The Amaryllis

by Alyssa Adamson

  “You are disgusting.”

  I didn’t listen. My mind reeled with the possibility. “How would that even be possible?”

  “We wouldn’t know any better than you, little sister. It’s never been done before.”

  I choked on my own skepticism. “But you must have some theory.”

  “Well, let’s ask Philly. The only demon in the history of this world to infuse his own essence with a mortal’s.”

  Phil hesitated, though whether that was because he was formulating a response or because he’d been sold out for his lies, I couldn’t be sure. “When we feed, we move mortal essence from the host into us. I hadn’t known—hadn’t thought—no one’s ever—you were burning, Eden. I acted on instinct.”

  The truth of it began to settle. “What did you do?”

  “I needed to fix you. So when I touched you, instead of pulling your essence into myself, I took my own and transferred it to you. It was the only thing I could think to do.”

  My mind reeled. “But if I’m like you, wouldn’t my face heal up? I saw you—”

  “You just need some more juice. I bet any one of those humans out there could spare some.”

  “No!” Phil snarled. The curl of his arm wrapped around my waist, flattening my face to his chest. I imagined that his eyes bored into mine, entreating me to agree, but I couldn’t see him through the thick dark.

  “You’re such a stick in the mud, Phil. Miss Graves can do whatever she wants.”

  “She doesn’t want to be like you!”

  “Shut up, Phil, of course she wants to be like me. Everyone wants to be like me. And imagine how strong she’ll be when she’s actually fed. Strong enough to help out that kid in the hospital, maybe?”

  All thought stopped there. “I could?” Looking between them, I settled on the silhouette of Phil. “You could teach me?”

  “No. No Eden,” he groaned. “You would—”

  “Don’t worry, little sister. If you bat those eyelashes and smile at him, I know he won’t be able to resist you.”

  “You don’t understand—”

  “So I can do anything you guys can do?”

  “Eden—”

  “You’ll need training. But that’s nothing I’m not capable of. I’ve had centuries of practice.”

  “Please—”

  Hope already swelled in my chest. The image of Zach, alive and well, danced before my eyes and made me smile so hard my face ached. “We could…we could go now! We have to go now! Zach can’t have much time left.”

  “Sounds great to me. Sound great to you, Philly?”

  Phil’s voice came out quiet. Subdued. “Eden, I know Zach means a lot to you. But please. Think of this from the outside. How would it look if someone in that state walked out of the hospital unscathed?”

  I scoffed. “What do I care how it looks?”

  “You would risk exposing us.”

  He spoke with such finality. Such damning accusation. It turned questions over and over again in my mind. “You could heal again. If you’ve fed, there should be no reason you couldn’t.”

  Silence. I took that as agreement.

  “So if you could help him the whole time, and you didn’t, what reason could you possibly have for letting my friend die, Phillip?” Again, only silence. “Was it exposure? Was it always exposure?”

  Phil hesitated. “I was trying to protect you.”

  “As if I could believe that!” I smacked his shoulder. “Even if I wasn’t positive everything you do is for yourself, you’re a liar! I don’t know why I’m still so pissed. You lie. It’s what you do. But letting Zach die? To preserve your lies?” I choked. “How could you do it?”

  Phil straightened up. He already towered over me, but, this time, he did it to look down his nose. “I told you I would keep you safe.”

  “What the hell does that have to do with anything?”

  “If Zach walks out of that hospital intact, he’ll cause a spectacle. People will look into it. There will be suspicion. And that bodes ill for us. Any prying eyes bode ill for us. And what bodes ill for us risks you when you spend time with us. No one person is worth that.”

  I thought back on all the years I’d spent with Zach. Seeing that tuft of ginger hair in the halls through fifth and sixth grade. Bumping into him in seventh, knocking his lunch tray to the floor and showering us both in mashed potatoes. We’d been thick as thieves ever since. It felt like that shock of red colored my whole past.

  I tried to think of a future without it. A world that was dim and cold and lonely. A world full of guilt.

