by Lindsey Iler
“Keep walking,” I instruct, pulling her along my back, only to be bombarded by my brother’s laughter at the bottom of the stairs.
“Hello, Edric.” The corners of his mouth lift in a sinister grin. “What do we have here?”
“We were just leaving, Hunter.” I keep a tight grip on Lennox, even when she squirms to break away. “Now, if you’ll excuse us.”
“Lennox, right?” Hunter pokes. “Still as beautiful as the day is bright.” He skirts around me, using his position to his own advantage, and stops on the side where I can’t protect her.
“What are you doing?” I demand, placing my hand on Lennox’s waist to switch our positions. She scoffs behind me, not seeing the point in our song and dance.
“Oh, little brother, don’t you know the dolls aren’t meant to come out of the box. They’re meant to only be enjoyed with our eyes.” When I feel Lennox peek over my shoulder, he wiggles his eyebrows. “And you just may have snagged yourself the prettiest of them all.”
Hunter switches positions again before I can ward him off. Seething with anger, a guttural growl escapes my mouth. He knows he has me right where he wants me.
I see red the moment his skin touches her. The back of his finger brushes across her bare arm.
“What are you doing?” Lennox’s words are strained.
“In this family, we share our toys.”
At his threat, I pull her away from him. His sinister laughter ricochets throughout the house that holds so many secrets.
The cool fall air nips at our necks, but we don’t stop moving until we are pulling out of the driveway. At first inspection, Lennox’s breathing is calm, collected, but if I allow my eyes to shut for a single second, I can hear her internal pep talk.
Calm down. It’s okay. Calm down. Take deep breaths.
“My brother’s an asshole,” I blurt once we are close to the edge of town.
With no direction of where Lennox wanted to go, I wing it and simply drive, letting the lamp posts guide me.
“You think?” Her eyebrows dance up toward her hairline, and she gives me a hint of a smile to let me know he hasn’t totally overrun her thoughts.
“He and I have never . . . We’ve never shared.” I stop talking because there is no point.
“I appreciate you trying to explain it to me, but there’s no need. I know you’d never allow your brother to take a piece of me.” She rests her elbow on the car door and stares out at the night sky. The stars are brighter than usual tonight.
Instead of asking, I hone into her thoughts. I don’t necessarily like to do this to her, but if she won’t speak, then I’ll lead her to where she needs to go.
It’s memory after memory, the good and the bad. Sifting through them is nearly impossible with Lennox’s style of storing them. Nothing is in its place. Most people keep the important things in the front of the mind, always close by to pull forward. Not Lennox. Hers are tucked behind the nonconsequential memories, hidden from even her being able to access them. She’s been hardened, her brain trained not to rely on those things, because they make her weak, or so her mother says.
With her forehead pressed against the window, she shuts her eyes, allowing herself to relax. Perhaps the killing took a toll on her. She had appeared high from the power, but like any high, it has to come down at some point. I’d held her up for a little while longer, preserving it, and now, she crashes to the earth.
There’s a path ahead that’s hidden from the street. This is the one I need. I take a right down the dirt road. Lennox huffs beside me, twists to the radio, and blares music throughout the car.
“Get out of my head, Edric,” she whispers.
If I was a human, I would’ve missed those five words, but I’m me, and nothing she says goes unnoticed and unheard.
“You said you wanted to show me something, but you didn’t speak, so instead I’m taking you to the place you had in mind,” I explain, looking back and forth down another dirt road before turning left.
“Doesn’t it sort of defeat the purpose of sharing something important to me when you can dig up the memories on your own?” She stares over at me.
“I can see your memories.” I push the gearshift into park and turn the ignition off. Lennox takes me in, like I’m some mystical puzzle she must crack, but I’m nothing like that. I’m a simple man. “It’s like watching an old silent movie, no voices, only a picture. If this place is important to you, Len, then I want you to explain to me why that is. How does it make you feel to be back here? Why don’t you visit as often anymore?”
