Forever Here

by Harold Wall

  Celia swapped a meaningful look with Jo. "Things didn't go well with Sunny, then."

  His dark blue eyes were wounded. "She didn't even notice me."

  She doubted that, somehow. Finn was many things, but subtle was not one of them. "It's her first day, Finn. Maybe she doesn't want guys hitting on her."

  "I wasn't going to hit on her!" he said. Both of them stopped and looked at him. "All right, not much!"

  "Darling, you know what you need to do. Or not do. Don't be a stalker. Nobody wants to date their stalker," Jo said, giving him a prod in the stomach. Sunlight gleamed like fire in

  his hair as they headed outside.

  "Except for Phi," he muttered sulkily.

  "Special case," said the wildcat. "Mostly because he's her soulmate, and you can be excused a little weird behaviour when all your role models enslaved, tortured or imprisoned

  you. And he did actually, you know, die for her."

  "Yeah, well, I don't think it counts if you come back to life."

  Celia swallowed a giggle. There was no reasoning with Finn when he was in one of these moods. He'd snap out of it soon enough. She sat down on the springy grass, stretching out

  in the warmth of autumn. "Finn, will anyone ever be good enough for any of us?"

  "Will Ratner definitely isn't good enough," he said firmly.

  "Good enough for what?" said Riose, joining them. In the distance, she could see Sunny with Nessa and her girls. Lewis was there too, as he generally was, and Mike Stanislov was

  looming over all them all, sandwich in his hand and Sunny in his sights.

  "Celia."

  "Well, we're agreed on that," he said amiably.

  Celia looked from one to the other. "Oh, come on. What's wrong with him?"

  "Anyone who grows up here and manages to miss that half of us aren't human isn't the sharpest tool in the box," proclaimed Finn. "I can't believe you said yes to going with him on

  Friday."

  He looked at Riose for some reason. So Celia did too, but his expression didn't change.

  "He's not the only one!" she protested. "And who says that's a bad thing?"

  "Ryars Valley is dangerous," said Riose flatly. "You know that."

  His gaze skipped to her hand, and she knew he was thinking of the night her fingers had been broken. The night she had become a pawn in a lethal game of chess, fumbling blindly

  across a chequerboard world of light and shadow while around her the inhuman courts waged their violent pitiless war.

  "Not the parts Will lives in," she said quietly.

  His eyes were very intense, the bright blue of aquamarine. "Those parts too. The difference is that he's blind to it. Him and all the other moles." There was a certain thoughtless

  contempt in his voice.

  "A mole? Is this another of those terms you guys don't use around me?"

  There was a very awkward silence that confirmed exactly that. Anger welled up slowly in her. She was so tired of being protected or sheltered or disregarded, whichever they

  thought it was.

  "Explain. Right now."

  "Moles. Humans who choose not to know the truth." His voice was casual. "Blind things, surrounded by darkness, digging their own grave."

  The coldness of it sliced through her. Then anger welled up like blood in a cut. Something must have shown in her face, because Jo and Finn looked at each other and then made

  some ridiculous excuse to disappear. Celia hardly noticed. She faced Riose, fire in her eyes and on her lips.

  "So what is it you want from us humans, exactly? When we know, we're in danger. When we don't know, we're..." A bitter halfsmile twisted her lips. "Vermin."

  She saw the moment it clicked in his head – that moment when she said us humans, and Celia realised he didn't count her in that number. There was a sort of shock that flashed

  through his eyes then was gone. "Be one or the other. But not both. You can't mix those worlds, Cee. You can't dance into his safe, shiny world and pretend not to know. And you

  can't drag him into our world, warm from the sunlight, and then wonder why he starts to feel the cold. Why he starts to fear."

  "I'm not afraid of you," she said quietly.

  "You never were. You don't know how unusual that is. Most kids – they sense something. It's hard to hide when you're younger. We get it wrong. And they know, and they're scared.