  My ire lit my face with heat. “He is worth everything.” I wanted to slap Phil for thinking any differently. If not for the traces of desire to kiss him, and all the misgiving that left, I might’ve tried.

  “Enough to steal from other people? Their time? Their lives?” Phil braced his hands on either side of my face, squeezing my cheeks together so I couldn’t get a word out, “You told me it was wrong. Is his worth all of theirs?”

  “Maybe not, but he’s definitely worth mine.”

  His leather-bound fingers crooked into my face like claws. “You can’t mean that—”

  If not for the sudden guilt making a home in my throat, I might’ve cared more that his tone alluded to a definite wrong answer. “Why not mine? I put him there. I should be the one that gets him out. I fell asleep. I crashed the car. I’ve got to fix this or I swear to god I won’t sleep through another night!”

  For a time, neither of them spoke. Then, from the dark, came Gregory’s smug chuckle. “You had me worried, Phil.”

  “Don’t speak.”

  “For all your talk of morality and nobility, I thought you might actually get somewhere with this impossible venture.”

  Phil’s hands never moved from my face, but they began to shake. “I said don’t speak!”

  “But you’re still the deceitful creature I’ve always known.”

  “I will put my fist through your heart.”

  “I challenge you to find one. Creatures of darkness. Creatures of lies.” He knocked on his chest, as though it would back up his statement with a hollow thud. He whispered, “No hearts.”

  I wiped at my eyes, rebelling against the traitor comfort leeching through his gloves. Comfort I didn’t deserve. “What’s he talking about, Phil?”

  “Oh, nothing. Nothing. Ignore me,” Gregory threw his hands over his face in mock devastation. “Gremory’s losing it. It’s the winter chill. You told us Georgia would be warm, Phil. I’m wilting.”

  Phil let me wave his hands away without a word. The repugnant taste of his dishonesty crept into my throat. I scowled at him. “You said you wouldn’t lie anymore.”

  “If only it were that easy.”

  “It could’ve been! But you lie continuously.”

  “You’re right,” he sighed. “I had hoped to have more time.”

  “Time? For—?”

  “For us. Just…time with you. Learning about plants. Sitting in the greenhouse. Being friends.” He stepped back, putting as much space between us as he could in a closet. “I have let you wallow in a guilt that shouldn’t ever have been yours. I did it selfishly, because the worry that you will leave me never ceases so long as I know what I am and what I’ve done. I beg your forgiveness. Your understanding. Although I’m well aware I deserve none of it.”

  I didn’t know what to say, so I said nothing.

  “You fell asleep at the wheel because of me. Because I fed from you. The only fault for Zach’s coma belongs with me.”

  12. Regret

  Lying in that hospital bed, Zach looked…dead. His chest barely moved with his breaths. The entire left side of his face stood up like bubble wrap. And his hands, that lay perfectly positioned atop the bedspread, contrasted purple against white sheets.

  Every exposed bit of his skin was criss-crossed with cuts and the triangular imprints of glass.

  The only reassurance that he was, indeed, alive, came from the occasi
onal beep of the IV, dispensing his pain medication. I covered my mouth to hold back the wretch. “Oh god.” Throwing myself to his side, I reached for his hand, stilled, and decided against it. Any foreign touch could very well break him. “He’s alive?”

  As opposed as I was to speaking to him, I looked only at Gregory. The prospect of talking to the other Bronwyn, the one who stood behind him despite my strict instructions that he not follow us here, was worse. Phil, in turn, didn’t look at me. He couldn’t look at me. But he couldn’t stay away, either.

  Gregory rolled his eyes. “Barely.”

  Phil nodded his agreement with eyes on Zach. While I could feel Gregory’s mischief roll off in waves, from his brother’s place, I felt nothing. No sadness. No compassion. No guilt.

  Then he lifted his head, eyes meeting mine, and a very strong, very real bout of emotion struck me like a projectile rock. Regret.

  “I think there’s enough negativity in this room without yours on top, Mephistopheles.”

  Phil ignored him. I only shook my head. “Can’t you leave?” His face twitched. “I don’t want you here.”