“It doesn’t matter.” She shakes her head.
“This isn’t just a place you visited. It’s a part of you. I want to know every part, because, even when you don’t think it’s important, it will be to me. All the sums of your parts matter to me,” I admit, sighing out of pure relief of finally admitting the truth.
Lennox nods. Her hands rest on the dashboard, and she takes several deep breaths.
“I don’t want a psychiatrist. For once, I want someone to just get me. Zero effort. Zero hold up.” Lennox glances at me, and then opens the door. No hesitation. No fear.
She’s going to hand it all over to me for the second time tonight. I follow behind her, not willing to miss a single second of her vulnerability.
“And if I can do that?” I say over the hood of the car.
“Then I’ll hand myself over to you. No effort. Zero hold up.” She smirks, walking to the front of the car with her hand held out to me.
She runs into the woods, our hands tight together. Tree branches snap under our feet, but no other sound can be heard. It’s us and the Earth, together on a journey. The air is chilled, preparing for deep fall to set in. Everything is green with splashes of red, orange, and yellow to draw our eyes away from what we’ve always known.
Life has been lived in these woods. Her life has been lived in these woods.
There’s a recklessness to her movements. All inhibition is tossed out the window, and in its place sits a carelessness that’s contagious. I’d follow this girl right off a . . .
“Cliff!” I yell, spotting the rocky edge up ahead. “Slow down, Lennox.”
She doesn’t slow down though. Her fingernails grip tightly around my hand, giving me no choice but to follow her over the ledge.
Freefalling.
It’s what she’s kept hidden in her memories. She believes I can see everything inside of that beautiful brain of hers, but she keeps this hidden from everyone. The impulse to plunge herself into the abyss is heavy.
Cold water surrounds me, stripping the air from my lungs. Survival mode goes into overdrive, and then I feel it, a soft hand on my forearm. My eyes flutter open, slow and steady not to overwhelm them. Lennox is surrounded by bubbles as she takes slow breaths. Her features soften as she treads just enough water not to sink. We’re stuck in this moment with each other. It feels like she’s given something over to me far more important than anything else.
I tug her close, the water giving its first sign of resisting our presence in its wakes. I lean forward, placing my lips over hers. The kiss is gentle, all elements forgotten, until we float to the surface. She pulls back and smiles, treading water.
“Check it off my bucket list.” She giggles. Her hair is ratted from the fall.
“Jumping off a ledge?” I glance up at the rocks.
“That’s exactly how I would describe the feeling of kissing you underwater.”
Her arms wrap around my shoulders, pushing me back under the water. Her lips touch mine once again, and the warmth overcomes me. We sink further and further down, not stopping until we hit the bottom.
On the silt of the quarry lake, we sit, her on my lap like that’s the only place she wants to be. My hands spread up her back, inside her tank top, gripping tightly to her skin. We kiss, handing over a little bit more of each other. Her tongue grazes mine, and I hold the back of her head in place, devouring her until I get my fill.
Once we r
each the shore, we shiver, our bodies coming down from the shock of being in the freezing water.
“How’d you stay under the water for that long?” Lennox asks.
I search the trunk for something warm to wrap around her and find a couple of blankets. She thinks I planned this, a night under the stars with her, but it’s purely coincidence. She doesn’t believe it though, as she takes the offered blanket. A wary stare stays on me as she folds herself into it.
“How’d you stay under the water for that long?” I counter, pulling her onto the trunk and taking the spot beside her. The only sound out here is the distant noise of Belle Meade waking for the day.
“I’m an Angel. Untouchable,” she answers, confident and so damn sure of herself.
“Everyone has a weakness. It’s just a matter of time until someone finds it,” I whisper.
“I’d like to know what you are, Edric. What lets you read my mind, burrow deep into my memories, and touch me without touching me?” She reaches out from her blanket and cups my cheek. “Are you a vampire or something?” She smiles at her absurd question, dropping her hold on me, afraid maybe I might be.