  Start looking, Cee. There's a line between us. It's always been there. You just never noticed it."

  "Then why can't I keep crossing it?" she flung back, frustrated and not understanding the ice in him.

  Riose looked at her and his voice was empty as he said, "Because you set the example. You crossed the line, and now so are others. Whoever's doing all this, Cee, they're human.

  And they're here. And they don't think there will be any reprisal because we've broken our own rules. We let you know. And then we let you live."

  "Riose," she said very softly, talking to her friend of ten years, who seemed shut away behind the mask of this bleak stranger, "What are you saying?"

  "It's not just a date, Cee," he said. "It's crossing the line. And right now – right now – every supernatural in this school is watching that line, because someone's telling these people

  what we are. You're already a target for one side. Don't become a target for the other."

  When Arch and the others had approached him between classes, Riose had been incredulous. How on earth could they think Celia had anything to do with the graffiti? It had been in

  her locker too.

  Arch had held up his hands, pacifying. "I'm not saying she's done it deliberately. But she's the only human who knows about us. What if she let something slip accidentally? She's got

  human friends."

  Riose had stared at him. "So have I."

  "We need to know, Riose. This is getting serious." Fury stirred in Arch's eyes like the storm clouds looming on the horizon. "My little sister found that rabbit. She's eight. She cried

  all night. Someone is telling humans what we are."

  "Not Cee."

  "Then who?"

  He didn't have an answer, of course. "I'll talk to her," he said reluctantly. "But it's not her."

  The conversation hadn't gone how he meant it to. It had sounded very logical in his head – there were sides forming, and just for now, Celia needed to show she was on the right

  side. Until it all blew over. But all his logic had become a thorny mess at the mention of Will Ratner, and somehow that had got tangled up with what he was trying to say.

  "I royally screwed that one up," he muttered.

  Arch gave him a tired grin. "Been there, done that. She'll get over it. And if she doesn't..." He gave a lazy shrug. "Maybe that's for the best."

  He wasn't prepared for the anger that boiled into his words. "Best for who, exactly?"

  Not for her. Not for him. There was no one else who knew Celia like he did, who knew exactly how bold and impulsive she could be. No one else who could keep her safe in the murky, treacherous world of predators and sorcery and bloodshed, comprehending as he did the exact depth and darkness of the shadows that he would not allow to touch her.

  And there no one else who called to him like she did. In a world of uncertainty, of shifting loyalties, Celia shone as clear and golden as a pillar of fire. She was so unafraid, and it

  awed him. She spoke her mind, she looked straight into his heart and reminded him who it was he wanted to be.

  "It was a platitude," Arch said dryly. "You know, those things you and Finn kept saying to me after I broke up with Ness."

  Some of his irritation melted away. "Yeah. Sorry."

  "Look, man, if you're really that bothered, give it some time, then grovel. Girls love it when you grovel." He paused. "Except that new chick. She's had guys grovelling all day and

  she looks like she wants to tear someone's head off."

  Riose followed his gaze. Sunny was in the middle of Ness a
nd her friends, whose alwayscrowded table had picked up more than the usual amount of hangerson. She should have

  belonged, another pretty girl in the glossy, bright flock, shiny hair and sharp fashion. But the chatter flashed around her, across her, their friendliness rebounding from her

  shuttered face. She was tense, space either side of her where everyone else was crammed comfortably together.

  He had never seen anyone so lonely in the middle of a crowd.

  "I'd steer clear."

  "I plan to." Arch hesitated. "What is she?"

  He shrugged. "No idea. She's got good wards."

  Arch's look was disbelieving. "You kidding me? Every time I go near her it's like someone's dragging their nails on a chalkboard. Only instead of a chalkboard, it's the inside of my

  skull. You really don't feel it?"

  "Nope. Sure it's not just a cheap charm one of the girls is wearing?"

  "Every shifter I've spoken to feels it. There's something wrong about that girl."

