The Amaryllis

by Alyssa Adamson

  I couldn’t reply around the stream of bile pulsing up my throat. When, finally, I was spent, I collapsed against the nearest tree trunk. “It was just fun. No one gets hurt. Fun.”

  He bent down to my level and poked me on the nose. “You’re looking a little worse for wear, Eden. Sensitive stomach?”

  “Don’t touch me.”

  “What an awful grump you are today. Might I remind you whose help you asked for in your time of need. Numerous times of need I might add.”

  “You did nothing.”

  “Was it not I that told you to help Zach? Did I not inform you that you could?”

  As begrudging as I was to admit it, I nodded.

  “I have come to collect. I helped you once, now I need your help.”

  “Mine?” I squawked. I looked down at my hands, at the stain of blood that marred my pale skin. I didn’t want to move from this spot, even for exposure or starvation or hypothermia, let alone for Gregory. “I don’t think I’m in much shape for helping.”

  “I’m afraid you might be the only one capable.” He shook his head in mock devastation. “Phil’s got it in his head that the lives of mortals are…glamorous.” He paused, looking over my shoulder with a far-away stare. “For the life of me, I don’t know what it is. They’re like dogs. Entertaining for a brief while, then they get old. Ugly. And then they die and you get yourself a puppy.”

  I tried to swallow my disgust, but the feel of it warmed my face. “A dog?”

  “Oh, don’t look so upset, little sister. You were born a dog but look at you now. You’re walking on two legs.”

  “What do you want, Gregory?” I spat.

  He smirked. “I can preach the benefits of immortality until I’m blue in the face and get nowhere with him. But you…I believe he’ll be more receptive to your methods of persuasion.”

  I snorted. “And what methods are those?”

  “Hmm. She walks on two legs, but she’s still stupid like a dog.”

  I shoved him, only to be disappointed that he didn’t budge. “Phil is a big boy. He can make his own decisions.” Spitting the words like acid on my tongue, I snapped, “Phil is not my responsibility.”

  “Oh, come now, Edy. You can’t possibly be on board with the idea of our dear Phil marching off to his death.”

  I silenced, shoving the idea far from my mind. Only days ago, that would’ve been a guarantee for me and Zach and even the Bronwyns if they were of anything acceptable in the world I’d known.

  Death came to us all. Even Phil.

  “Please. Tell me it doesn’t matter to you that you will live an eternity without him.”

  I swallowed through the tightness in my throat. “He can make his own decisions.”

  “But a decision that doesn’t include you? Don’t insult my intelligence, Eden. You must know that a mortal existence won’t include either of us. We would be dangerous to him. Can you imagine the life he would have? High school. College. Medical school.”

  “You act like those are terrible things,” I faked a smile. “He deserves to have a life like that.”

  “Are you so agreeable with the prospect of what comes after? I imagine he’ll find an equally stupid mortal to spend the rest of his life with. Reproduce with her. Grow to hate his job. Divorce his wife. And then, after the years of drinking have destroyed him, he’ll die alone because Mom got the kids. Then, you and I will stand at his funeral, just as young as we are now, and wonder why the hell you didn’t save him this terrible fate.”

  Gregory was a jerk. I knew I shouldn’t listen to a word he said. But, against all logic, his words painted a picture in my head that I couldn’t shake. Phil, standing at the end of a long aisle while some faceless woman in white marched toward him on her father’s arm. A woman that wasn’t me.

  The stark feeling of jealousy tore through me with such ferocity that in its wake it left palpable, roiling nausea. My legs shook. I didn’t understand it. How could I hate someone I’d never met, so much? Someone who might never exist?

  I didn’t have any claim over Phil. If he chose to marry someone else, I couldn’t stop him. Wouldn’t try to stop him. He deserved that happiness, even if it was one I couldn’t give him. That was the only fair thing to do.

  And what the hell would I have to show for it if he did? A life with Zach, if he chose to stay with me for all of eternity? A life with Gregory? A life of loss?

