Breathe for Me

by Rhonda Helms

  Is that the only choice for me? Death or enslavement? What kind of a life is this—will I have to kill myself to find peace? Can I even die?

  I stand, legs shaking, stomach twisting. Suddenly I feel like I’m going to vomit. I need fresh air. “I can’t hear any more. I have to go.”

  Aggie stands up quickly and grabs my arm, her grip firm as she stares into my eyes. “Sit down, girl. Let me explain. The Death card isn’t bad, I promise. It just looks that way. Please. Just take a moment and breathe.”

  Reluctantly, I let her guide me back into my seat and draw several deep breaths. She’s right—I can’t overreact like this. I have to stay calm and listen. Letting my emotions take control of me is how I got into this situation.

  “Thank you,” she says as she relinquishes her hold on my arm, then points at the phoenix. “Now, as I was saying, this isn’t a bad card. What do you know about the legend of this bird?”

  “It dies in fire and is born out of the ashes,” Dominic says, his voice strangely hushed.

  Aggie nods, pleased. “That’s right. This card is about closing the door to the past and opening the door to the future. It’s about the dying to the old and living in the new. Rebirth. Becoming new again. Fire burns and kills, yes, but it also purifies.” She turns her attention to me. “No more enslavement. That’s what this card tells me. Freedom. New paths.”

  The small inch of hope that had set up residence in my chest from earlier flares up again, lights my heart on fire with the promise in her words. Is it true? Can I, like the phoenix, be reborn into a new life—not continuing the cycle of pain and agony, but once and for all ending Sitri’s hold over me?

  I look between the two future cards. Devil. Death.

  One way or another, I’ll end this.

  Aggie leans back in her seat, shuffles my cards into her deck. “And now, my dear boy, it’s your turn.”

  chapter ten

  DOMINIC’S LIPS PINCH TOGETHER, and he nods. After a moment, he says, “I’m ready.”

  Aggie gives a small, comforting smile. “Okay, cut the deck.”

  He does so, three times as she commands.

  After shuffling the deck once again, she flips the top card over. It shows a striking boy with a glowing cup. “Page of cups.” Her eyes are shrewd as she looks him over. “You’re a romantic at heart, aren’t ya? This world was so noisy for you in your past, and you sought to escape into its quieter beauty.” She casts a quick glance at me. “This boy is truly sentimental. A rare find.”

  I think of the book of Christina Rossetti poems he bought me and nod at Aggie’s words, squeezing Dominic’s hand, daring a look at him. His gaze skitters away from mine as a dark flush works its way across his cheeks. And that makes me love him even more.

  I love him. I know this truly, completely, as surely as I know my name, my past. The sudden unexpected rush of emotion floods me. I want to hold him, kiss him, be with him.

  Dominic glances at me, his eyes a bottomless pool of depth. He has to see the emotion on my face. He must know how I feel. And it scares me that he may be feeling it too. There’s something so strong yet strangely fragile between us. What I would give for just one real touch of his bare skin on mine without him burning. Flesh upon flesh.

  I ache with desire.

  Not here, Isabel. Forcing my eyes away, I face forward again, drawing in several quiet breaths. My cheeks burn from the transparency of my feelings.

  Aggie’s eyes shift back and forth between the two of us. She remains silent, giving me a moment to compose myself. To pull my emotions back in. Then she nods. “You ready for the present card, Dominic?”

  “I am.” His voice is steady, confident. His thumb strokes rhythmically across the top of my hand. My sweet, dependable Dominic. I wish I had even half of his strength. A quarter of it.

  Aggie flips over the next card on the deck. The woman glows with beauty. “The queen of pentacles. You are the very idea of trustworthiness and reliability.”

  A fresh smattering of goosebumps breaks out across my skin. Her words are similar to my thoughts from just a moment ago.

  She leans toward Dominic, excitement pouring from her, her words spilling out fast. “You want to care for her, I know. She’s the one your heart calls out to, isn’t she? In your eyes, you’re her protector. Her savior, even.” She pauses. “Just be careful you don’t get hurt in the process. You can’t save everyone.”

