Epilogue. If you only missed the last post, you can read Chapter 19 here.

It was a weary soul who crossed the waiting room, swathed in rumpled scrubs in the predawn hours. 

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Rana’s eyes fluttered open from a restless pseudo-sleep. The doctor approached them and Rana nudged Nikki awake. 

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“Are you Rana?” His voice was hoarse and his exhaustion was plain. 

Rana nodded.

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“Mr. Cargill informed the staff you’re his next-of-kin?” When she nodded again, he continued, “The surgery went well considering. Mr. Dayleigh’s legs were crushed, both tibias and his left fibula suffered multiple fractures. His muscles on the left leg were bruised and torn, while the muscles of his right calf were merely bruised. The tendons were torn all to shreds and there was significant nerve damage to both legs.” He eyed the pair of women then spoke candidly, “I have never seen such a mess in the twenty years I’ve been treating these types of injuries. We were able to set the bones, and, although they should heal well enough when you account for the extensive fragmentation, and his muscles and tendons could eventually recover most of their former strength, the nerve damage is a different story. The nerves in both legs were severed or crushed, respectively. We have attempted to reattach them, and while I feel the repairs were clean, only time will tell how effective they were.”

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“What does that mean? Will he recover?”

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The doctor looked at the beauty in her rumpled chiffon evening gown and tear-stained cheeks. But he met her eyes, deep and sad, though still warm. “It means that, even if he walks again, he may never fully recover. Either way, it’s going to be an uphill battle for a long time. ” He watched her as relief, then sadness, then relief flickered across her face in turns. 

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“Thank you. Can I see him?”

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“He’s in recovery now. The nurse will take you there so you can wait with him until they move him to his room. His vitals are strong. He’s strong.” He paused as he turned to go eyeing her, “He’ll be in and out of sleep all day, so you can probably slip out to get some more comfortable clothes.” He gestured gently toward her evening gown. 

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“Thank you,” she murmured and the doctor turned to leave. 

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Rana stood, shivering at a sudden chill. She glanced around, immediately aware of an unease she was certain she recognized. A man with dark hair and neatly trimmed beard was crossing the lobby towards the exit. He glanced in her direction and she knew him. The cruel smile that spread across his face echoed the malevolent glint in his glance. 

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What in heaven’s name was he doing here? A sudden dread settled in her stomach as she glanced toward the elevators to the patient rooms–elevators he had just quitted. She took two strides toward the elevators, Nikki starting out of her chair and moving to follow, then stopped. Rana looked toward the black-haired man. 

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Something in her urged her to follow. 

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She changed course. Slipping the shoes from her feet so she could run, she gestured for Nikki to wait. Then she raced toward the entrance. Lifting the hem of her dress, in a rather unladylike fashion, she rushed to pursue the man out into the parking lot.

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He was, unsurprisingly, climbing into a silver Escalade when she caught up and ground to a halt. Her feet lined with grime, the train of her gown dropping from her hand onto the pavement. She hesitated a moment before she called out to him. 

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“I know you.”

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He froze, his back to her. “Do you now?”

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“Yes.” Standing several steps away, she glanced around. The lot was entirely deserted cast gray like the prairie two hundred years ago. Amazing that the setting could be entirely changed, but the light, after all that time, was still the same. 

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Turning on her with a wolfish grin, he swung the door shut. It latched with a muted “thud.”

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Red heels dangling forgotten from one hand, she stood straight and spoke with soft, intense force, compelling him to answer, “Why are you here, Mesed?”

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His grin faded and he was silent for a moment, considering. “So you do know me. A soul does not rest when his work is undone. Those amateurs in the Hebrew camp,” a chord of contempt sounded in his voice, “interfering with my pièce de résistance was more than I could stand.” His French accent was flawless.

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She frowned slightly in suspicion, “It took you four thousand years?”

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His mouth contorted for the briefest moment before he smoothed it over and shrugged casually, “You are a hard couple to track down. Disappearing into the wilderness was an accidental stroke of genius.”

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“Surely you have not been searching for us all this time…” That they were not the only ones returning generation after generation stunned her. Still. It didn’t make sense that he was here now…after all this time.

