Ashes Remain

by Alethea Stauron

  He hears her voice inside her mind.

  Please, his heart prays, don’t let her say anything? His chest beats thunderously louder than his thoughts. Mainly concentrating on controlling his physical body from describing how much his mind is screaming. His pallor fades into a stale cream. When he sees the owner of the shadow, his lips pull to one side. Teeth glaring.

  Josephine grabs the knob in her ignorance, trying to turn it. This is ridiculous, she thought.

  Lucius tenses. His chest presses a moan through his rib cage. Too late to speak. Too late to press his hand through a door and making her sleep. Too early to speak with her through telepathy. Variables. Variables threatening her survival. They’re already in the house. Nothing he can do. They have every right to evaluate their property. Their pawn.

  Lucius’s eyes swell with the sound of its footsteps. Her wooden floor downstairs groan under massive pressure. Josephine listens. She rests her head against paneling to investigate. To investigate a very uncommon sound. A sound she knows is not coming from Lucius. It’s coming from downstairs.

  Footsteps break the silence. She forgets about the whining of her door. Who is in the house? The air thickens. A thick layer she couldn’t describe, and reaching into her room as a dense hidden fog. A static. The static encapsulates her entire body, making everything seem as white noise for her. The static sucks breath from her lungs and takes over the air. She can feel the atmosphere breathing around her like an electrical current. Like it’s alive. An old feeling of being watched. Evaluated. Studied. She becomes weak in the knees and lightheaded. As if breathing a chemical designed to scrape her tissues from the inside. Her ears ring. The atmosphere becomes too stale, as though an entirely new world has just devoured life around her. She hears everything differently through the white noise of it all — her blood flowing, steps of an unknown visitor, Lucius bending metal in his hand, and then…

  her electricity goes out.

  She feels faint with lightheadedness. Consumed by something much stronger than her. She isn’t exhaling her breath. Her chest feels as though it’s squeezing the air out. Squeezed along with the energy zapped from the house. Just when she thought she couldn’t take any more of the lightheadedness…

  she hears it.

  It speaks. Deep and unnatural. Shaking her walls and rattling her core. Stern and irrefutable. Freezing her in place. Terrifying but… fantastic. She’s never heard such a language before. Almost murmured. However, every word is complete. She doesn’t know the words, but somehow, she understands them. Her eardrums beat with it. Almost as if the voice is pulsating everything around it, using the atmosphere in order to exist. Her body slides down the wall between her doorframe and sewing table. Her eyes glare off into the empty space of her bedroom. Every structure and piece of furniture appears as though altered. Like time has stopped.

  But out of nowhere

  the voice is interrupted. The authority governing the deep guttural murmuring has stopped abruptly. A familiar voice speaks. Using the same fantastic language. Lucius almost growls with his own authority, silencing the deeper grumble downstairs and keeping threats at bay.

  There’s a short pause. A short pause, wrapping her anticipation further. As if the heavy visitor is taking a deep breath. A thought.

  Then…

  The visitor’s words sharply snap back, breaking the silence. Violent and unforgiving rattling follows its threat. Threatening with shockwaves through her window panes. She inhales, almost like preparing for a fall. She could swear she’s about to be sucked through the floor with its wrath as it carries on. A few phrases. And nothing she can make out, except,

  she recognizes one last word — rules and it was spoken in English.

  “I haven’t. I never have either…” Lucius responded in defense. His vocals are devout. She can nearly see him with his chin raised. His eyes peering down, flashing his authority through the atmosphere just as severely as the visitor downstairs. “Now, do what you need to do…” Lucius threatens, “and get out before I make you leave.”

  A rumble of words sends the furniture vibrating as it grows into a bombastic laugh. A terrifying laugh that mocks Lucius’s last statement.

  Then…

  leaves.

  Air. Breathable air tidal waves back into the house. Her electricity kicks back on. Her nerves gain control over themselves once again. She needs a moment. A moment to give her body time to recuperate. Time to evaluate and just breathe. Time to release what she’s holding back.