  “You heard her, Philly. Three’s a crowd.”

  “And who would show her how to save him?” he breathed. “You?”

  I forced myself not to care about their banter, or the vitriol pulsing through my veins at the sight of white blonde hair and violet eyes. I hated him. More, I thought, than I’d ever hated anyone. Which, in turn, made me hate myself. For trusting him. For worrying over him. And for thinking, even after all the lies and what he’d done to me and Zach, there might’ve been some smidgeon of endearment left in me that just refused to die. I scowled up at him. “Then tell me how to help him.”

  He winced and looked back at Gregory. “It took me centuries of using these abilities. And much more energy than you would have built up right now. Even if you do everything right, it is highly unlikely you could do anything for him. The most I imagine you’ll do is make yourself weak.”

  “Would you rather do it?” I growled.

  Phil’s face fell. I only saw it for a split second before he gathered himself into a hard mask, but, in that second, he looked like I’d delivered a physical blow. “No. I’ll leave that to you.”

  I trailed my eyes up the burned arms until I met Zach’s ruined face. “Tell me how.”

  “Eden, you have to understand,” he replied in a steely voice. “There is a chance, a great chance, that you won’t be able to help him. He’s in a fragile state. It is more likely that you would make him worse. You don’t know what you’re doing. Your instinct will be to feed.”

  “It’s a risk I’ll have to take.” What other choice is there?

  He hesitated. “Please, think of Zach. You would curse him, as I have cursed you.”

  “The only curse I have had to endure is listening to all your years of whining, little brother.”

  “This kind of power corrupts,” he whispered, paying no mind to Gregory. “It will turn him into something you won’t recognize and if you feed it, it will do the same to you.”

  I narrowed my eyes. “I’m sure he’ll appreciate being alive more than he’ll care about potential immortality, Phil.”

  With that, he glazed over like ice. “You have to touch the part of him you want to fix.”

  Gregory fell into the only chair in the room. “I wouldn’t worry about burning him. That seems like a moot point at the moment.”

  Phil ignored him. I tried to do the same, but my palms felt hot, distracting me from the task at hand. The blonde stepped forward until he stood between me and his brother. “Just shake it off. He wants a reaction.” His hand found my shoulder. The gesture had clearly been meant as a comfort but his resentment and regret crashed into me over and over and over again, filling my head with heat. “Just breathe. In through your nose. Out through your mouth. Keep calm or you could hurt Zach.”

  I did as he instructed, counting each rise and fall of my shoulders so I wouldn’t have to think of Gregory. Or him.

  “Now put your hand on him. Try both. It could be more concentrated if you try it with both.”

  I reluctantly placed my hands on Zach’s arms.

  “You have to concentrate. Think of how much you want him to live. Visualize his skin healing. Picture it like your energy is a physical entity, moving from you into him.”

  I didn’t know if he was aware but, as he spoke, his fingers trailed away from the cover of my shirt, caressing my bare neck with skin uncovered by leather gloves. My shaky breath slid out in a single puff. “Nothing’s happening.”

  “Just as I expected,” Phil deadpanned. “It could take years of practice to get this right. We should be glad you didn’t make him worse.”

  “No!” I pleaded. “Please, just…walk me through it again. Please, I can do it.”

  I had to.

  Shaking off what doubtful voices in the back of my head told me I was lucky—lucky—that I hadn’t killed Zach, I closed my eyes. Giving up couldn’t be a consideration. If I had to sit here and ‘practice’ for all the years it would take, then that was exactly what I’d have to do.

  “What else can I do? Please, I’ll do anything,” I swore.

  “There’s nothing else you can do. Just put your hands on his arm and want him to get better.” His fingers trailed absently over the back of my neck again. “You have to find the will. Think of how important he is to you.”

  I squeezed my eyes more tightly shut, gripping Zach’s skin until it collapsed under my fingers.

  “Concentrate—”

  “I’m concentrating.”

  I just had to think. Zach was my best friend. My brother. The light of my life for so many years spent in otherwise solitude. It wasn’t just a matter of wanting him to live.

