Nostalgia swept over her and she couldn’t help but think back to their earlier years—their happier years—when they had actually shared their secrets with one another. Those years, like most Estella realized, had been rough on Xander, and while it was clear that he suffered what surprised her most was how much he had held back; how much he had kept secret. This was never more evident than the day that he had accidently introduced her to the world of magic.
It had started like any other day, but at lunchtime Xander hadn’t been as quick in taking his normal seat across from her. For ten minutes, her tiny head had swiveled from side to side, scanning the crowded area for her friend. It was only when her eyes felt so worn out from searching that they might roll from their sockets that Xander had finally entered the cafeteria.
She had known that something was wrong.
His solemn face hung so low that his features were hidden under the curtain of black hair. His steps were slow and uneven, and Estella had winced at the realization that her friend was limping. As he made his way to their table, he had been bumped and shoved by the other students, who had shown no mercy despite his obvious pain. Nearby, a teacher who Estella remembered had once called her friend a “freaky little bastard” when he thought nobody was listening had looked away, pretending not to notice the bullies’ antics.
When he’d finally reached their table, Xander wouldn’t look up and instead offered only a nod as a greeting.
Estella, almost driven to tears from her friend’s obvious distress, had been frantic, “Are you alright?” she’d demanded. She had noticed then that his hands were shaking. Frowning at this, she’d looked at his face, trying to see through his bangs to his eyes, “What happened?”
Xander’s face was twisted in a scowl as he turned his head towards some kids who were still laughing at him.
“Xander…” Estella’s voice, she remembered, had been a meek whisper and she’d tried to reach out to him.
Hearing his name, he turned and parted his lips. “I told the principal to ‘fuck off’ and he took me to the office,” he’d finally told her.
Though he’d seemed to swear a lot since his mom had gotten remarried, it still made Estella feel rotten whenever she heard it and her cheeks had gone hot at the F-word.
Xander, noticing her reaction and recalling her aversion to cursing, frowned and looked away. “Sorry,” he’d grumbled.
Estella had smiled and nodded her appreciation. She’d known that Xander didn’t like to say he was sorry, but for her his apologies were always genuine.
A brief silence took place before she had decided to try and find out again what was wrong, “So what happened?” she’d asked.
Xander’s frown had returned and he pulled his still shaking hand out from under hers. “I don’t want to talk about it,” he’d answered.
Estella wasn’t sure how to respond, and after a moment of thought a slight grin pulled at the corners of her lips, “Does Trepis want to talk about it?”
When they had first met Xander had told her about his friend, Trepis. Since then, the two of them—or, rather, the three of them—had spent most of their time alone, talking amongst themselves. It had seemed that if ever there was something that Xander didn’t want to talk about, Trepis would be more than happy to offer the details.
A blank look had crossed Xander’s face as it often did when Trepis was about to talk for Xander. Before he’d said anything, however, Xander had shaken his head and looked away, “I don’t want to talk about it!” he’d repeated.
Estella, for the first time, felt nervous for Xander and her throat tightened as her jaw trembled, “B-but…”
Xander was on his feet before she could get the whole word out. “I need to go,” he’d said in a low tone.
He had been halfway towards the exit when one of the older kids stuck out their foot, snagging him in mid-step and sending him sprawling to the ground and the cafeteria erupted in a roar of laughter. Xander was slow in getting back up, his body shaking so hard that Estella was afraid that he’d been hurt. While everyone stared down at him, cackling, Estella had watched as the bully’s lunch tray began to shake on the table.
While nobody else seemed to notice this phenomenon, however, Estella watched intently. Xander, though slow to do so, had risen to his feet and narrowed his eyes in anger. As his rage intensified the tray’s quaking seemed to become more violent and Estella realized at that moment that Xander was responsible for what was happening. In a flash, it shot forward from the table’s surface and struck the still-laughing bully, smearing its contents all over his back. The boy spun around then, enraged, and demanded to know who had thrown his lunch at him. Looking around and confirming that nobody had seen what had happened, Xander was quick to turn and leave.
That day had marked the beginning of her path into the world of magic; a path that she blazed through over the years—studying and practicing until she’d all but perfected the art. Knowing from day one that Xander didn’t want her to know the truth about it, she never approached him with the subject.
Estella sighed as the living room lights from her house came into focus between the rows of trees. Despite the sadness from the memories, it felt good to be able to recall the times she had had with her best friend. Knowing that her journey had come to an end, she stepped past the threshold into her backyard and headed towards the patio door. Finally inside, she hurried through the living room she called out “I’m home” and “Goodnight” to her parents before making her way up two flights of stairs to her bedroom in the attic.
Though they had remained friends for some time after that, their secrets had put a dent in the friendship. She hadn’t been happy about lying to Xander, especially since doing so only seemed to put more and more secrets between them until their friendship was dry and brittle.
But it had been the death of Xander’s mother that had finally shattered it.
