by Chase Erwin
“Yes,” I said, my voice sharp. “Why am I being constantly asked that? I wouldn’t be going through this if I wasn’t sure!”
“On your plane many people block out memories purposefully – they wish to not revisit a particularly painful choice, or witness the death of a loved one again, for instance,” Mial said. He held a tome with one hand, resting his other on a bent knee. “If we pursue this action, everything will be known once again. And then you must deal with the consequences of that knowledge.”
“I haven’t blocked anything out on purpose, that’s the point,” I argued. “My memories were scrambled by somebody else. I need to know what they’re trying to block from me, so I can help my friends and prevent more people from being hurt.”
“I see.” Mial stood on both feet, still holding one book. It had a blue velveteen cover and a gold trim. “I believe you know this story well: it tells of a teenaged Abel Mondragon being sent to detention after a… shall we say a chemistry experiment gone wrong?”
I smiled softly and nodded. “I made a blue ink bomb that went off in a teacher’s face. I was always tinkering with chemicals and that got me into trouble.”
Unable as I was to see Mial’s facial features, I could tell he was frowning. “That, my dear boy, is not the entire story.”
“What do you mean?”
“I am afraid I cannot tell you directly,” Mial said, running a palm over some of the empty shelves. “You would not believe me; you must take an active role in witnessing the memory as I put it back it its rightful place.”
“Well, it couldn’t possibly be worse than some of the horrors I faced in the Ravens’ lair,” I said. “Let’s get this started. Put it back.”
Mial nodded. “Very well.”
He reached to the empty shelf just above his head. He measured about a third of the way along, and placed the book gingerly on the shelf.
The moment the book came to rest, my head flew back as if I were punched in the face. I remembered a handful of jumbled memories, all at once… report cards with failing grades… swearing at teachers… even fighting with other kids. By all rights, it looked like I was nothing but a juvenile delinquent.
“Something has got to be wrong,” I protested. Again, Mial shook his head. “It isn’t, Abel. I promise you. I’ve watched your story play out since you were a child. It is all accurate.”
“How did it start?” Tears were escaping the corners of my eyes.
“We all have the capacity to be evil,” Mial said, crossing the room and taking my hands in his. “It’s lurking inside every creature, every being on every plane. It takes provocation to eke evil out.
“Yours came the day you met that man at the fountain,” he continued, releasing my hands and going back to the pile of books. “But before him, there was someone else. Someone you came to trust… and someone who betrayed you in a particularly vicious fashion.”
“But,” I sputtered, “I was with Antareus the night we were abducted…”
“No,” Mial said. “Another false memory. You hadn’t been living with your brother for months up to that point.”
✽ ✽ ✽
Tears welled in my eyes, as I struggled unsuccessfully in holding them back. My bottom lip quivered; my arms were folded tightly across my chest.
“You can’t do this to me,” I whispered.
“Abel,” my older brother said. “I’m not doing anything to you. This is just… something I thought you should know.”
Antareus stood head and shoulders above me. I couldn’t bear to look at him in the eyes; rather, I stared into him at chest-level.
“It’s always been just you and me,” I growled. “Ever since Mother and Father passed, you’ve promised you would look out for me.”
“Little brother,” Antareus began.
“No!” I screamed. I grabbed at the first item I could see – a small drinking glass – and hurled it at my brother’s head. He ducked, and the glass shattered against the wall behind him. “You promised! And now you’re telling me you’re bringing someone else into our home?”
Antareus sighed. “I was asking you if” –
“The answer is no!” My arms went back into a crossed position. I was behaving like a spoiled brat, I knew, but it was the only way I knew how to handle this information.
Antareus bit his lower lip and took a cautious step towards me. “Is it because… is it because it’s a man?”
I looked at him with incredulity. “Of course not,” I said.
Had I told him in the first place that for the last year or so, I had been harboring special feelings for a male student in my class, that question wouldn’t have needed to be asked.
“Is it because he is a horned fae?” Antareus still looked worried.
“You know that’s not it.” Mother and Father had raised us both to be accepting of all races and types of beings that walked Londolad.
“Then what is it?”
“Why have you been hiding him from me?” I was angry, both at the sudden news and at my own hypocrisy. “Ten months you’ve been dating? Ten? And in all that time I wasn’t worth telling?”
“Abel, I didn’t know ten months ago things between Thoben were going to get that serious,” Antareus said. “But… but the bond we’ve shared as of late has convinced me. I love him. And I want to share my life with him. All of my life – and that includes you.”
“This is the first time you’ve even said his name in front of me,” I cried. “And you expect me to welcome him into the family, just like that?”
Antareus’ face fell. “I was hoping so, yes…”
“Well tough luck,” I said curtly, wiping the tears from my eyes. “I’m late for school. Bye.”
I grabbed my knapsack and bolted out the door. I made sure not to see the hurt expression I knew was crossing Antareus’ face.
I made sure to get myself into detention that afternoon, so I could spend as little time at home facing my brother as possible. Teenagers, as many know, can be relentlessly vindictive, even when in the wrong.
