by S. L. Stacy
“Hey! Hey,” he says, holding up his hands in surrender.
“I know, I’m sorry,” I say. Tears well up in my eyes. These wings wouldn’t be such a problem for someone who wasn’t so damned emotional about everything. “Did you hear what his cousin said?” I ask. My stomach churns at the thought of her white eyes and demonic voice. “She told me I’m in danger. That I need to get out.”
“You’re not actually taking her seriously,” Jimmy exclaims in disbelief. “She probably just had a fit or a break down or something.”
“But I run into Jasper for the first time in six years, and now this girl who’s supposed to be psychic tells me it’s not safe for me here? This can’t just be a coincidence.”
“You think this has something to do with—” The front door swings open with a loud squeak, and Jimmy and I jump.
Farrah walks out into the hazy porch light.
“Here she is,” Farrah says to someone behind her. “Just out here chatting with one of her many admirers.” She gives Jimmy a sickeningly sweet smile. “I’m Farrah. Siobhan’s already mentioned me, I’m sure. I’m the one holding the girls to a new schedule.”
“Jimmy.” He nods at her. I catch his eyes appreciating the flimsy pale pink dress clinging to her trim figure. I can’t blame him, but I also can’t help the pang of annoyance shooting through me.
A man appears in the doorway behind her. He’s looking back at something over his shoulder, so at first I can only see half of his face. But it’s a beautiful half. Smooth black skin, high cheekbone, square jaw and a shaved head, which I don’t usually go for, but it works on him. He has broad shoulders and bulbous arm muscles straining against the fabric of his tight white t-shirt. I wonder if Jimmy notices me checking him out. As my eyes trail down his body, I notice one of his large hands clasps the end of a gold cane.
I glance down at my phone. It’s twenty after two. “No boys allowed in the house after two.” I beam innocently at Farrah.
“I’m showing Hef out now,” Farrah assures me. “Hef, this is Siobhan, our amazing social chair. This is Hef, my boyfriend.” I cringe inwardly. I hate it when old people call each other boyfriend and girlfriend. Okay, they’re not that old, but still.
Hef turns to me and smiles, and I have to swallow my gasp.
“It’s nice to meet you,” he says to me, his voice rich and deep. “Goodnight, Farrah.” Hef pecks her on the cheek. He drags himself down the doorstep with his cane, and Jimmy and I part to let him through.
“I guess I should be off, too. I’ll text you.” Jimmy looks like he’s going to kiss me, but then glances at Farrah and thinks better of it. He settles for an awkward wave.
Farrah holds open the door for me, and we go inside. Meeting Hef makes me see another side to Farrah, a side I don’t want to admit is there. I want her to be the gorgeous, prying, deceptive house mother that I hate, that I expose to everybody who flocks so blindly to her assuring words and venomous smile. The left side of Hef’s face is damaged beyond recognition. The dark skin is covered with welts and scarring, and the eye is almost sealed completely shut. It’s hard to believe it belongs to the same face as the other half. He’s like the Phantom of the Opera or something, without the luxury of a mask. If Farrah loves him, maybe she’s not as shallow and uncompassionate as I’d hoped.
“Am I in trouble?” I ask her before she goes into her room.
Farrah shakes her head. “I’ll give you a pass. But next time, I won’t be so generous. I like Victoria, but she’s been too lax in her duties. You girls lack discipline. I’m trying to remedy that.”
“Discipline? We’re a sorority, not the army.”
“In the times ahead, you’re going to need it.” Her words send a chill down my spine. They remind me of Vanessa’s. For once Farrah looks and sounds like—well, maybe saying like she cares is too much to ask for—more like she’s being straight with me. “You’re going to have to trust me on this one,” she adds before disappearing into her room.
Chapter 11
“Isn’t it strange…”
The familiar voice fades into the heavy silence, now punctuated only by a faint, rhythmic beeping sound. I can’t tell who the voice belonged to; my eyes are squeezed shut as I concentrate on trying to breathe instead. As hard as I try, I can’t take even a small breath; my throat is closing up. I keep grasping for consciousness, but it’s like someone is dangling it just out of my reach.