  “I don’t need to,” he says, running his free hand through his hair. “And she doesn’t need me to save her.” His gaze turns back to me, pierces me through. “She can save herself. I just need her to trust in me.”

  His words remind me of my silent promise to Jane last night, how I would try to trust him. He has no idea how badly I want to. But the devil card taunts me. The devil himself taunts me. What if I fail? What if Sitri won’t listen to me, won’t let me break free of the curse?

  Aggie flips over the last card. It’s a man, dangling upside down from a dry, leafless tree. “The hanged man,” she says slowly. Her eyes soften as she looks at me, then Dominic. “Boy, you’re gonna have to let go. You can’t control the future. And the only way you’ll get the right perspective is to surrender to what’s happening.” She stares hard at the card for a few seconds. “It’s fighting your innate nature to want to control, to fix. To make things right.”

  He nods.

  Aggie blinks and shuffles the cards back together again. She looks at Dominic, at me, then at the top of the deck of cards. “Sacrifice.”

  That word again. My stomach twists. “What do you mean?” I demand. “What sacrifice?”

  She shakes her head sadly. “I wish I knew. I can’t see that right now. All I know is, there’s a great cost for whatever it is you seek.”

  Dominic pulls the car across the street from my building. We idle in silence for several long minutes, lengthening the uneasy quiet that started when we left Aggie.

  “Are we going to talk about all of this yet?” he finally asks. “Because I’m starting to believe what you told me, and I don’t know what to do. How can we break your curse? Have you done any research on it?”

  “Of course I have,” I say, hearing the defensiveness in my tone. But how could he know what I’ve done? I force myself to relax the tension between my shoulders. “Dominic, I’m glad you believe me, but I don’t think it’s a good idea for you to get involved in this. Sitri’s not the easiest to deal with on a good day. I’m still trying to figure out the best way to approach him so I don’t make him mad.”

  “I’m not afraid of him.”

  “Well, you should be. And I just can’t risk it.”

  He’s silent for a long moment. “So…I’m supposed to just sit by and hope you break the curse before you leave New Orleans for good?” There’s an edge to his voice that surprises me.

  “I know it’s not ideal, but it’s safer—”

  He turns to me, his eyes distant. Shuttered. That look stops me mid-sentence. “I don’t understand what’s happening with us. You seem to pull me close just as often as you push me away, and it hurts. You tell me this…impossible story about your past, and just when I start to believe it and want to help you, you shove me away again. How am I supposed to deal with all of this?”

  “I don’t blame you for being mad, because I know I look really wishy-washy and I hate that. I—I’m just so scared of you getting hurt in all of this,” I choke out. I turn my eyes to my lap and blink rapidly, swiping a hand across my eyes. “You don’t know what kind of evil he’s capable of. I do. I’m living proof of it.” A shaky breath huffs out my lips, then another.

  Before I realize what’s happening, he’s reaching across the seat, drawing me into his arms, gingerly stroking the ends of my hair. “Shh,” he whispers, his voice uneven, slightly hitching. “I can’t stand to see you upset.”

  I press my face against his warm chest and struggle to regain control over my emotions. “I’m so sorry,” I say again, my voice quiet. “I didn’t mean to h
urt your feelings or push you away. It’s because I want you to be safe, not because I don’t care about you.”

  Drawing a slow, shaky breath, I smell Dominic’s light cologne lingering on the fabric of his shirt. Everything about him is warm and delicious, and I’m suddenly flooded with the urge to kiss him. God, how I want to kiss him.

  He tugs his hand into his sleeve and using his covered fingers he draws my chin up, makes me look into his eyes. There’s a gentle smile spreading across his face. “I care about you too. You’re amazingly smart and witty. You have a big heart and feel deeply for others. And I want you to be safe—you’re not in this alone. I’m going to help you, no matter what it takes.”

  “Thanks.” I give him an earnest smile.