The teacher’s aide was an older boy, most likely a senior with a free period. He was relatively new; in the year or so I had started being held after school, I had only seen him over the last month.
He was, in a word, stunning. Curly brown locks spilled down his hair, and one section of it was pure white. He looked like he worked out.
I felt bad for objectifying him like that when I was also attracted to Ricken Col. My classmate was a real package – looks, charm, charisma and talent – but I was so afraid to ask him out, especially because he had groups of girls follow him around wherever he went.
It was so easy to get lost into Trevalyn’s eyes though…
“Can I help you with something?”
Oops. I lingered just a little too long there. I fumbled clumsily with my books and some paper on my desk. “Um, no… no…”
I looked down at a random page in my baking textbook, then looked up quickly towards Trevalyn again. He was smirking, and staring straight at me.
“You keep coming here because you harass Mrs. Tweedy, don’t you?” he asked.
“Uh, yeah.” I said. I sniffed and straightened up in my chair, attempting to sound tough. “So?”
“She’s the chemistry teacher.”
“Yeah.”
“You mix stuff up in there to cause trouble, right?”
I looked at him fully. “Yeah…”
“I like making stuff too,” Trevalyn said, standing up from behind the teacher’s desk. He coolly walked towards my desk and sat himself on a small corner of it.
“I think you’re kind of… cute,” he said, lowering his voice.
I immediately began to blush.
“There’s a party going on tonight over in the Warehouse District,” Trevalyn said. “Would you maybe want to go there with me?”
“Uhm, ehh…” I was very flustered.
“We could probably set something up so you could show my friends that ink tric
k you pulled today,” he added. “What did you need for that again?”
The suggestion caught me further by surprise. “Uh, not much, just some powdered cobalt and any kind of liquid. I can, heh… do the rest,” I said, wiggling my fingers.
“Right on,” Trevalyn laughed.
We spent the rest of the hour I was supposed to spend studying talking about anything and everything but school.
✽ ✽ ✽
“That doesn’t make any sense,” I frowned. “I don’t remember any Trevalyn… and why would I be so angry with Antareus? I loved him – and he never had a boyfriend…?”
“This is what I have been trying to explain to you, dear Abel,” Mial said. A duplicate leather chair slid out from an ethereal space and he sat into it when it approached. “The reality you currently believe is built of broken fragments and false, damaged memories – it skipped all the removed memories and came up with the logic to explain what you do remember. It may be bits of truth; it may be misunderstandings of the situation – it may even all be complete falsehoods.
“But in realigning all these memories, we will uncover the true reality of Abel Mondragon. Everything you did, everything you said, will come to light once again.”
A cold chill ran down my body. For the first time since I went into surgery, I began to feel I was making a terrible mistake.
9. Pieces
“It’s not too late to stop,” Mial cautioned. He left his chair and knelt on one knee just before my legs. He put a hand on one of my knees; his touch was icy cold. “But I must advise, this our last chance to do so; if we continue, the memories will restore quicker and quicker.”
I shook my head. “It has to be done.”
“Very well,” Mial said. He reached into the pile of books and selected a thin, red book gilded with tarnished gold.
Rising, he placed the book on a shelf on one of the cases furthest to the left. As he did so, a few random books rose from the pile and carried themselves to various spaces across three other cases.
I shuddered as I felt my mind cloud over, as if sleep were quickly overtaking me. However, I knew I wasn’t falling asleep; I was reliving the moment, the event, that altered so many lives forever.
Trevalyn and I had been going to the warehouse district for several months. Each time, he and his band of friends – five of them, I think – would play dice games, card games, and I would make light refreshments using some of my magic skills.
I could quickly ferment a batch of alcoholic punch, sometimes even a rudimentary mead, with the things they’d procure for me. They all seemed quite interested both with my chemist’s-slash-chef’s skills and the speed with which I could perform my tasks.
Later in the night, Trevalyn would take me by the hand to an upstairs alcove. Usually without further conversation, he would place his hands on my shoulders and move them up my neckline, bend his head towards mine, and we would kiss.
His arms would roam, our lips would press over and over, and just as his hands would reach towards the fly of my pants or around my rear, I would break the kiss and gently grab his hands.
“Not yet,” I would usually say, or something of a similar nature. “I’m not ready.”
He would frown each time and respond, “Alright… but I don’t think I can wait much longer!” At first, he said so playfully, with his lips pursing in an exaggerated pout. But as I declined each advance, his reply would develop a hard edge.
I was beginning to become wary of our meeting days, but I was also so drawn to Trevalyn’s charismatic nature… and scared by the sense of brewing anger… that I didn’t dare stop accompanying him.
One late evening, we arrived at the warehouse an hour or so before the rest of his friends, and he led me directly upstairs.
“Trev,” I began. “I know you’re eager, but I still need time,” I began.
“I’m not interested in that right now,” he replied with an aggravated tone. “I need your help with a chemistry project.”
“Oh?” I relaxed a little as Trevalyn set down his knapsack and pulled out a large round mortar and two canisters. He poured a little bit of one canister into the mortar; sparkling white granules piled into the center. Then he opened the other canister and poured its entire contents out.