The tips of my fingers brush something cool and metallic, and I open my eyes and glance at my limp, outstretched hand. A copper goblet rolls back and forth on the floor like someone has just dropped it. Burgundy red liquid pools on the white marble. Slender but firm arms slide under my back to cradle me like a baby.
“Isn’t it strange how the very thing that keeps us beautiful, keeps us strong and invincible, is the very thing that can be our undoing?” The voice is as menacing as it is soothing, like a thousand tiny needles bristling underneath cashmere. I look up under hooded lids at its source. Two icy jade eyes meet mine…
“Turn it off!”
I wake up to the sounds of my phone alarm and Tanya’s grumpy voice.
“Sorry.” I blindly feel around for it on my nightstand and almost knock it onto the floor. Tanya groans into her pillow again. “I’m trying.” I finally scoop the phone up and shut it off.
Tanya rolls over to look at me, struggling to keep her eyes open. “It’s Saturday. Go back to sleep.”
“I can’t. Sam wants to go early to buy stuff for tonight.” Sam is Sigma Iota’s social chair. “Then we have to set up.” I don’t get up right away. Instead, I sit upright in my bed, my mind desperately trying to salvage the ghostly tails of my dream as they fade away.
“What’s wrong?”
“Nothing. I just had a weird dream.”
“About what?”
I pause, bringing my hand to my throat as I recall the feeling of not being able to breathe or swallow. “About Farrah trying to kill me.”
I hadn’t meant to say this out loud. But when I look up, Tanya is breathing deeply again, her eyes closed. Swinging my legs over the side of the bed, I slide to the floor and plod soundlessly to grab a towel and my shower caddy. After my shower I throw on dark gray yoga pants and our black Greek Sing t-shirt from last year. I go outside to meet Sam.
“You look snazzy!” I call out. Sam emerges from the Sigma Iota house just as I’m coming out. His usually flaming carrot red hair is muted and wet like he also just got out of the shower. Unlike me, he looks ready for tonight’s Black and White party. Sam and many of his Sigma Iota brothers are business majors, and they’re well-known on campus for their suits. He smiles at me and waves.
“And you look like you just got up,” he teases me. “So, where to first?”
We walk to the parking garage and get in Sam’s sleek red convertible. Our first stop is the party store at the mall, followed by the supermarket. We drive back to campus loaded with the supplies necessary to transform the smelly, sticky Sigma Iota basement into an elegant cocktail lounge. After I’ve supervised the party committee for a few hours, Sam takes over so I can go home to get ready.
“Are you going to be okay here?” I ask.
“I think I can manage,” Sam assures me.
I nod and start climbing the stairs, but I stop three steps up. “Are you sure?” So far we’ve swept, mopped, disinfected and set up round tables with chairs on one side of the room, but all of the decorations still need to go up.
“What, don’t you trust me?” he asks me, parting his lips to feign astonishment.
“Of course I do. I’m sorry. I guess when it comes to our social events, I’m kind of a control freak,” I admit.
Sam’s look tells me that this is definitely the case.
Back at the house, I change into a black strapless cocktail dress and heels. At the bathroom sink I curl my hair and gather half of it back with a fake pearl hair clip, letting a few curls loose to frame my face. I give my eyes what I hope is a sult
ry, smoky look using gray shadow and charcoal eye liner. At eight, I meet my sisters downstairs, and we all walk over to the SI house together.
The risk managers from our respective houses stand at the front door giving wrist bands to those who are twenty-one and over. They check me in first, and I hurry to the basement to do a frantic, last-minute review of the room before my sisters follow me downstairs. The black beads of the curtain hanging in the doorway clack against each other as I part it with my fingers and step inside.
Sam sees me coming in and walks over, grasping two glass goblets filled with red liquid.