  “Now, you need to get upstairs. I’m pretty sure you have our poem to work on,” he teases. He gets out, goes around the car to open my door, tugs me out and holds me for a long moment against his body, then releases me. “Try to let all of this go for a little bit, okay? We’ll work it out, together. I promise.”

  “So…so you do believe me?” I bite my lower lip. “I know this is all so farfetched, but—”

  “I know,” he says. “And yes, I do.”

  Simple words, but they soften the ache in my chest. “Thank you.”

  He rests his cheek against my crown, careful as always not to let his skin touch mine. Though it’s on top of my hair, the power of that gesture sends a shiver across my skin. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

  With that, he scoots back over to his side, giving me one last wave as he pulls his car into traffic.

  I stand there for a moment, then head across the street to my apartment. He’s right—I do need to focus. Dissolving into a mess and losing control of my emotions isn’t going to do anything but eat away at my precious time. I’m going to go upstairs and start the first stanza of our poem, because he’s depending on me.

  Because I’m depending on me.

  Drawing in a heady breath as I pass through the courtyard garden, I make my way up the stairs and key the door. I reach out to turn the knob, but the door flies open.

  Sitri’s face greets me. His grey eyes are icy as usual, and he has one eyebrow raised as he blocks my entrance into the apartment. “Out late on a school night, aren’t we?”

  Did he see me with Dominic? My heart thuds in sudden panic.

  Don’t give anything important away. “I went to see a friend at a voodoo shop in the French Quarter,” I say. “The owner likes me to visit.” Half-truths—if Sitri forces me to lie to others because of this curse, he can get lies in return. I straighten my back and give him a pointed look. “Excuse me. I’d like to come in, if you don’t mind.”

  He sweeps the door open and gestures broadly. The grin on his face widens. If I didn’t know better, I could almost think him handsome. He’s wearing all black, his muscled figure trim and lean beneath the fabric. “Oh, by all means.” He lets me pass, not touching me.

  I raise my head and walk by, dropping my purse onto the couch and heading into the kitchen. I open the fridge door and reach in to get a soda.

  “So, who drove you to the French Quarter?” Sitri asks, which stops me in my tracks. His voice is too even, too deliberate in its delivery.

  And in that moment I know that he saw Dominic. Probably saw us hugging, me in his arms. The thought of Sitri watching that private, intimate encounter makes me angry.

  The surge of quiet fury boils my blood, and I clench my fists, closing the fridge. “A friend,” I say flatly as I try to keep the hostility out of my voice.

  Sitri steps close to me, reaches out to caress one of my curls. His eyes lock with mine, and I’m unable to look away. “Just a friend?” he says smoothly, his eyes now swirling dark as he stares at me. “You wouldn’t lie to me, would you, Isabel?” He slips his hand through the back of my hair and grabs tightly, causing a burning pain in my scalp.

  My resentment slides away, replaced by the icy chill of fear. “I don’t want to do this,” I whisper.

  He leans in, his face so close to mine that I can see flickering flecks of red in his pupils. He’s angry with me. “Don’t want to do what?”

  I swallow. Don’t be afraid. “I don’t want this curse anymore, Sitri. I want to be free.”

  He thins his lips. His grip tightens in my hair, bringing a fresh wave of pain. Tears burn the backs of my eyes, and I blink rapidly to fight them back.

  “Curse?” he spits out, narrowing his eyes. “How dare you. You wanted to escape. Begged me for it. I gave you everything you asked for—freedom, travel, independence—and now you throw my gift in my face.”

  He releases my hair and grabs my upper arm, pulling me out onto the balcony. With a slender finger he points down at the street, where a small group of people stroll by at a leisurely pace. They talk quietly amongst themselves, completely oblivious to the threat just two stories above them.

  “Look at them,” Sitri continues. Scorn pours from his voice. “How many of these people can say they’ve had the opportunities you have? That old lady is just a week from death, and she probably doesn’t know it. But you do.” He turns to me and tugs me close, pressing his lips against mine. The sudden contact shocks me immobile—he hasn’t kissed me before. “You’ll never be like them again. You’ll never die.”