  Lucius hunches over, catching his breath as well, un-sticking his fingers from the newly-crushed knob. His breaths are short. Panting. Realizing it could have been his worst mistake. He realizes he could’ve lost everything. He realizes how close they were to knowing. And, he realizes she’s still…

  on the other side of the door.

  Lucius rushes into her room. His vision activates and scans the area, looking for leftover static or a scout. But nothing is left. Slowly his vision drops down. Josephine is settled into a corner, quaking with fright. He drops beside her, petting her cheeks, “Are you okay?” His face skims over her, “Did anyone hurt you? Did somebody come in here? Did they touch you?” For the first time, he’s straining. Straining at performing a normal skill for him. The skill of passing peace through her. He has to calm himself down first. If only she’d answer. He asks, “Are you okay? Baby, answer me.”

  She exhales, forcing a sob with hyperventilation, “I… I…” and cries.

  He latches onto her, “I got you,” resting his ear over her head.

  “I don’t know.” Her lips quiver, gazing up at him, “I don’t… what’s going on, Lucius?”

  His cheeks rub against her ear, embracing tightly. “Ugh, baby…” realizing there’s no way he could explain. “I’m here. I have you now.” He brushes her nerves away within every stroke. His warm hands that move across her jawline. He manages a little peacefulness with each stroke. Enough to calm her from crying and him as well.

  Josephine swallows, and asks, “Who was that? Downstairs? The one talking? What happened?”

  He exhales. “Drake fell down the stairs. I didn’t touch him. The one you heard… that’s who Drake worked for.”

  “I wanna know who that was. I’ve never felt —

  “No… baby. You don’t ever wanna know what that was. Trust me.” He slides down next to her, squeezing space between the two of them.

  She says, “Don’t leave me.”

  His mouth tips her ear, “I never wanna go anywhere. Not without you. I only wanna hold you.” Shortly after his statement, he realizes the jagged blade of his life. His unfair life. He can’t. He simply can’t be with her — not after being reminded of why. He has no permission and not an ounce of willpower in telling her no. She doesn’t understand the world he sees. She couldn’t fathom the far reaches of who he is. He’s terrified to tell her. Terrified she would reject everything. She doesn’t know. She must remain innocent. He whispers, “I can’t do this to you,” ripping air from his lungs. “Josephine…” he pauses, “My love…” trying to swallow the pain of explaining why he must disappear. She grabs his knee. He senses her emotions, realizing this will hurt worse than before.

  “No. No, Lucius. You can’t leave me.”

  He’s winded. His tears are collecting just before brushing against his eyelashes, “Baby…” his voice cracks, “Josephine, they can’t know how I feel about you.” His chest tightens.

  “Stop…” she’s clutching him as tightly as she can. “Don’t be like this. Don’t do this to me. Why?”

  “They come back. They always come back. No one can see me with you. Not the way I want to be with you. I’ve had to be careful.” He strokes her soft skin, memorizing the feel of her holding him. Her arms wrap him in comfort. And he’s absorbing the sensation of being wanted. Drawing him in deeper. “Today…” kissing the side of her nose, never flinching with tears glossing over his lips, “Today… I almost lost… almost lost you. I almost lost you t
o them.”

  “Lucius, please? What have I done wrong? You can’t leave me?”

  He melts from the inside, “You can’t take the blame.”

  “But what did I do?”

  “Not me… you’ve never done anything wrong to me.”

  “If you don’t wanna leave, then why?” She places her head against his chest, listening to his heartbeat. “Why would you leave me? If you love me, why would you leave?”

  He’s speechless. Salted droplets slide down his jaw, soaking into her hair. He wipes his eyes but the flow isn’t stopping anytime soon. Silently hurting — both of them.

  Josephine raises her head from his chest, “I feel you, Lucius.” Her voice is comforting like a loving mother over him. Her fingertips stroke his brows. “I can’t explain it… but… I feel you. I felt you the whole time you were gone.” He squeezes his lids with her words, fighting his emotions from pouring over her again. She continues, “I know it sounds crazy.”