“No, not a vampire, Lennox,” I say, putting her out of her misery. “Vampires feed on human blood. It gives them a high like your killings give you.”
“You could smell the blood on my boots, but the blood at the crash didn’t seem to bother you,” she recalls.
I’d wondered if she’d put those two things together.
“Sensitivity to blood isn’t reserved only for vampires,” I state. “And the blood at the crash belonged to us. When I smell blood, when my kind smells blood, we feel the terror, the loss the person felt. I had to get rid of your boots, because the moment I caught the scent, a blade felt like it was slicing into my neck.”
“Is it always like that?” Her eyebrows spring together. “You don’t spend much time at hospitals then, huh?” She giggles.
“Actually, it’s never happened before until tonight.”
“What?” The confusion thickens on her forehead.
“I don’t understand it either, but I could smell the blood, and as if a flip switched, I traded places with Mr. Smelks. You weren’t killing him. You were killing me, at least in my mind,” I explain the horror. “I got it under control and forced my way out the other side.”
“But why?” she asks.
“Good question.” I slide her body down the hood and wrap my arm around her shoulders, rubbing to warm her skin.
We watch the sun rise over the horizon. The colors are a beautiful show to lighten the heavy load resting between us. Oranges and pinks slide onto our Earth, basking us in its glow. The warmth is welcome, and I drop the blanket from my shoulders, soaking it into my skin with deep, heavy breaths.
“Think you can get me home?” Lennox stretches her back and slips from the hood.
“No, I planned on leaving you out here to fend for yourself,” I say, smirking over the top of the car.
I bend down to unlock the door. When I glance up, Lennox is gone. A low roar echoes through the quarry. She’s on the ground beside my car, gripping her forearm. It’s streaked with blood, pulsing and angry.
“Lennox!” I skid on my knees in front of her. “Are you okay? What happened?”
“AHHH!!!!” she screams. “Edric.”
Her hand reaches for me, and I clasp it. To ease her pain, I run my fingers along her cheek and rest my hand against her soft skin.
“Oh my god!” she sighs in relief, fluttering her eyes until they seer into mine.
“You’re okay.” I flip the handle, grab the door with my foot, and kick it open. Once she’s seated, she twirls, eyes wide and full of fear. “It’ll only be for a second. Hang tight.”
I release her, and an angry growl bursts from her chest. Her hand covers her forearm, blocking the marking as if covering it will somehow dampen the agony. She’s held captive, and whatever controls her, has a strong grip.
When I’m behind the wheel, I reach over, and she tugs my hand against her chest, clutching it. She needs me. She needed me the first night this happened.
How did I not see this?
Bzzz.
Bzzz.
Bzzz.
At the sound, I search for my phone, but Lennox finds hers first and answers.
“Amilee,” she whispers. “I can’t hear you. I need you to calm down. We’re being called. We have to go to trial.”
Trial?
Defeated, she drops the phone from her ear, clenching it in her fist.
“You’re going to have to come with me.” She doubles over, giving me no choice.
I press the gas so hard, the tires catch on the rutted road. The car skids to the left as we whip through the last twist to the paved road.
“Are you sure it’s okay for me to come? I’m not exactly one of you,” I remind her.
“Does it appear like we have much choice?” She releases my hand, and like a cut wire, she comes to life, wailing in dire pain.
“You proved your point; now take my hand, Lennox.” I extend it, and she’s all too happy to oblige.
*****
“You’re riding a very thin line bringing him with you right now,” Mr. Reynolds says to Lennox as we enter the room.
In the middle of the open space are three thrones. Bookshelves encircle the chamber from ceiling to floor.
Amilee and Emerson stand off to the side, shocked to see me, but there’s more behind their watery eyes. I don’t dig into their thoughts because it clearly has something to do with Lennox. I try to avoid using my talents when it comes to her.
“If you can explain to me why, then I’ll allow him to leave. But if you can’t, or better yet, if you won’t, then he stays, because right now, he’s the only thing keeping me sane.” Lennox releases her grip on my hand and immediately falls to the floor, screaming in agony. She sounds like a wounded animal in the forest, desperate for the end to come.