  I needed him to live.

  “Eden, it’s not working,” Phil murmured. “We have to leave before we get caught in here. You’ll get in trouble.”

  “You worry too much, Philly. Take your time. Climbing out that window will be a lot easier than climbing in.”

  “Please live,” I whispered. “Zach, please live.”

  I opened my eyes, looking at his blurry silhouette through the shroud of tears. Nothing had changed.

  “Please live.”

  It started at his head, where his singed hair sprouted back in a healthy red. Then his face, which lost that purple hue in place of normal, pale flesh.

  Gregory gasped. “Oh dear.”

  Phil whispered similar sentiments, sprinkled with profanity. His hand flinched away, as though he’d suddenly realized that he’d been touching me all this time.

  As much as I wanted to shriek with triumph, I couldn’t break concentration. Even when hope welled up inside my chest, I recalled that despair. The desperation.

  Every visible inch of skin turned white as the purple bruises shrank into his arms. More specifically, to the hands I held over his arms. With each second I spent over him, my body fatigued. I clung to deep, steady breaths. Like coming in from a long run, my energy—my life—felt depleted, leeched through my very skin. It swept across our joined hands in a great flood.

  Only as the last of his burns vanished beneath my palms did I let myself slip away. Unable to hold myself up on my knees, I welcomed the sight of the floor rushing up to meet me, but Phil caught me under the arms. His nearness sent a ripple of disgust into my gut. Still, I couldn’t stop smiling.

  My whole body shook and it wasn’t until tears streamed over my cheeks in earnest that I realized I was laughing. “It worked? It worked! Shouldn’t he wake up?”

  Phil stammered, “I…I don’t know.”

  I struggled to stand and brace both hands on Zach’s shoulders. “Zach? Do you hear me?” I shook him. “Please, hear me?” I looked to Phil, momentarily forgetting that I was supposed to be mad at him. “Was I too late?”

  “Maybe he is a vegetable. You wouldn’t happen to have experience in brain surgery, do you, Phil?”

  The blonde seemed to b
e at a loss for words. “I don’t know. I didn’t have to heal your brain before. It’s possible it can’t be healed.”

  Zach’s finger twitched. His arm lifted and reached for the limb that had, just two minutes ago, been riddled with burns. When he found smooth skin, both of his hands met his face. Only smooth skin there, too. His eyes flickered open, taking in the room with a vacant stare.

  Then, he was screaming.

  I didn’t see it happen. I’d had my full attention on Zach, but, by the time any doctors or nurses could react to the noise, I’d already been bodily removed from the room. Phil’s arms wrapped around my middle with such inhuman strength that I couldn’t breathe. No one noticed. Every set of passing eyes looked only toward my friend’s room, which still emanated the sound of bloodcurdling shrieks, coupled now with the repetitive crash of plastic hitting the wall.

  Zach wasn’t taking near-death well.

  “Phil,” I hissed as we came upon the emptying stairwell.

  He ignored me.

  “Phillip!” I tried again, clawing in vain at the thick material of his shirt. My toes tried in vain to gain traction against the floor, but he held me just out of reach.

  This time he, at least, had the decency to growl that he’d heard me. “I’ve done it your way enough today, Eden. Now we do it my way.”

  “No, Phil.” That hand that wasn’t fisted in the front of his shirt tried to pry his arms from my stomach. “You’re hurting me.”

  He loosened up immediately, tossing me into the air and over his shoulder. What little air I’d been able to suck through my teeth blew out in a whoosh.

  “This is no better.”

  He sped up, practically dancing down the stairs so every step sent his shoulder into my gut. “What was that? You’ll have to speak up about this later. I’m a bit busy at the moment.”

  If I didn’t know any better, I might’ve thought he was having fun with this. Not being at the hospital, or being close to me, of course, but that, in the end, he’d done exactly as he’d wanted: spiriting away from the situation and all risk of exposure.

  It must’ve been just the cherry on top that he could punish me, too. I was certain to have bruises from this when I got home.