Black Locust Letters by Nicolette Jinks Page B

her being face
to face with him in the narrow doorway, and she felt the heat rise
off his body, and his soft words strummed through her skin and made
her light-headed. She remembered the wagon and how it felt to be in
his arms. Now she was nearly in them again, and his presence sapped
away the will to resist. He was intoxicating.
    “ All
right,” she said.
    Clarkin leaned forward. She closed her eyes. His warm lips
kissed her forehead. The ground lurched under her feet, and his
hand cupped hers as he led her out of the library.
    To
Betty's surprise, the streets outside were already glowing in the
orange hue of the setting sun, and in the west, the sky was a
horizontal painting of pinks, purples, and red clouds. She looped
her fingers tight around Clarkin's and grabbed his elbow with her
other hand, drawing an affectionate smile from him. A cold wind
teased her hair, and Clarkin used their waiting time at a busy
street corner to wrap his scarf over her hair to keep it from
getting tangled. His fingers brushed her ears and jaw, and Betty
shivered at the contact.
    They
talked about nonsense while they wandered through the streets,
comments about building architecture or favorite bawdy jokes,
things scattered between kicking up leaf piles and racing up steps.
When their path found them at the fountain with four stone lions
facing a tiered waterspout, Clarkin said, “Do you know the reason
behind these four beasts?”
    Betty ran a hand down a carved mane. “They represent
directions. North, East, South, West.”
    Clarkin held up a hand. “Ah, but they don't face those
directions. If anything, they're set on a forty-five degree
angle.”
    Betty checked the setting sun and mused. “Perhaps more like a
thirty-five degree.”
    “ Come back here with a real compass, and you'll see what it is
that I mean.” Clarkin took her hand then swept into a bow,
gesturing to the small park they were in. “No, no, my song, these
lions are guardians. They are the creatures of forgotten lore,
beings that keep the world held together and in balance. Life.” He
touched one. “Death.” He brought her to the other side. “Light.” He
touched the one facing north-east. “And Darkness.” He swept her
around to the last one, resting against it so the darkening sky was
behind Betty and she could see the faint traces of light still
playing on his face. “Do you know how they keep it all in
balance?”
    She
couldn't keep from laughing. “I couldn't guess! But I suppose that
you are going to tell me?”
    “ Unless you do not wish it.”
    She
looked at him again, and the brilliant gleam to his eyes was back,
and she was enjoying the thrum of his voice. She nodded to make him
continue. He stood and crossed his arm over, drawing her into a
spin, which she did, coming to a sudden stop as her back hit his
chest, one of his arms folded over her body.
    Betty sank back against him, letting out a long, slow
breath.
    Clarkin held her other hand, rocking her, speaking into her
ear. “You are aware of a theory, that states that light cannot
exist without dark, and vise-versa? And that without death, life
cannot exist, and without life, neither can death be? With the
existence of life and death, there comes light and dark. And within
every being on this earth and further, out into the milky way and
the cosmos, there exists a little bit of each element in everyone.
Some people are born to the light, some people to the darkness; to
life, or death.
    “ We
draw to us other people who are similar, or those who complement
our motives. The lions say that no death is permanent, nor is life
perpetual, but the same people are born time and again, to be
warriors for their causes. Those who are newly made don't know of
the ancient war between the light and the dark, they don't know
that life is a constant battle to make one side win.
    “ But
the older souls, they know, and so they fight. They fight with
hands, with words, and with chemicals. Others fight with