  Weird. But not unheard of. He felt a prickle of interest, the crawling thrill of the hunt. It would be so easy to call a couple of people in the Furies, ask a few questions...find out the

  truth.

  And it seemed he heard Celia in his head. Or maybe it's her first day and she's nervous.

  "You're right," he muttered, and wasn't sure which one of them he had answered.

  spent the rest of the day in a storm of emotion. Her friends left her alone, which suited her just fine. She made it through the afternoon and escaped. There was someone she

  wanted to talk to.

  She found her brotherinlaw tinkering with the engine on a particularly ancient car. His garage was a halfway house between a junkyard and a bachelor pad, but homey touches

  were all around in the easy chair, the framed pictures of his son and the chipped mug that said World's Most Dangerous Dad, which was a joke with an edge.

  By the time she got there, she was more angry than upset, but she kept it under wraps. "Hey, Aspen."

  He didn't look up, dark head bent over mysterious metal things. "Wench! Perfect timing. It's nearly"

  There was a great coughing sound and black smoke puffed from the hood, reeking of oil. He whipped out a wire with an air of triumph.

  "done!" he said, looking very pleased with himself. "Now I just need your help."

  She eyed his hands, smeared grey. "With what?"

  "I'm putting some wards into the car. But the more power you have, the more they sting. I figured you probably won't get more than a static shock."

  Aspen was probably the only mechanic in Ryars Valley who thought nothing of mixing magic and machinery. Once an assassin, vampire and leader of the Furies, he had found his

  soulmate in her practical sister, turned his back on the Nightworld – mostly – and become a vaguely respectable member of society.

  Respectable, but rarely sensible.

  He was so changed from the railthin, wild boy that her sister had brought home one night, Celia could sometimes hardly believe it. When she first met him, she thought he was

  crazy. Only later had she seen what her sister did: his loyalty and his shy kindness.

  "You're warding the car?" she said. "Who's it for?"

  "Your friend Finn. His dad seemed worried he might blow up the car." Aspen grinned. "I thought your mom was overprotective till I met him."

  She snorted. "He's not overprotective. Finn's blown up at least three barbecues I know of, and every time he gets riled, there's a very real chance something will catch fire.

  Occasionally it's him."

  His mismatched eyes, which she could never quite get used to, widened. "Oh. Well, there's not much I can do if he sets the interior on fire, but the engine should be safe." He wiped

  his hands with a rag. "Come here and let's get started. I promised I'd have it ready for Friday."

  Aspen talked her through it, infinitely patient. She lost herself in the task for a little while, and when the last part clicked into place, she felt a little better. Most weekends she spent

  some time here, ostensibly because she wanted to know about cars, but mostly because Zane, Aspen's son and her adopted nephew, was going through a big biting phase, and she

  wasn't too keen on puncture wounds.

  "Great job." Aspen cracked open a can of coke and handed it to her. "So, want to tell me who upset you?"

  "How did you know?"

  "You're here on your own. And given that school only finished ten minutes ago, you set a hell of a pace to get here. So either you're desperate for my company, or you didn't want

  to see any of your friends." He gave her a nudge. "What's happened?"

  "Riose and I had a fight." She felt some of the tension seep out of her with the words. If anyone could help, it was Aspen. He knew exactly how it felt to stand halfway between two

  worlds.

  "About..?"

  "He told me that I couldn't have human friends. It got messy." At his inquiring look, Celia gave him a runthrough of the argument. He listened silently, leaning on the car.

  "He didn't handle that too well," was his first comment. "That the first time you've had this argument?"

  "Yeah."

  "Wow. So let's be clear – you've been friends with a vampire who used to be one of the Furies for over ten years, and this is the first time he's acted like an ass about the whole

  them and us thing?" He waved his hand in a great circle.

  "Yes..."

  "Then this was way overdue. You know how often Tam and I have argued about this?" She shook her head. "Dozens," he announced. "You know what stopped it?"

  She glanced at the wedding ring on his hand. "Getting married?"