  First, my parents. Then Phil. Inevitably, Zach, whenever he’d decide to branch out. And then, after all of that, I would still be the same thing I was now. Never moving forward. Never gaining anything. Never contributing anything but more loss.

  And that dead face would haunt me every night for all of eternity. Collateral damage in all of our ‘fun.’

  “He doesn’t love me,” I recalled.

  “No. But you love him anyway.” He crouched low, fingers squeezing my nose until it hurt. “Isn’t that enough?”

  I…didn’t know. I didn’t want to think about it anymore. All that was clear and good and normal in the world, was the knowledge that I wanted to go home.

  20. Primrose

  Zach had never been so happy, so long as I could remember, exclaiming about the crowd of people that had watched him destroy all manner of houseware from glasses to toaster ovens to one television with a wave of his hands the previous night. He hadn’t gotten any sleep, but he didn’t need it. On the way through the halls, I’d watched him touch anyone that came near. There had been no shortage. Now that Zach was Joy’s own seraphim, everyone wanted to steal a moment of his day.

  Every moment that saw him in my sight made me sick. How could I love him so much, worry for him night after night that I’d wake to find him still lying in that hospital bed, and, yet, be so disgusted with him.

  My throat swelled with the need for more tears.

  This wasn’t my Zach. Not the Zach who’d kept me company through school or the Zach who’d stayed up all night eating Chinese food in his basement with me or the Zach I’d given a piece of myself to save. This was a…creature. An imposter.

  A Gregory.

  “How can you care about a toaster?”

  His face dropped. “What? What’s up?”

  “You knocked a family with children off the road yesterday.”

  He breathed a sigh of relief. “That? Geez, scare a guy to death.”

  “Scare a guy?” I looked around the library in search of validation and found none. “Why don’t you care?”

  “They shouldn’t have made a problem with me,” he shrugged.

  I choked on my own saliva, head falling so I wouldn’t have to look at him anymore. “They cut you off on Broad Street. And they didn’t even slow you down. You still…” My hand flattened over my mouth. “You…”

  “Edy.”

  When I finally dragged my eyes up to look at him, he’d schooled himself into a front of patience, as though he’d become my father since yesterday.

  “You’re really broken up about that car, aren’t you?”

  “The car? Zach, what do I care about a car? I care about the people that were in the car! A man died. Don’t you care?”

  “Well…yeah? But this is my world, Edy. Our world. You and me. And if they don’t like it…” he waved his hand and a row of books fell off the shelf at my back. One of them emitted smoke, charred around the edges.

  My stomach lurched. “Just like that.”

  “Just like that.”

  “What about your mom? And your dad?”

  He snickered. “Well that doesn’t matter here, does it, since it’s not my mom.”

  “But you’d care if I just went up and…” I waved my hand but nothing fell off the shelf. Nothing ever would again, if I could help it. “Just like that.”

  His patient smile dipped. “What are you doing?”

  “Doing?”

  “You’re trying to make this a bad thing now, aren’t you? Why can’t you just let it lie, Eden? You can’t ever let anything lie. We have god-like p
ower. Nothing can ever hurt us, and you can’t just sit and enjoy it. What is the matter with you?”

  “It’s not the powers. It’s what they’ve done to you.”

  He scoffed. “They haven’t done anything.”

  “You’re not you.”

  “Well, of course I might be a little different, but who wouldn’t be?” He pointed to a couple of people at a table across the room. “You see them? We’re not like them, Edy. We’re us. And they’re the cheeseburgers that feed us. We don’t have to play nice with them. Would you treat a cow like an equal?”

  I chewed on my lip.

  The bell rang, which boded just well for me. Someone was sure to notice the mess he’d made and I didn’t feel like explaining why one of them was partially aflame. Besides, I needed to get far away. Zach sighed. “Where are you going?”

  “Anywhere.”

  I set off into the hallway, starting toward the exit with him on my heels. “Edy!”

  Rounding on him before the exit, I shoved him backward a few steps. “Don’t ‘Edy’ me. You don’t have any right to call me that anymore.”

