by Brindi Quinn
I’m not above begging. “Let me talk to Pine,” I say, staring straight ahead. “Please, Minx.”
Minx’s nails dig into my shoulders. His voice turns vicious in my ear. “What’s so great about him, huh?”
“I don’t know,” I admit. “I can’t explain it. I’m not usually like this, I swear. If anything, I’m the opposite. Those clingy types disgust me. It’s like, get a life, am I right?” I laugh unstably. “But for some reason, Minx, the thought of not seeing him again makes me ache. It’s not normal. There’s something wrong with me. Maybe it’s because he basically rejected me without a second thought, but . . .”
This time my drifting hand finds my mouth.
Rejected?
No, his kiss savored me.
When I confessed my extreme like for him, it felt right. And then he kissed me in that way, and it felt even more right. Like nothing’s ever been more right.
Minx’s hands slip from my shoulders to my eyes. He covers them, like he covered them on the first day of my death. “I know what your heart really desires, Marley,” he says into my hair. “Come with me. I’ll give it to you.” He nips the top of my ear. “Tick. Tick. Tick.”
That’s right!
The tick! The one at the back of my skull.
Acknowledging it ushers in a sweep of questions.
My supposed wretched life.
My extra thick mana.
My growing, desperate fondness for Pine.
Milo’s parents.
The aquarium.
“Take me there, Minx,” I whisper. “The fish prison. Now.”
~ #1997, Zae ~
Chapter 11: Uncorked
The blue glow of the aquarium is just as disorienting as it was the first time around. Bulged-eyed fish wiggle by over our heads like something straight out of a steam-and-lasers, sci-fi space movie. When you really stare at them, fish are really quite unearthly. It wouldn’t surprise me if there were at least a few aliens snuck in with the rest of them. Actually, it’d be the perfect hiding spot for them. Attention, government: I believe this aquarium to be housing beings extraterrestrial in nature!
Hah. That seems like the sort of call my friend Carmen and I would make.
If I was still alive, that is.
A gray one to the right looks to have an abnormally large brain under its fishy flesh. Eighty-four percent chance that one’s an undercover alien. I cringe at it before closing my eyes. The air is sickly warm, made even warmer by Minx’s breath in my hair as he whisks me at reaper’s speed through the exhibits.
He holds me snugly, with one arm across my collar, the other hand pressed against my belly. I’m not sure how he moves so fast. I’m guessing his feet are hovering over the ground somehow. It wouldn’t surprise me. There’s no telling what kinds of things nether-powers can accomplish.
Like when Pine took me down the mountain.
Or when we went skydiving into that pool.
Or when he forced my soul back into my after-body.
My stomach topples. Lame. My insides keep doing weird circus tricks whenever I think about him.
It’s like the slow-mo moment at the top of a rollercoaster before the plunge, or when you run into your crush at the coffee shop. I’m giddy or something.
One giddy ghost, coming right up.
Whoops. I meant spirit.
The tick at the back of my skull protests.
After a few more minutes of blur, Minx stops and release me. I open my eyes. The starfish pool. The dolphin tank. The cheesy cardboard cutout.
I point at it. “Hey, Minx. Wanna get a picture?”
He cocks his head to the side. A confused puppy.
“Kidding,” I say.
“Oh.”
I walk to the starfish pool. Leaning over the edge reveals a tiny world of wiggly anemone arms and prickly-backed starfish clinging to clumps of colorful coral. I squint at them.
A twinge, huh?
I don’t get it.
But I really wish I could hold Pine down and force him to look at them. Again, my heart thuds. What the HELL, Marley Craw!? You’re losing it. Totally.
“What now?” I ask, turning away from the pool and resting my back on the rocky holding tank.
Minx’s red eyes reflect the blue glow, glowing purple themselves. “That’s up to you, Marley,” he says. “For starters, come over here and tell me what you desire.” He opens his arms wide to me.
I take in a deep breath. The air feels so weighted. Was it like this the first time we passed through?