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“Of course not!” He snapped. The man, however eely smooth he may be trying to appear, was plainly fraying at the edges. He held out an arm to look at the back of his hand. “There is greatness to be had in this–form–of immortality. All the power, pleasure, and wealth a man could ask for–simply begging to be grasped.” He rotated his fingers upward then clenched them into a fist. “Did I want to be a king? Did I want to seduce an empress? Did I want to swim in gold and exotic spices? I could have any of those. It was only a matter of time. And that is something of which I had a great deal.” 

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Rana looked around at the hospital parking lot that would soon fill with ordinary people going to normal jobs, visiting their very typical loved ones. The juxtaposition of her and Mesed, essentially thousands of years old, was striking. She cocked her head. “You’re a long way from kings and queens here. So why now?” Every recollection of the priest was monstrous. She remembered the vitriol that dripped from his words, the malice in his face. She recalled clearly the contempt with which he had disdained her father. They haunted her nightmares, and made her shiver at his coldness. But the man before her? That was not hatred in his posture. It wasn’t even anger. She gazed at him as his fist dropped. Bitterness, certainly–tinged with…

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Mesed recoiled as she saw him, resisting the urge to squirm, “I have watched you wrap people around your fingers. Your time has not been wasted, either, has it?” he spat, “You have learned to bend people to your own will and they are happy to do so.” 

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She ignored his accusation for the misdirection it plainly was. “You’re cursed, too, aren’t you?”

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He only stared, his face a mask.

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She nodded to herself. Confident she had hit the mark, she forged on, “And..and you’re tired.”

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Mesed glared and cast his black gaze away toward the eastern sky where the horizon barely bled pink. “How many times can one become obscenely wealthy? How much power can a man hold before it,” he faltered, “wears thin?” Now the hollowness in him was laid bare. The tailored suit, the perfectly trimmed beard, the styled hair, were to fill the eye with something–anything–to distract from the emptiness emanating from his entire being. 

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Silence stretched between them, interrupted by the occasional distant siren or revving of an engine. He stared unseeing until he felt pressure on his arm. She had closed the distance between them. He looked down into her earnest, eyes as ancient as his own. He had watched her for some time assuming that it was merely an act, a means of manipulating those around her to her own ends. After all, that was what he would have done. Her fingers gently pressed his elbow. Compassion was not a thing he could remember. 

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He found himself whispering, “I want it to be over.”

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She flinched at the pain in his voice. Four thousand years…alone. She swallowed against the sepulchral heartache that welled inside her. These lifetimes would have played out very differently for her without Nathan. Almost without realizing, she reached a decision.

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“What can we do?” 

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He blinked in surprise. His eyes narrowed, “I don’t think you understand w–”

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“–what you’ve done? That Nathan is up there,” she gestured toward the towering medical complex now bathed in an amber, predawn glow, “because of you?” 

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It was Mesed’s turn to flinch. This wreck was most certainly his handiwork. It was his nature to resort to destruction to bring about his ends. He’d used that ruthlessness to steal money, thrones, women, and more to great effect. Although, in the end, it did not satisfy. It was almost as though the lovers’ curse was fully his. He could hear his own words ringing in his ears, but they sang  with a taunting lilt. He had pursued. He had conquered. He had…

Nothing. 

He looked down at her. Rana had always been beautiful. Had the lost prince not returned, she would likely have married a man of power, one like himself. How different would he be with her at his side? She was gentle and compassionate, though her temper apparently had its limits. He could see it now, churning beneath flawless skin. Her anger, though held in check, was still a force to be reckoned with.

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“You think that by destroying us, it will finish this once and for all.”

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He only nodded. 

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“But you’re wrong.” She could not pinpoint how she knew, but she did. She was certain. “You can’t end it on your own and I think you know that, too.”

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Sighing, she felt the fatigue of the sleepless night weighing on her even as the first rays of sunlight seeped between a pair of buildings on the horizon. She needed to rest. She needed to think. And she needed to speak with her beloved. 

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“Listen, I need a shower and a change of clothes. Nathan will not be awake for a while, yet. I’m going to go home and change. I’ll be back here soon. Can I convince you not to do anything else until we speak again?” 

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Mesed’s expression was a tangle of weariness, resentment, distrust, and just the barest hint of hope. “When?”

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“Tonight,” she turned on a heel, then glanced back, “I’ll see you at seven in the ICU.”

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