  “What are you talking about, Edy?” He stopped me before I could hasten away. “Look, this is just another little spat. You’ll come around. Everything will be fine by tomorrow. Try to calm down.”

  “Calm down?” I growled. “As far as I’m concerned, I do not know this person standing before me. You are a stranger. And no stranger I want to get to know at that. I never thought I’d see him in you.”

  He laughed darkly, still oblivious to the gravity of my dislike. “Who?”

  “Gregory.” I thrust the doors open and stopped dead. “Oh my God.”

  Things hadn’t gotten better. They were worse. Much, much worse. A crowd extended into the parking lot, surrounding us on all sides with no end in sight. The campus looked more like a rock concert than a high school.

  It was hard to tell which was the majority: young people with long, unkempt hair and patchy outerwear? Middle-aged people in conservative clothes? The smell of body odor wafted over them all in equal parts and each of them shared a hopeful desperation. The moment we walked into view, the sound of their cries of “Zachary! The holy redeemer! The savior!” immediately made my ears ring.

  “Holy…” Zach sang, staggering back toward the sanctuary of school.

  A man, probably no older than forty, threw himself to the ground, arms wrapping around both of Zach’s legs to hold him in place. “Please, please don’t go!”

  My friend gasped, “What—?”

  “I have cancer. It’s spread so far that I’ve got a few months, at most. They say you’re an angel,” he pleaded, on his knees. “Am I worthy of saving?”

  Zach looked around at the gathered faces watching his every move and looked momentarily afraid. I took him by the arm, wanting very much to be home. Alone. “We should leave.”

  I knew the feeling that must’ve been coursing through him because I felt it, too. The sadness. And even worse, the hope. It wasn’t fair that he should die so early, but what was either one of us to do? No matter how much Zach stared at him, he couldn’t actually heal him. And I…I didn’t even know if cancer fit under my umbrella of healing, promise to Phil or not.

  Zach cleared his throat. “Everyone is worthy of saving.”

  A rumble of approval went through the crowd. They closed in, approaching with such volume that they forced me away from him. Like in a violent ocean, I felt myself drifting further.

  From the outskirts of the crowd, I stared at the distant red head. I hardly knew him at the moment. Zach was about as religious as a blade of grass and, while he was prone to theatrics and delusions of grandeur, he’d lived a relatively meek existence. Where did he get off playing with these people’s beliefs?

  “Everyone is worthy of being healed,” he continued, raising his hands above his head.

  I felt nauseous.

  “No,” I snapped, diving into the fray and pulling Zach away from his admirers. “He’s no savior. He’s no angel. Leave us alone.”

  My friend had the nerve to look disappointed that he wasn’t allowed to play God. “Oh come on, Edy.”

  “Do not start.”

  The man lurched to his feet, reaching for Zach with both hands. “Please, seraphim. Just one touch. Heal me.”

  “He can’t heal anything,” I continued, leading him away.

  “Please. I have a family. What’re they going to do when I’m dead?”

  Another pang of sadness hit me. “I don’t know.”

  Zach forced me to stop and I had to struggle to hear him over the growing disapproval from his followers. “It’s not going to hurt anybody if I tell them he’s healed. What’s wrong with giving them a little hope?”

  “It’s not right.” I shook my head.

  “You don’t know what’s right.”

  The sounds of hate and distaste grew until they easily overshadowed us. “She’s a nonbeliever!”

  “You’ll burn in hell fire!”

  “Get out of here! Leave, blasphemer!”

  Something hard struck my face, knocking me to the ground. Almost simultaneously, a rock thumped against the dirt beside me.

  “Oh God, Edy!” Zach shielded me with his body but the rocks kept coming, striking my legs and arms and chest wherever they could reach them around Zach’s slight figure. “Hey! Stop it!”

  He gathered me under my arms, forcing me to my feet. Before we ran, I looked over the crowd to watch for other projectiles and staggered backwards as a full soda can struck my lip. Falling back to my knees, I retreated into my mind, ignoring the screams around me. In the silence, thought didn’t run through my head. In the stasis, there was only feeling.