Back when it was me and Minx and . . .
Pine.
My heart kicks.
“Something’s wrong with me, Minx. I can’t stop thinking about him,” I whisper.
Eyes aglow, the corner of Minx’s mouth scowls menacingly for a brief second before turning soft and downturned once more. His arms remain open to me. “You might think you desire him, but I know something you desire more; and now, with him gone, I can finally give it to you.” His eyebrows dip with sympathy. “I alone understand why you’d want to. I alone understand your tick, and that’s why–”
A hungry look – ravenous, even – invades the soothing reaper’s face.
“The one to claim your soul, Marley Craw, will be me.”
Claim.
The name of the game.
I don’t understand anything about anything, really. But apparently, my legs know something they’re not telling me. In a zombie stagger, they move toward Minx. With his hood up like that, he looks even more . . .
Dangerous.
Minx is dangerous.
Pine warned me of it, but Pine’s no longer around, and for some reason, I know that if I just understand more about my life and death and reaping, I’ll understand why I want to be with Pine so badly.
Timidly, I approach.
“Tick, tick, tick,” says Minx, voice oddly light, head jerking in a weird way.
Tick, tick, tick.
I reach him and he throws his arms around me in a bear hug, forcing my face into the zipper of his hoodie. “I know that tick, Mar-mar,” he says softly, into my ear. “I know it better than anyone. That’s why I’ll give you a choice.” He squeezes me tighter. “You can rest with me, here, forever. Or–” He thrusts me away from himself, holding me at arms length.
“O-or?” I say, losing all nerve.
He places his knuckle beneath my chin and tips my face to his. “You can let me satisfy your tick.”
“How?” I ask.
“Let me remove the seal.”
I don’t know what it means, but at the suggestion, the tick at the back of my skull acts up, throbbing uncontrollably. By heartbeat races. My breath grows hot.
“Is it wrong to do that?” I mouth, breathless.
In a flash, Minx changes. His mouth grins – darkly, mischievously, almost wickedly. “Mm,” he says, with a nod.
The world falls quiet, except for the hum of the tanks.
Minx’s dark wickedness remains, but it mixes with darkness of a different kind. Temptingly, seductively, he looks through his white lashes at my mouth.
“I understand why you’d want to anyway, though. You had such a wretched life.”
But my life wasn’t wretched. I had Carmen and the others, and this weekend I was finally going to let that Russia-obsessed cutie, Noah Carmichael, kiss me! Finally, I was going to . . .
Something wet falls down my cheeks.
Oh. I’m crying again?
“Your soul is screaming, Marley Craw. Screaming.” Minx slides one of his hands to my chest. Upon contact, his eyelids flutter. He throws his head back and lets out a moan. “It’s the loudest I’ve ever heard. Let me make it even louder, all right?”
“W-what about your parole?”
Minx laughs lightly. “That guy’s not around to report me. We’re safe.”
Safe. Riiight. It’s obvious that we’re so NOT safe! My shoulders are shaking, now, because I’m afraid of him. Because I know this isn’t even remotely a safe place to
be.
And at the same time, I want to be here.
Death has made me a mess.
The dangerous reaper snaps his head up again, causing his hood to fall off. His hair settles around his neck innocently, but his expression is far from innocent. “You’ll let me, won’t you, Marley? You’ll let me help you?”
Tears continue to rush from my eyes, dripping down by face and chin, but I’m too stuck to wipe them away. Something is wrong. This place. The aquarium.
Why did I want to come here, again?
Oh yeah.
That carving Carmen and I made of our names – it should be just over there on the back of the concession stand, beneath those sweating pretzels.
“That’s right, Marley,” Minx whispers, eyes wide. “Think about that. Think about your life.”
But . . . I thought I wasn’t allowed to think about anything but them.
“Think about it,” Minx orders.
I . . .
It’s getting harder to breathe now, with salty tears rolling down my face and my heart beating in my throat, wedged in my airway.
