Elysium by Jennifer Marie Brissett Read Free Book Online Page B

is not going well,” he said.
    “The war …” she said. So far away. Meaningless to her just hours before. Now it was everything.
    “I think they will be shipping me out soon.”
    “Then let’s make the most of the time we have,” she replied.
    They sat on the bed together. He kissed her deeply. She tasted the sweet saltiness of him. The slip and moistness of his tongue in her mouth. The soft juiciness of his lips. She undid her robe and removed her shirt. She moved his hand to a place no one else had gone to before. A promise broken — for him. For Antoine. She opened and received all he had to give.
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5.
    The owl, sensing the cool of the evening, opened its eyes. It turned its head to see in all directions. It was hungry. There — hiding among the trees — now in the bushes — something scurried. The something knew it was being watched. The owl waited for the slightest lapse in judgment. … Wings expanded. Wide. Wider. Fly. Fast. Faster. Talons extended, down through the air. Silent death. It pounced to take its prey squeaking into the trees. The owl snapped the thing’s neck to stop its scream, then devoured it.

    In the sanctuary surrounded by manicured forest, they kept the holy silence. Unnecessary noise was frowned upon. The Sisters walked close to the walls like mice and bowed their heads in greeting instead of saying hello. Their steps were slow and careful lest they make a sound. A tug on a sleeve to get the attention of another. A whisper instead of a spoken word. They lived separate from everyone in these old ways taken from the old country, just like this building, brick by brick, stone by stone, statue by statue, painting by painting. Traditions left unchanged and unquestioned and so ancient that no one remembered when they started or why. Outside, times might be changing. But behind these walls, nothing did.
    Sister Adrianne posed near the inner courtyard where a tabby cat lived to enjoy watching him roam among the wild flowers and drink from the stone fountain. Adrianne was one of few who would leave him some food in a tiny bowl. Sometimes she left a little cream or a small piece of salmon. She liked to see him bathe in the sunlight and turn over on his back to expose his belly. But today, a heavy gray sky and a few drips of quickening rain told of the coming storm. Adrianne opened the glass door to let the cat in.
    “No need for you to get all wet,” she whispered.
    The cat meowed gratefully and slipped through the door, purred lightly, and rubbed against Adrianne’s shin. She bent down to scratch him behind the ears.
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    The rain fell heavier, harder. The sky turned static gray. The cat backed away toward the stone wall. So did Adrianne. The falling water appeared like sheets of perfect white. Pellets of hail ting-ting-tinged against the windowpanes. Adrianne looked at the cat. The cat looked at her. If they could speak, they would both say, “What in the world is going on out there?”
    Adrianne had not seen the weather reports today. She sensed it would rain, but not like this. The wind whipped violently. The scene outside the window was like a whirring blender. Trees, leaves, hail, water, dirt flew past. Then, as quickly as it had all begun, it ended. The trees in the courtyard were bent and broken. The plants lay on the ground.
    Silence returned to the hall. It was interrupted by a ringing phone. Mother answered. Adrianne could hear her gravelly voice echo as if she gargled with sand every morning. Her words were muffled. Then she gasped.
    Bad omens were everywhere.
    Tornados had descended onto the city. Two funnels touched down near the water on the west side, mangling trees, throwing rocks, leaving destruction along their intoxicated paths. The Sisters tending the fire failed to keep the flame alive, and the mayor had been called in to relight it. The Sisters who had allowed the flame