  Warmth lit up my fingers. With every passing second, it came hotter and hotter and then so blisteringly hot that I wanted to flinch away from a pain I couldn’t see. And with the pain, came the unintelligible rage.

  How dare they hit me? I’d wanted to help them; had said their lives mattered…and they’d struck me.

  They didn’t deserve it. They were the cattle. The burger on my plate. I couldn’t hold them to any higher a standard than that—

  The grate of scaly skin on my hands pulled me back into the now, and into violet depths. Phil looked desperate, eyes wide and round and jaw hanging slightly ajar. He gripped me tightly, palms hanging over the top of mine while an actual flame flickered with life between us. His fragile skin bubbled and purpled from the heat.

  I retracted them with a squeak of protest. “Oh god—”

  “This isn’t you,” he hissed so only I would hear. Behind him, the audience of Zach’s followers stood silently, watching us.

  My stream of consciousness didn’t extend passed Phil’s injuries. “What—?”

  “This isn’t you,” he repeated. “It’s him.”

  I followed his stare back at the crowd, looking from face to face to face at each person looking back at me. They were completely unfamiliar and I saw nothing more than the nameless mass of cattle that lived to feed me.

  Then Phil’s words went through my mind anew. They mattered. I’d insisted they mattered. Just like my parents mattered. Just like Phil mattered.

  I nodded, straightening up so my back remained to the mob. Phil urged me to follow and I held him in my sight, not even daring to breathe, until we were safe in the Mustang. He locked the doors and threw the car into reverse. Zach’s followers darted out of the way, narrowly avoiding an unfortunate flattening.

  They screamed their protests after us, slapping the windows and pulling at the handles. Phil gunned it, sending us flying from the lot and away from the crowd. Their screams faded away with the distance and I, finally, breathed a sigh of relief.

  “Are you alright?”

  I looked in the rearview mirror, noting that my lip had already healed and the bruise I knew should’ve been forming on my cheek was currently fading away to nothing. The most startling thing to see in my reflection were the twin pools of blood in my
eyes. I sighed, leaning back so I wouldn’t have to see it anymore.

  “I think I burned up my contacts. I’m better than I feel.”

  He chewed on his lip, but he said nothing. We sat in silence until he pulled up to the store. Dad’s truck didn’t sit in its usual spot. It didn’t sit here at all. A ‘Sorry, We’re Closed’ sign hung in the window.

  I didn’t move. The silence didn’t feel as pleasant as I recalled in the broken store. Another presence, even if he said nothing, would’ve made all the difference.

  “Would you like to come in?” I asked.

  “Okay.”

  Trudging across the gravel, I led him through the door and locked up behind us. He gravitated instantly toward the roses, slipping in ahead of me and staring back expectantly through the glass.

  I hesitated. “I…I don’t know if I should…”

  “You’ll be okay.”

  “What if I break this one, too?”

  He reached for me, taking my wrists in his maimed hands and leading me into the greenhouse.

  “Oh God, Phil. Your hands.”

  He grimaced. “It’s alright. It only hurts when I move.”

  I reclaimed my arms, rushing to the counter. There was a first aid kit around here somewhere… It had been moved since I’d cut up my face blowing up the greenhouse, but it still hung haphazardly from its new shelf. Dad had practically thrown it in our haste to get to the car.

  Phil sat on the bench, palms up on his knees. He didn’t look at them, though. He didn’t even look at me. He looked into the furthest reaches of the room, at the cluster of primroses in the corner. I flopped onto the bench beside him, jerking his attention back to me while I searched for burn cream.

  “Why the hell would you do that, Phil?” I demanded.

  He shrugged. “It’s not so bad.”

  “Not so—We should be going to the hospital!”

  “Some burn cream would suffice, if you don’t mind.” I didn’t argue. The look of his damaged skin, the damage I’d caused, made me want to wretch.

  “I’m…I’m sorry, Phil.”