  “No. That doesn’t sound crazy.” He stares, “There’s nothing crazy about you.” He brushes his fingers through her hair. “I’m the crazy one… and you… you’re wonderful. You’ve always been wonderful.” His cheek rubs over her cheekbones. Over her soft skin and taking in her smell. The way she comforts him is a treasure beyond what he could let go. He forgets how easily he’s pulled in. She barely stretches upward, and they’re kissing.

  He inhales. Much like his first breath taken in ages. The aroma of their skin is breathed in. Neither one needing to speak. They wouldn’t want to

  until…

  Lucius catches a whiff of rot in the air. The stench of blood and feces. The reek of sweat and urine spreading over flooring. A dead man is still lying on the floor at the base of the stairs. He stops kissing her, lessening his grip and catching his breath. “We have to stop.”

  “What? Why?”

  “There’s a mess downstairs.” He lifts himself up, holding out a helping hand for her to stand. His arms shield her eyes, keeping her from the growing crack in the door. “Don’t look, baby.” He continues protecting her eyes as he peeks outside over the loft. The body is rank and still there with stiffening joints on the bottom steps. Lucius closes her door. “Don’t look. I don’t want you to see it.” He brushes her gently back, setting her on the bed. “Now you can.”

  “Can what?”

  “Call the police. Call them but don’t tell ‘em I’m here.” He points toward her phone poking out of her pocket, “I’m not asking you to lie. Tell them you heard him fall down the stairs.”

  “But the fight —

  “No, baby,” shaking his head, “The fight never happened. I can’t explain it. Not right now. It isn’t lying. The fight never happened.” She gathers her phone, and he continues, “You opened your bedroom door and found him on the floor after he fell down the stairs. Allow them to gather all of his possessions from your property. Let them take everything. That’s all you need to do because you had nothing to do with this. Don’t tell them anything else. You’re innocent.”

  “What if they ask?”

  “Only…” he says, “only tell them what you know to be true about Drake.” He points back at himself. She catches a glimpse of gloss in his eyes. “I don’t exist out here.” He squats down in front of her. Coaching her, “You heard him trip down the stairs. You were in your bedroom at the time. You had nothing to do with his death. Remember it… because anything else… won’t… make… sense.”

  She nods, “Okay.”

  Lucius watches her dial. “After you’re done and the police have gone, you need to call your friends.” The phone is ringing and he whispers against her ear, “They need to know you’re safe.”

  “How do you know my friends?”

  “I’ve seen you with them —

  “Hello, Lake Hills Police Department,” the dispatch answered.

  — that’s all I’m gonna say,” Lucius said.

  Following his specific instructions, Josephine explains her crisis and watches Lucius closely. He stands at the window, tipping the curtains open with his finger, eyeballing her land. He does the same with the other window beside the hidden safe and bookshelves. He draws her drapes, protecting her from being seen with him. He turns to see her staring. Almost like he knew the whole time that she would watch, and he says, “Remember…” he kneels beside her, “I’m not here. Don’t say my name.”

  Her eyes widen and mutes her lips, “They can hear you.”

  “No,” shaking his head, “they can’t hear me like this. You won’t see me while they’re here either. You’ll forget when you’re outside.”

  “How will I forget?”

  He exhales through his nose, thinking of how to explain an ability that will drain him for several hours. The best he can come up with is, “You’re tired and been through a lot. You’ll be busy… and… you’re tired.”

  ◆◆◆

  Throughout several hours, Josephine watches enforcement agencies and sections of local government clear items. Officer Walker stays near her, simply counseling her after a death. Officer Walker explains the process while uniforms tote evidence boxes and plastic bags out of her house. Drake and all of his secrets are exposed with each possession he had hidden. They ask Josephine several questions with each find. Her answers are always the same. Compliant. Honest. Her mind is focused and, as Lucius had said, forgetting he’s inside. Not realizing the amount of energy zapping out of him in order for her to forget. To keep her safe from speaking of what doesn’t exist.