The lingering scent of Dragon’s Blood incense hung in the air as she entered her room and she breathed in before taking out and lighting a fresh stick. With the aromatic silver smoke coiling and churning about the room, she went about looking for the old birthday card. She thought of the hand-made gift in her mind, hoping the energies they invoked would help lead her to it; she pictured the plain white paper folded in half with the picture of the two of them glued to the front that had been taken on Xander’s one visit to her house. Remembering the way it looked the last time she’d used it for the spell: the paper faded and beginning to turn a slight yellow shade. Then she thought of what was written inside:
“Whenever you need a friend”
Xander had never been sentimental and he was most certainly not the poetic type, but those five words had meant everything to Estella and, thinking back on it, they still did. Despite it being all that Xander could give her for her birthday that one year it had been Estella’s greatest gift—both then and ever since.
She had never felt more loved.
A spark caught her attention at that moment and she turned towards her closet, remembering the shoebox and went about digging until she found the small pink and white box therein. Extracting it, she shook off some of the dust that had collected on the lid before pulling it off and exposing an ancient pair of pumps and, beneath them, the birthday card. The familiar picture stared up at her as both a reminder of her lost friendship as well as the last time she had cast this spell—the same shiver from before seizing her in the middle of her spine. Taking the card into her palms as though it were a living thing that might die at any moment, Estella lingered on the image before turning and taking it to her bed.
Estella frowned as she held the birthday card. She clenched her teeth as she traced a finger down the image of young Xander’s cheek in the photograph. She had been so ignorant when it had been taken; so absolutely stupid!
“How could I have been so blind?” she whispered to it.
All of Xander’s anger and pain had been his stepfather’s doing. He was the one person who w
as responsible for all of the hurt that Xander had felt in his life, and she hadn’t seen it in time. She never even had any suspicions until the night she’d gone into his head and seen flashes of his memory as the shaky gun barrel shook against his teeth. It was his name that had, over and over again, flooded his mind as he mustered the courage to once again pull the trigger.
Kyle…
It hadn’t been unusual for Xander to miss a few days of school—it was actually a rare event if he made it through a full month. Estella had been, of course, upset to be without her friend whenever this happened, but there was little she could do.
The worst of the absences was when he had fallen down the stairs and landed himself in the hospital for several weeks. Though it was out of the way, Estella had visited him every day during his time there.
It was during one of these visits that she’d met the monster.
She had been leaving Xander’s hospital room, his mother having just arrived for her own visit. Though Xander always put on a strong act during her visits, Estella had been able to see the obvious pain of his injuries each time he shifted in bed and it had been all she could do to hold her tears in until she was out of the room. She had been halfway down the hall, working on collecting herself so that her mother wouldn’t see her crying when a strange and sudden cold had overcome her. As the frigid sensation came to rest at the base of her neck, Estella had almost collapsed under the weight of a heavy dizziness. When at last the dizziness had begun to fade, she looked up and noticed Kyle sitting in the waiting room; staring at her with a sadistic grin.
A hot blush had taken to Estella’s cheeks as she fought her natural urge to look away. She’d seen Kyle before in passing and recognized him as Xander’s stepfather. Though she felt uneasy maintaining eye contact with the man, she knew that to look away would be rude and as she stood there, fighting the fear that Kyle seemed to instill, the dizzying cold returned and caused her to flinch.
“Cold, aren’t they?” he’d said, still staring; still grinning.
Estella’s jaw had felt too stiff to speak, “H-huh?”
Kyle’s grin had widened and she’d felt bile rising in her throat. “Hospitals,” he’d clarified, “they’re always so cold.” His face turned serious, and Estella shivered in her bed as the still-vivid memory played out. “That was why you shivered, right?”
The question had seemed more like a demand.
Estella had been unable to respond, her jaw too taken in whatever fear-born paralysis it had been in. Eager to get away, she’d finally pulled her eyes away from Kyle’s gaze and nodded, hurrying past.
“Probably trying to keep all those uncomfortable patients tired,” he’d continued as she scurried off, “All that pain. All that discomfort. And all in one place.”
Pushing through the coldness and dizziness, Estella hadn’t looked back until she was through the hospital doors and in the parking lot. Seeing her in such a state, her mom had demanded to know what was wrong and she had, eager to be rid of the burden on her mind, told of Xander’s stepfather and what he had said.
Her mother had listened, though Estella still believed that she’d never heard a word, and had sighed when she’d finished, “That poor man, he must be so worried. Just imagine what it must be like to have someone you care about in that state: hurt and scared in a hospital room. He’s probably just upset.”
Estella had known, even then, that arguing would be pointless, and she had nodded and apologized for being so rude. Kyle had made one good point in his ranting though, Estella had noticed: the hospital had been filled with the pained, the sick, and the dying. All that fear and sadness must have been what overpowered her heightened receptors of energetic forces. Though for a long time she had wanted to believe that, somehow, Kyle had been responsible for the dizziness and the inescapable cold, the truth was that she had let her guard down and all that pain had gotten in.
She shook her head at her past self.
No, Kyle wasn’t some sort of magic monster. He was just an everyday monster preying on his stepson. But Estella hadn’t seen that until later.
Until it was too late.