Minx again takes to watching my mouth. “Have you made your choice?” he asks, hungrily. “Will you rest with me, or will you let me remove the seal.”
I don’t know. I don’t know anything! Everything is pressurized, and I can’t move, and my tears won’t stop!
GET A GRIP, MARLEY CRAW!
Tick.
“R . . . remove it.”
Minx is on me before I even finish the words. His mouth eats them away, and then begins to move with mine. His nails dig into my skin as he kisses me brutally, biting and forcing, before pulling away and flinging me towards the concession stand. Quick as a shot of brandy, he’s over me again. I’m his prey. He’s a hunter, a vampire, a killer.
I’m as sure of it as I’ve ever been of anything:
If I let him, he’s going to consume me.
He presses me against the counter, puts his hand to my chest and orders, “Say my name.”
“M-Minx,” I say, downright quivering.
His eyes glow. “Again.”
“Minx.”
His eyes sear. “Again.”
“Minx.”
His eyes burn brighter than I’ve ever seen them burn. “Ah!” He releases a gasp, and from his hand on my chest, a blue light forms. A blue nether-glow rises between us.
Something inside me wrongs.
“Wait–!”
I start to protest, but Minx puts a hand over my mouth. “You already made your choice, Marley Craw. Be quiet and let me help you.” With a clawing hand, he grabs the top of my dress and pulls until it tears, revealing my bra underneath.
No. This is too much like that time. This is too much like the day I died.
“AAAAAAAAAH!”
A scream erupts in the air. My scream. My most desperate scream ever.
Minx ignores it. Expression dark, he puts his palm to the space between my breasts and the blue glow brightens. Brighter. Brighter. BRIGHTER.
“Is it okay if I sit here?” A pretty girl with chestnut hair and bright eyes plops her lunch tray down on the opposite side of the table. “I don’t really know anyone. All of my friends have 4th-period lunch.”
Liar.
Beyotch.
I saw her five minutes ago, chatting up a group of athletic-types in the lunch line. She’s only making up an excuse to sit by me because she feels sorry for me. Like the rest of the maggots in this school
“Sit wherever you want. I don’t give a damn.”
The girl laughs. “Yeah, I heard you swore like that right in front of Mrs. Iverson today.” She gives me a thumbs up. “Good work. That lady’s a crabapple. My mom says she’s sexually repressed.”
Whatever that means.
“My name is Carmen,” the girl goes on, poking at her pile of spaghetti. Nasty. It looks like intestines.
The girl, Carmen or whoever, makes a face. “Is this even food?” she asks.
I snort.
Whoops.
I told myself I wouldn’t get chummy with any of the locals.
“You’re Marley, right? Marley Craw?”
“So?” I ask, annoyed.
“I heard you’re Milo Craw’s cousin. What’s it like living with a vampire?”
“Vampire?”
“Well, yeah. He’s so pale and stuff. Everyone says his mom feeds him blood for dinner.”
I snort again.
Double whoops.
“She feeds him meatloaf for dinner usually,” I say, covering. “How do you know Milo anyway? He’s in high school. I wasn’t aware he mingled with the sevies.”
Carmen wrinkles her forehead. “Sevies?”
“That’s what we called seventh graders at my old school,” I explain, flicking my hair. It’s kind of nice to know something this girl doesn’t.
“Cool.” Carmen shows a doofy smile. “So you and me, we’re sevies?”
“We’re in seventh grade, aren’t we?” I ask, brow raised.
“I like it.” Carmen squashes a meatball flat with her fork. “It sounds like a code. Is it okay if I tell my other friends that we’re sevies?”
“Do whatever the heck you want.”
“Thanks!”
I let out a sigh. If she’s going to stick around I guess I could humor her awhile. “So . . . you ever heard of JTT?” I ask.
“Who?”
“Psh. Jonathan Taylor THOMAS. I guess you haven’t. He was big in the nineties . . .”
Carmen wrinkles her nose. “The nineties?”