  Investigators clean out Drake’s car. They find a wadded shirt with chalices along the floorboard. Stolen goods belonging to a local church and priest. Drake’s vehicle is towed away from her property not long after. One by one the responders, detectives, investigators, coroners, and other officials finally leave. Eight hours after arriving, the last vehicle drives off with officer Walker waving goodbye, and wiping away any remnants of Drake ever living there.

  Josephine walks into the house. As soon as her foot crosses the threshold, everything rushes back. Lucius is sitting, resting on the staircase. Tired by the looks of it. Her lips part, “I… I —

  “You have a lot on your mind, Josephine,” he explained. “Don’t worry. No one saw me. We’re safe for now.” He gathers himself up and rubs over her arms. “You just have a lot on your mind.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  “For what?”

  She says, “I guess you’re right. I mean… I couldn’t even think while I was outside with the police. I felt strange. Is that what shock is?”

  “Do you remember them telling you that?”

  “Yes. Officer Walker said I was in shock. I could only repeat what happened. What you told me to say but… like I forgot you were in here. How could I forget?”

  He releases her, allowing his arms to rest at his side, “Don’t trouble yourself. It’s over.”

  “I must be tired.” She rubs her forehead, “I need something to eat.”

  “Great idea.” He strokes her back, leading her into the kitchen. “Let’s make something to eat. You’ve gotta be hungry. You haven’t eaten in twelve hours.” He stays close to her, and hides a personal form of protection through an interdimensional space. A space even his enemies cannot see, and only revealed with special light.

  She senses something. Warmth and protection. Her skin tingles as though he’s touching her and glimpses over. His hands are at his sides. She stops. “That feels different. I felt something. I still do.”

  He stutters, “Wh-what… what does it feel like?”

  “I can’t explain it, but…” staring at his arms, “like you’re holding me.” She wiggles her chin, “I sound so crazy.”

  His jaw drops, “That’s not crazy at all. What else?”

  “I don’t…” she hunches down.

  “Go on. You can tell me.”

  “Warm… like —

  “Like tingles?”

  Her brows stretch, “Yes. I thought it sounded crazy,” pointing b
ack at him, “That’s exactly what it feels like.”

  “Okay,” he said, taking a couple steps back. “Okay. But believe me… it’s not crazy.”

  “It’s gone,” she said.

  Lucius tilts his chin, “Just then?”

  She squeezes her eyes closed, “Lucius, I know I sound absolutely insane.”

  “No, you don’t.” He pulls his hands over his face, hiding his expression. “Do you need me to do anything?”

  “I’ve got it?”

  She picks up cold coffee cups, rinsing them in the sink. As her back is turned, Lucius tries something. He embraces from behind her. Watching her reaction. She immediately stops. The sensation like before returns. His warm breath massages her back neck, giving way to rising goosebumps over her body. He slides her hair over her shoulder, exposing the skin over her ear. “How about now?”

  Josephine leans against him, “It’s a little different but...” She’s frozen in place, nearly breathless, “don’t stop.”

  Lucius smiles and then touches his pursed lips over her skin multiple times without any want in his heart to stop. With each kiss, he savors her natural fragrance. His breath changes with an overflow of energy in his chest. “I could hold you forever like this.”

  “Then do,” she begs, “Hold me and don’t ever let me go.”

  He stops and laces his cheek across her shoulder, unable to open his eyes. “Let me… let me have this. Please, don’t take this away from me?”

  “This what? I’m not, Lucius. You can have me. Always.”

  His head shakes, “Nevermind.” And backs away. “You don’t know what I was saying.”

  Steam rises from the sink. She flips the faucet and glances over her shoulder, “What did you mean? This what?”

  “It’s nothing,” but she realizes the heaviness in his eyes. He says, “Don’t make this difficult for me.”