As the intense purple powder mingled with the white granules, a reaction began. The purple material sizzled and blended with the white. As Trevalyn stirred the two with a stone pestle, the solution turned completely liquid and softened into a pale blue.
“I need to crystallize this solution,” Trevalyn explained. “But I’m missing two things – a source of cold and a third ingredient. But I can’t figure out what that third ingredient is.”
The answer came to me quickly. “You need something that is already crystalline so that the liquid can bond to the crystals and grow when the cold is introduced.”
“Like what?” Trevalyn sounded impatient.
“Uh, anything would do… salt, perhaps? Maybe some sugar?”
“Sugar, sugar…” Trev’s mind was racing. “I think there’s some downstairs – don’t move!” He fled down the stairs.
I peered at the mixture in the mortar. I took a sniff of it and recoiled at the stench. It smelled like cleaning soap made from animal fat that had gone sour. As it sat there the reaction continued and the blue color intensified while the smell ebbed away.
Trevalyn bounded up the steps a few minutes later carrying a small glass bowl with sugar in it. He appeared to be sweating.
“How much do I need?” He demanded. His right foot tapped impatiently.
“All it should take is one grain, but” –
Before I could finish my sentence, Trevalyn dumped the whole bowl inside. “Make it cold, quick!”
Looking at him with confusion, I pointed two fingers at the mortar while giving it a spin with my free hand. Two strings of cold energy began to flow from my fingers.
Ice began to form on the stone mortar and grew quickly over the mixture inside. Crystals began to form and the bowl stopped spinning about the moment the solution, now solid and glowing purple, cracked into hundreds of tiny pieces. I stopped the flow of cold.
Trevalyn hastily grabbed the bowl, plucked a piece of the shattered purple material and observed it through the dim light of the stairwell.
“Marvelous,” he murmured. He placed the piece on his tongue as I watched, aghast.
“What are you doing?” I asked. “You’re sweating… What did you just have me make?”
When he turned to me, Trevalyn’s eyes appeared bluer than usual and glazed over.
“The best damn party drug in the world,” he replied. His smile was off-putting and devoid of genuine happiness.
“A drug?” My heart’s pulse began to quicken. “I can’t believe you had me do that. If the Guild found out I’d be expelled!”
“Don’t be such a drag,” Trevalyn said, taking my hand. I tried to pull back, but once again, his mere touch made me feel like I was melting.
He kissed me, and as he did, his tongue slipped between my lips. It was just enough for me to taste the piece of crystal he had taken. It was super-sweet due to the amount of sugar he’d put in. I was expecting a chemical taste, but it was entirely gone, replaced instead with a taste I could only describe as… like the smell of rainfall on fresh earth. It was pleasant.
My limbs began to relax, and just as I reached out my hands to place on his chest, the sound of metal banging downstairs broke our focus.
“The gang’s here,” Trevalyn said. “Come. Let’s share our bounty!”
“O… okay.” My brain was screaming to resist, to flee, but I was in such a relaxed haze I could only follow in his footsteps.
“Is it party time?!” yelled one of Trevalyn’s friends. He was nicknamed Scar because of the long scar he had down his left hand.
“It is indeed, thanks to Abel here. He’s made us a grand amount of Purple Traveler,” Trevalyn replied, mortar in hand. He passed it over to Scar, who took a
piece of the purple crystal and placed it under his tongue.
As Scar passed the bowl around and each boy took a piece for themselves, the haze began to clear. I was relieved to be out of the drug’s immediate effect… but I felt a need to have more. Purple Traveler was dangerously addictive, I already knew.
The bowl finally made its way back to Trevalyn, who took two more pieces and placed them in the side of his mouth.
“Mmm, delicious,” he murmured. He then turned to me and held the bowl towards me. “Have some more.”
I shook my head. I was becoming tense once again. “No thank you,” I whispered.
Trevalyn scowled. “I said… have some more.”
I looked at the rest of the gang. Scar was seated on the floor; he was already drooling, completely out of reality. The other boys seemed as if they were two breaths away from dreamland themselves.
I gulped. “And I said no.”
Trevalyn picked up four pieces of Purple Traveler before setting the mortar aside.
“I’m tired of that word,” he said as he stepped towards me. “Now have some fun with us!”
“I don’t want to!” my voice was raised. “I won’t rat on you or anything but I want out of here and I don’t want” –
Trevalyn’s fist struck me with such force the bleeding was instantaneous. I gulped and swallowed, struggling to breathe through my nose.
“Tr-Trevalyn?”
He was on top of me in a flash. He forced my mouth open and shoved the drug in my mouth. Rubbing my throat with one hand to make me swallow it, he covered my mouth with the other hand.
“I told you,” he said as the haze quickly washed over my face, numbing my limbs and making my vision swirl, “I am tired of that word.”
It must have been several hours later when I awoke. My head felt like it was in a vice, my eyes bleary and dry. And I could feel the pain… I could still feel what Trevalyn had done after I had passed out. And I began to cry.
There was a piece of Purple Traveler on the floor beside me. Every fiber in my being told me to stop, but every thought in my head told me I’d need it just to get my bearings fast.