  He slides his lips against my cheek, my brow. I want to pull away, but I’m too afraid to make him mad. He knows he has control—and for that, I’m angry with myself. What happened to my big bravado from earlier, my resolve?

  After what feels like centuries, he finally lets me go.

  The instant he does so, I step back, my body shaking with fear, disgust, anger. “Why are you doing this to me?”

  For the briefest of moments, pain flashes across his face. “Because I want…” He stops, his gaze canvassing the street. “You’re different than the others. Those people out there live their mundane lives. They float by in a shell of an existence.” He looks at me, and there’s a strange vulnerability there that reminds me of how he was in the sculpture garden. He’s sincere in his sentiments. “I watch people live and die, their lives a blink, shooting stars burning out in a flash. They don’t understand the burden of living forever. You and I have both fallen, both made deals we didn’t understand at first. And now we live with the consequences. In the end, we only have each other.”

  If I didn’t know better, I’d think he actually has feelings for me. But he’s a demon, a soulless bastard who trapped me when I was at my weakest. And he doesn’t want to let me go. That makes me a plaything to him, a toy.

  “Haven’t we been through this long enough?” I ask, letting the raw emotion pour from my voice. I have to make him see. “I’m so tired of this. I don’t want this…gift anymore. I want to be human again.” I sigh, then turn my gaze back to the people on the street. I want to be like them, innocent and happy and free.

  Sitri’s quiet for several minutes. I can feel his gaze caressing my face. “But you’re not human. You’re like me now—immortal. Eternal.” He pauses. “I’ll never let you go, Isabel. You’re mine.”

  chapter eleven

  AFTER SITRI LEAVES, I collapse onto the couch, drawing long, deep breaths for several minutes until my pulse returns to normal. My cell buzzes from an incoming text, but I ignore it. Instead, I grab my poetry journal and write; I need to let all the anger and frustration about Sitri pour through my pen onto the paper:

  He will not take steal away my breath, taste, sight.

  I stand at the mountain’s edge edge of the cliff and peer

  Into the chasm, gouged by the earth.

  My body drops like rain.

  Bones scream out of my skin, gasp for air,

  but I am not dead.

  I am not powerless.

  I will swallow his air breath with my hands.

  My fingers will singe his flesh.

  I knit my bones together, salve my heart skin—

  I will feel again.

  I close the notebook
and thrust it and the pen onto the coffee table, drained but slightly less angry. My tolerance for Sitri is disappearing fast, and I don’t want to be civil with him anymore, no matter what benefits there are to the curse. It’s still binding me, making me his slave.

  His words from earlier echo through my mind. I’m supposed to be grateful? He’s tried to make me more like him—alone. Bitter. Alienated. But is it really fair for me to completely blame him? It was my weakness, my hasty decision that put me here in the first place. I shoulder part of that responsibility. And now it’s up to me to find my way out.

  I lean back on the couch and close my eyes. Imagining what life would be like without him. Having the freedom to hug Samantha without fear of burning her. The freedom to reach out and touch Dominic’s face with my bare fingers. To not cover my body just to be in public. To be kissed…

  If I can escape this curse—I have to escape this curse—I’ll never again take my humanity for granted. I’ll never again underappreciate the value of life. Its beauty is all the more sweet when allowed to be mysterious. Not knowing when people are going to draw their last breaths would be such a gift.

  My phone vibrates again. There are two texts from Samantha:

  OMG have to talk to u.

  U there?

  I text back, What’s up?

  A moment later, she replies, Have to talk to u!! Can I come over?

  My initial thought is to say no, to retreat into my shell and continue to process my feelings by myself. But Samantha is my best friend. Jane would tell me to stop closing up and be a friend to Samantha, who deserves my attention, my time. She probably has some good news about Rick, and I want to share as many of these important moments with her as I can.

  If it were up to Sitri, there won’t be many more of these.

  I shove that thought from my head and text back, Yes, come over!:-) Sitri’s done with me for the day—he made his point. He’ll leave me alone.

  Then, I go into the kitchen, grab another soda and try to find my smile again before my best friend arrives.