“It looks great,” I tell him. Black and white puffs made of tissue paper dangle from the ceiling, and clear holiday lights twinkle along the walls. Each table is draped with a black polyester tablecloth and illuminated by a centerpiece of white flowers and tealight candles. The Sigma Iota pledges are stuck with serving duty and circulate the room in black suits juggling platters of hors d’oeuvres. Next to the bar, a buffet table offers a selection of fruits, pretzels and cookies for dipping into the molten chocolate rippling down the fountain in the center. Jazz music thumps pleasantly in the background.
“A toast to our awesomeness,” Sam says, offering me one of the wine glasses. I grimace but take it anyway. Our glasses clink, and Sam takes a gulp of wine.
“What, don’t like red wine?”
I shake my head. “Hate it. Sorry.” He has no idea just how much I hate it. The sight alone makes bile rise in the back of my throat.
“No problem.” He takes the glass from me and cocks his head toward the bar. “I’ll get you a cocktail instead.”
As the night goes on, the D. J. eventually replaces the soft jazz soundtrack with loud, throbbing techno, and the basement hums with tipsy chatter and laughter. Hips sway to the music and lips interlock as people pair up for the evening. I’m sitting in a back corner sipping a cosmopolitan and playing Assassin with Tanya, Sam and some of the other SI brothers. Movement out of the corner of my eye makes me look over my cards at the buffet, where Liz talks to someone as she drenches a strawberry with chocolate. A large grin spreads on her face, and she giggles at something her companion has just said. Elegant fingers reach out to briefly touch the smooth mocha skin of her shoulder. The sleeves of his black dress shirt are rolled up to the elbows, revealing lean forearms. My eyes travel up to his broad shoulders and shoulder-length, slightly wavy dark hair. His midnight blue eyes meet mine just as I’m finally realizing who it is.
Oh, you have got to be kidding me.
I throw my cards on the table and stand up.
“What are you doing?” Tanya wonders.
“Sorry, I need some air,” I tell them before running as fast as I can in my heels up the stairs.
So much for getting some air. When I burst through the front door, the night air is stifling and heavy with the promise of rain. Lights and music pour from the Saturday night parties going on at other houses. I slow down to an amble, the heels of my shoes clicking angrily along the driveway. Behind me, a door groans open and slams shut again.
“Siobhan, wait!” Jasper’s voice calls out to me. His shoes smack against the sidewalk as he jogs to catch up with me.
“Leave me alone!” I toss back without breaking my stride. But then I whirl around, crossing my arms in front of my chest.
“First the concert, now the party?” I explode. “What are you doing? Stalking me or something?”
He catches up with me but keeps a few feet of distance between us. “I know how this looks, but no, of course not. I’m an SI alum.”
“An alum,” I repeat slowly. That’s unlikely, but sure enough I see the Sigma Iota badge—a gold shield set with two garnets and one black opal—glinting from his shirt collar.
“I knew you were a Gamma—I should have mentioned it to you. I’m sorry.”
I search his eyes for the truth, also taking this opportunity to admire the marble white planes of his face and the sensuous curve of his lips. We’re standing just where the edge of the porch light fades into darkness, and out here his eyes take on the color of night, glinting like black diamonds. They don’t seem to be lying, but then again, they’re not shining with honesty, either. With those eyes Jasper can delve into my soul, but I can’t even skim the surface of his.
This has given me a good excuse to look at him, but now I’m finding it difficult to look away. Or stay annoyed. I sigh and uncross my arms.
“I’m sorry, too. I overreacted,” I insist, deciding to go along with his excuse—at least for now. “I shouldn’t have assumed—that was really self-centered of me.”
“I do think we need to talk,” he says. “Do you want to go for a walk?”
I look past him at the Sigma Iota house. As social chair, it’s pretty rude and irresponsible of me to just up and leave in the middle of a mixer. But as far as they know, I’m still with one of the brothers. We shouldn’t be gone for long.
To be honest, I’m dying to hear what he’s so eager to tell me.
“Sure,” I concede.
At first, Jasper and I walk side-by-side in tense silence. After only a few minutes of this I can’t stand it anymore.
“So, how do you know Liz?” I wonder.