It had been the night of Xander’s mother’s death that she had seen Kyle for the monster he was. Something dark had been in the air that night all those years ago. Something that refused to let Estella sleep for very long, and what sleep she was granted was haunted by shady, grisly images and horrible screams. That night had been the first time she’d cast the spell of Other’s Sight; the first time she’d been able to leave her body in an astral form and see through Xander’s eyes.
It was a spell that had broken her heart twice already.
One that she was about to cast again.
She sighed as she lay down, holding the card across her chest to help direct her emotions and energies in the right direction. She thought for a moment of the past two times she’d cast this spell: once by accident in her dreams and then again to see if her old friend was alright. After the second time Estella had cast the spell and caught Xander in the middle of his suicidal ritual, she had tried to approach him in an attempt to rekindle their lost friendship and give him a sympathetic ear to all the problems that he must have been keeping inside. Before she’d had a chance to finish, however, Xander had begun to storm away. Seeing her chance at redemption slipping away, she’d made one last effort:
“W-what about Kyle?” she’d stammered, “Is he in jai—”
Xander turned so fast that she had come close to falling back; his fury-filled face so close she could feel the heat radiating from him, “Kyle is dead!” he’d spat, his eyes shaking in his rage, “He’s dead,” he repeated, his clenched teeth turning his words into a growl, “and that’s the only good thing he’s ever done with his life!”
After that day, Estella had realized that nothing could be done to reverse the damage and stopped trying to talk to Xander for his sake. Despite this, she’d never stopped caring for him, which was why, once again, despite all the previous times she’d done it, she was going to cast Other’s Sight on him again.
She carried this final sentiment with her as the emotions became a warm energy that she held tightly to and wrapped around herself. She concentrated on Xander, fighting away any other memories that would distract her. She envisioned his face and was saddened that the only images she could pull up were ones of him either upset or hurt. Shaking off the inhibiting emotion, she allowed herself to further fall into a comfortable trance, imagining herself as lighter than air as she mouthed Xander’s name over and over like an obsessed lover in an attempt to keep herself focused.
“Xander Stryker… Xander Stryker…”
A light pull tugged at her that she had come to associate with her mind separating from the solid world and her sight began to fade. Ignoring her blindness, she focused harder, pushing forth an energetic zip-line that was meant to latch onto Xander’s mind, but it couldn’t seem to get ahold of anything. Beginning to fear the worst as her efforts to connect with his mind were met again and again with failure, she doubled her efforts.
Had he actually been caught in that fire?
Or, worse yet, had he finally killed himself?
“Xander Stryker! Xander Stryker!” her distant voice echoed within her.
And then she felt it! A sudden connection on the other side and a blurred scene appeared before her as she entered Xander’s mind.
Casting the Other’s Sight spell usually meant a front-row seat to the sights, sounds, smells, thoughts and sensations of whoever the spell had been cast on. Usually, these senses came in crisp and clear, so much so that the second time Estella had cast it on Xander it had taken her hours to convince herself it hadn’t been her own hand on the trigger.
This time, however, was different.
Rather than a clear view she was instead treated to a shaky and distorted show that kicked in and out of focus. One moment, she was looking at what appeared to be a bloody corpse and feeling horrible sorrow and fury and the next she was b
lind, left only with the lingering rage.
Was this truly Xander?
The rage felt familiar, but something was different about whoever she had connected to…
Sight returned then: a shaky rollercoaster ride ending face to face with a white tiger and a feeling of relief, then darkness again. Estella fought to strengthen the connection and was rewarded with several voices in the darkness accompanied by a murderous need and a powerful thirst.
There was a scream then, and a nanosecond later her vision was filled with a man’s face—pudgy and smeared with blood—as he screamed in horror and agony. The hunger grew more intense as Estella watched the blood seeping from the man and somewhere in the distance she felt her body, still lying in the bed, shudder with disgust.
But it smelled so good!
And she was so hungry!
She stopped herself. She needed to remember that she was riding someone else’s experiences and that she could not allow herself to slip again and believe that she was them. The image flashed and grayed before wavering and cutting out again, but the rage and hunger stayed a moment longer before it also disappeared, leaving only the taste of blood.
Though too from her body to experience it firsthand, Estella was aware of her physical reactions; the tossing and turning and violent heaving threatening to sever her hold and drag her back. She worried for a moment that she may have made a mess all over the card and felt herself begin to get dragged back towards her own body and pushed away the thoughts in order to keep herself focused.
“Xander Stryker! Xander Stryker! Xander Stryker!”
The picture returned—this time without any color except for the red blood smeared everywhere. There was another distant heave and Estella tried to keep the reality from her mind as she held her focus. The thought patterns were too familiar for her to be seeing through the eyes of anyone else but Xander, but there were elements that had not been there before, and Estella couldn’t get a complete grip on his mind because of them.
There was a spark of alertness and the view skewed as they turned to face a set of approaching footsteps. When the image was still again, it was fuzzy and blurred and Estella struggled to come back into focus before realizing the blurriness was not a result of a weak connection; it was coming from the other side…
Noir: A Crimson Shadow Novel Page 18