I flip my hair. “Yeah, the NINETIES. Got a problem? My older sister showed me a picture of him, and I practically fell in love, so I’ve been collecting old posters of him ever since. Actually, that Noah Carmichael kid kind of looks like him. . . . Anyway, don’t you know that cuteness never fades? I also have a major crush on JFK.”
The girl blinks at me.
“You know, the PRESIDENT?”
“He’s dead.”
I shrug. “So?”
The girl giggles and continues to poke at her plate of slop. “You know something?” she says shyly. “You aren’t boring like everybody else. I’m really glad you moved here, Marley Craw!”
“. . . Just Marley’s fine.”
Somewhere in the distance I feel Minx kissing my neck. The world spins.
“Right here,” I say, pointing to the bottom of the concession stand. “You go first.”
“Someone will see!”
“Naw, they’re all busy with the dolphins. Personally, I don’t see the big deal. Everyone’s all like ‘Whoa! Flippo did a trick!’ Um, yeah. If you were in a teeny tiny tank all day, I’m sure you’d kill time by learning tricks too! SO not impressed.” I hand her the nail file. “This is important, Carmen. We’re making a pact. A PROMISE.”
Carmen glances over her shoulder at the rest of the maggots pressed up against the glass.
“Okay,” she says with a nod, taking the file. “What’s the pact?”
“The pact is that if one of us dies–”
“Dies?!”
“Dying is normal, Carmen. Everyone dies.” It feels good to say aloud, and at the same time, it hurts to say aloud. I start again, “The pact is that if one of us dies, we’ll come back as a ghost and haunt the other.”
Carmen frowns at the file in her hand. “Are you planning on dying anytime soon?” she asks.
“This is just in case.” I tug on her pigtail. “But I’m serious – if you die, I want you to come back and haunt me like there’s no tomorrow. Dolls getting up and moving around, creepy scratches in the walls, footsteps at the end of my bed – the whole shebang. Are we agreed?”
With a grin, Carmen shakes her head. “You’re so weird, Marley Craw.”
I wink at her. “Just Marley’s fine.”
Minx pulls my dress over my head. His breath exchanges with mine. The world spins.
“You got detention again?” My hermit of a cousin punches me in the arm. “Mom’s
gonna be pissed. Why are you such a failure?”
I punch him back ten times harder. “Why are you such a vampire?” I ask.
“Ow.” Milo rubs his puny arm. I hope it bruises. “What’d you write on that girl’s locker anyway?” he pries.
I fold my arms. “None of your business.”
“If you tell me, I’ll butter Mom up before you give her the note.”
Sounds like a sweet enough deal. I repeat the string of insults I wrote on Amy Jo’s locker in glittery magnet letters.
“You’re demented,” Milo says.
“She deserved it. She said something unforgivable to a boy at school regarding my armpits.”
“Would the boy happen to be named NOAH CARMICHAEL?”
“Shut up!”
Milo releases a sickly laugh. “Marley, Marley, Marley, you better be careful. Boys don’t like delinquents. Pretty sure no guy’s ever gonna like you if all you do is steal and lie and get in trouble. Plus, your hair looks like mud. Ever think about dying it?”
I put my hands over my hair. “Shut up, you pale freak!”
Milo pokes me in the chest. “Who’s the real freak, Marley? If my parents get a divorce it’ll be ALL your fault. Our lives were fine before you and Mallory moved in. I don’t why you couldn’t have gone to live with Grandma. Oh, wait. They were probably worried she’d KILL herself.”
“You’re one to talk,” I spit. “Grandma hates you.”
“Everyone hates YOU, Marley Craw.”
I feel Minx’s skin against my skin. Chest. Waist. Abs. His mouth moves down my exposed stomach. The world spins.
The room smells like plastic and sanitizer. The sheets feel like paper.
I hate hospitals.
There’s a knock on the door.
“Marley?” Carmen pokes her head through the opening. “Amy and I came to visit you. Can we come in?”
They don’t wait for me to answer. Both of them push right on through like they own the place.