“I’ve had her in class,” he explains. “She’s a nice person. I’m setting her up with one of the brothers.”
From the look Liz was giving Jasper, I think there’s only one Sigma Iota brother she’s interested in.
We lapse back into silence. I watch my feet clomp over the ground, but I can sense Jasper’s eyes on me.
“What did you want to talk about?” I look over at him and still give a start when I realize that he is, in fact, staring at me. Our eyes meet, and he smiles almost shyly.
“Sorry if I’m making you uncomfortable. It’s just…you have blossomed into an even more beautiful woman than I could have imagined.”
It’s such a cheesy line—the kind that would usually make me burst out laughing. But instead my breath catches in my throat, and the slow, deliberate way he says “beautiful woman” makes heat gather between my thighs. I find myself falling into his penetrating gaze. I’m not sure I like the feeling. It’s what I imagine sky diving must feel like—an exhilarating, scary plunge into the unknown.
“What did you mean at the bar?” I persist.
“Hm?”
“I told you I remembered you from the forest, but you said that’s not what you were talking about. So what were you talking about?”
Jasper hesitates. “Siobhan, what I have to tell you is going to be hard to believe. I know you don’t remember me, don’t know me, but I hope as time goes on I can earn your trust again.”
Again? What the heck is he talking about? I hide my incredulity with an encouraging smile.
“We’ve met before—before you and your friends found me in the forest,” he clarifies. “You knew me in a past life.
Part Two
Surrender
“Love looks not with the eyes, but with the mind, and therefore is winged Cupid painted blind.”—William Shakespeare, A Midsummer Night’s Dream
Chapter 12
“A past life?” I try to stifle my laughter, but it still comes out through my nose. I cover my nose and mouth with my hand and clear my throat.
“Yes. A past life on another world. My world.”
“Just when I thought it couldn’t possibly get any better.” I shake my head, my mouth opening and closing like it yearns to say more, but I have nothing left to say. I turn around and walk back toward the Sigma Iota house.
“What are you…where are you going?” In two swift steps Jasper is walking alongside me again.
“All I want are some answers!” I exclaim in frustration.
“I know. And I’m trying to give you some.”
“No, you’re not.” I stop abruptly, and Jasper takes a few steps past me before he realizes it and comes to a stop himself. “I want to know how you gave me these wings. And why?” I demand, marching up to him an
d getting in his face. Well, as much as a five-foot-two girl standing on the tips of her toes can get in anybody’s face. “Why did you give them to me and then just…leave? What are you doing here?”
“Sorry, your wings?” he asks me. His eyes narrow with concern. Even though I know I shouldn’t doubt myself, for a brief moment I'm humiliated, afraid that I've been under the wrong assumption for the last six years, that Jasper didn’t do anything to me, that I was always a freak...
Jasper laughs, but it falters when he sees my face, which I can feel is scarlet red. “It was just a joke,” he mumbles.
“These are the questions I want answered,” I continue as if he hadn’t just made that lame attempt to lighten the mood. “Instead you feed me some garbage about knowing you in a past life. Oh, and on another planet.” While my own incredulous laughter rings out into the night, whispers of doubt massage the back of my mind: You dreamed about him before you even met him. Maybe he’s telling the truth.
“You want to know why I’m here?” Jasper grabs my chin with his hand and brings my face closer to his. His eyes drill even more deeply into mine, if that’s possible. “I’m here for you.”
The color drains from my face, and I stagger backwards without really going anywhere because of his unrelenting grasp. “Is that supposed to be a threat? You’re going to need to try harder.” My hoarse whisper betrays my fear. The flesh of my back ripples as my wings stir underneath it.
Jasper releases my face. “Of course not. That came out wrong.” He turns away from me, digging his hands into his pockets.
“You wanted to know why I’m here,” he says, facing me again. “I’m trying to tell you. You’re someone very important back home.”
“Your home.”
“Our home,” he corrects me. “I gave you your wings back because I thought they would help you remember who you are.”
“Great plan. Too bad it didn’t work. So, how did you give them to me?” I ask again.