  "Hell no! Getting bored. Here's the thing, Cee. He's right." At her indignant look, he held up a finger. "And you're right. There's no easy answer, though you both think there is. We

  are different. You're my little sister by law, and I'd kill for you – but there's a side of me you hardly know. You've seen it, a little, because..." The old pain flashed in his eyes, but

  he carried on. "I'm damaged."

  Sometimes, Aspen had screamed in his sleep. Celia had heard it from her room; she'd heard him crying. When she asked her mother, she'd just said gently that Aspen had some

  bad memories. But he's safe here, she'd said, and her mother had answered, I know. But he doesn't, so we need to help him learn that.

  Aspen had looked astonished the first time Celia had shaken him awake, squished a bear down by him and told him that it would guard him. He's yours, she'd said, and he'd said,

  But what about you?

  I've got a big brother now. You'll have to protect me, she'd told him.

  Me? he'd said, staring at her like she might be lying. When she nodded, he'd looked so proud. Me.

  "Everyone is," she said fiercely, and he cracked a weary grin.

  "I can't pretend the way some of the others can. That darkness...sometimes I control it, and sometimes it controls me. You don't have that in you, Cee. You never look at someone

  else and see prey. See something you can use, you can hurt, because they don't really matter." He sounded desperately sad, desperately ashamed. But he didn't look away from

  her.

  And it struck her that he'd never treated her like she needed to be protected. He didn't shelter her. Aspen told her the truth, in all its grim unvarnished glory, and let her make her

  own choice.

  She owed him the truth in return. "I know it's there. I see it." He flinched, but she pressed on, gentle now. "Every time, every single time, you choose the other way."

  Some of the tension fell away from him. "I do. But that divide is always there. And you know when it gets scary? When kids who've never been anything but the top of the food

  chain are on the other side. Suddenly, you feel what it's like to be hunted, and it makes people behave in weird ways. And it's even worse if someone targets one of your friends


  because of you."

  "He accused me of..." The lump in her throat came back, like a knot of barbed wire.

  "Yeah. I'd be angry too." He took one look at the tear that had escaped her, despite her best efforts, and gave her a hug. "So here's my advice, for what it's worth. Don't be angry

  too long. Don't let some paint and some panic break your friendship. That's what these creepy graffiti people want, so you ram your friendship down their throats and let them

  choke on it."

  She giggled, because it was typically Aspen advice. True, and just a little offbeat.

  "Thanks big bro," she murmured, and his smile lit up, full of all the humanity he didn't believe he had.The

  door slammed like a thunderbolt had hit it.

  As Sunny stormed in, Kurt said calmly, "Good first day, I take it."

  She dumped her bag down as if it was full of bricks. "They're scared of me. Some of them – they turned their backs on me. They ran." Her voice splintered, revealing anguish. "And

  then I had to sit there, feeling what they felt...all that fear and jealousy and need, they need so much. It was so hard not to just...take it all from them."

  She wrapped her arms around herself, looking young and lost.

  "I'd be helping them, really," she muttered. "They can't like feeling that way."

  "Sunshine," he said softly. "They might not, but that doesn't mean you can steal it from them."

  Her head drooped like a snowbell. "It would be easy."

  "Nothing worth having is easy," he said, though the words stung him deeply to say. Most days, his life had the bitter tang of ashes. That was all that was left.

  Sunny looked at him with those eyes as fathomless as the deep ocean abysses. "You think this is worth having? Renna gave her memories to demons and now she doesn't even

  know who you are. I'm...look at me. I'm a monster. And all I can hear is your heart breaking, Kurt, and it makes me hungry. You should have left me there."

  Her skin shimmered like fire moved under it. He felt the heat pouring from her, the choking close embrace of another world, and he didn't flinch. He dared not; one ounce of fear,

  and he'd lose her. They had lost her once, and it had nearly undone them. Twice – he wouldn't let it happen, even though her hair wafted in an unseen breeze, even though the eyes