Mr. Reynolds glares at me, uncertain of my presence. There’s no blame there. I could be setting myself up for a hell storm of trouble if my family finds out I’m here with these people.
“You’ll suffer the consequences. Not me. Not them.” Mr. Reynolds glances at Amilee and Emerson, their expressions solemn and sunken with defeat. “Please, boy, touch her.” He flutters his hand toward mine.
At his demand, I scoop Lennox off the floor and wrap an arm around her waist until she regains some of her strength.
“Yes, sir, and to make myself clear, I don’t want to be here anymore than you want me to, but for her, I’ll gladly suffer the consequences.”
“The trial is about to begin.” Mr. Reynolds hurries to a shelf, pulls down a book, and opens it.
From my vantage point, it’s obvious the pages have been hollowed out, but I can’t see what he removes. As he walks to us, he inspects Lennox and me and shakes his head with such uncertainty.
“Hold this.” He offers a red stone to Lennox.
Mr. Reynolds’ frantic eyes gape between me and where I touch her. With a shake of her head, a tear falls down her soft cheek. The pain, a pain no one can begin to understand, shines brightly at me.
Mr. Reynolds watches us interact. He silently pleads, his eyebrows furrowed with desperation. He jerks the stone toward her again, and I see it. The emblem engraved on the top is my family crest.
Why does he have it?
Lennox grips the stone, clutching it in her grasp.
“You can let go now,” Mr. Reynolds tells me.
I hesitate out of fear of causing Lennox more pain. As my fingers slip from her, one by one, the last one dangling on the edge of her hand, I look up, apologizing for something that hasn’t happened yet. When I release the last one, the breath I’m holding gushes out, and Lennox smiles. She’s in no pain. Her spine doesn’t bend to unworldly lengths to find comfort.
She’s okay.
“It’s time for you to go.” Mr. Reynolds shoves my back, giving me no choice but to leave.
&nbs
p; When I glance over my shoulder at Lennox, the door slams in my face, and I jump back from the impact.
Unable to stand outside doing nothing but waiting, I trek across town to my aunt’s house. I could close my eyes and be there, but sometimes it’s nice to be alone with my thoughts. I can’t do that when I teleport. Garrison warned me to stay away, not to poke too hard into anything, but seeing the family seal on the red stone, gives me no choice.
Even though Garrison’s car isn’t there, I go inside. The house is quiet. If my aunt is home, she knows I’m here.
“I’m upstairs, Edric!” she hollers.
Taking the stairs two at a time, I find her on the top landing, shoving boxes in a crawl space.
“Do you need some help with that?” I pick up one of the cartons, surprised when she places a strong hand over mine and shoves the box out of my grip.
“No, I don’t. What are you doing here, Edric?” she asks, pushing the last container out of sight. “Don’t you have an inappropriate girl to occupy your time with?”
“If you’re referring to Lennox, I hate to disappoint, but I don’t think that’s going to work out,” I lie. “She was fun while it lasted.”
I concentrate harder than I ever have to block my aunt’s mind. Her talents could cause a lot of trouble for me.
“That’s probably for the best. Our blood doesn’t mix.” Her words are so matter of fact that I’m confused by them.
Our blood doesn’t mix?
“Does our blood mix with anyone?” I ask, sounding like a desperate teenager in need of love.
“Our family crest says so.”
“I think I’ve seen it before.”
“Your damn mother has sheltered you far too much.” She walks down the hallway, waving for me to follow. “In the upstairs library, that’s where we keep all of the family history.” She skims through a filing cabinet until she finds the file she’s looking for, opens it, and pulls out a crinkled piece of ivory paper. “Here it is.”
Our family crest, the same one on the red stone, is sketched in faded black ink. It’s simplistic, unlike our family history.
“When is the family crest used?” I ask.
“Usually on seals and things like that. It holds no real purpose,” she explains.