by Valia Lind
"Listen," I try again, my voice coming out soothing, but I do take a step back to put some distance between us. "I have no idea what you're talking about. If you'll just let me go, I can find someone who lives in this house, I'm sure they'll be happy to show you where whatever you’re looking for is."
"Do not lie, Protector!” the stranger booms, shaking the floor I’m standing on with just his voice. “This house has no wards, no majyk. You would not be so careless to leave the relic here." I move a bit farther back, putting the bed between us.
"You guys have had a little too much to drink." I say, because I can’t even fathom this being my reality right now. With every word, my mind shouts at me that this is not a joke. These...things...are here to hurt me. I can’t constitute them as men any longer, as their faces continue to ripple in an otherworldly way, each time they breathe.
"Enough!" the man who was already in the room bellows, speaking up for the first time. "Do not play games, Protector. Tell us where it is and we kill you fast. Lie to us, and we kill you slow. Then, we kill all humans in this house."
The man takes a step toward me and suddenly, there is a sword in front of my face. I jump as it manifests itself in his hand, my own hands flying over my mouth. I don't think I drank anything but soda, so my mind must be playing tricks on me. I swear the man grows in size right before my eyes. He's almost seven feet tall now, towering over my small frame, his face twisting and turning, becoming something other than human. His eyes bulge out, taking over his face, and from what I can see, there seem to be scars all over his skin. As if someone stitched pieces of flesh together. I watch, frozen, as the giant stalks up to me, pinning me against the wall in one breath. I try to struggle, but the hand on my throat is cutting off any circulation.
"Tell me where it is," he growls, the words almost unintelligible with the noise coming from deep within his throat. I try to shake my head, give him some indication that I have no idea what he's talking about, but he growls again and then there is pain.
Excruciating pain.
I feel my blood drip down my arm where his sword tip cuts me and that's when I realize this is no joke. These men—monsters—are here for me and they will kill me if I don't tell them what they want to know. If only I knew what they were asking, but none of this makes sense. I'm gasping for breath, my thoughts a jumbled mess as the pain spreads through my body. He cuts deeper, and any moment he'll scrape the bone, leaving a permanent mark.
I push against the burning sensation spreading up my arm, struggling to breathe as he crushes my windpipe with his gigantic claw. My vision swims before me as I try to focus on his face and there is more distortion than before. It’s as if layers of a mask keep coming off the longer he's around me. I don't understand how my mind manages to catalogue anything through the pain, but I fight it. I fight with my whole being.
An instinct I didn’t know I possessed kicks in, overshadowing the pain. It’s as if a switch has been turned on inside of me and just like that, the pain stops. It becomes manageable. As if, all of a sudden, I can push it back. Get it under control.
There is no time to dwell on the new discovery as the monster drops me to my feet. I land hard, my bones rattling with the impact and I don't see the blow coming. His hand connects with my cheek and I'm on my knees. Tears sting my eyes, but I push them back, just like I'm pushing the pain back. The response is automatic, almost like a reflex. I watch my attacker stalk across the room and I'm on my feet.
Acting on pure instinct, I kick out as the stranger comes barreling toward me, sending him reeling into the bedpost. Surprised my action has the desired affect, I scramble to my feet, but I don't make it far. The door on the other side of the room opens, and a blur of movement catches my attention as the other man comes flying across the room.
I don't wait to see who or what did that, as I turn to the window, push it open and run.
NOW
I hear them coming before they're even in the building. I don't understand how I can tell they're moving closer, but the next second the door bangs open below us and the footsteps echo through the staircase. Brendan is pulling me up the stairs now, rushing to get to the top, and I know I should be afraid, but for some reason I'm not.
There's a familiarity to what’s happening around me, as if I've been here before. As if I've orchestrated it. I shake my head, dispersing the random thoughts, and focus on putting one foot in front of the other.
In the next moment, we've reached the top. We stumble out unto the roof gleaming in the moonlight from the recent rain. That's when I realize something.
"There's nowhere to go," I hiss, pulling on Brendan's arm. "What are you doing?"
"Providing us with an advantage." He replies, and just like with the other men, suddenly a sword materializes in Brendan's hand.
"What the— ?"
I don't get to finish as Brendan pulls another sword out of thin air and thrusts it into my hands. There's a click at the back of my mind at the contact, but I can't wrap my mind around anything long enough to figure out what it means. I take a step back, my body shaking at the sight of the weapon. Brendan positions himself in front of me, the tilt of the blade shining in the moonlight.
"Keep your feet shoulder length apart, grip the bottom with both hands and keep it close to your body from the bottom of your torso to the top of your head." He rattles off the instructions, his eyes firmly on the door.
"You're not serious!" I exclaim, surprised I'm still holding onto the weapon, instead of chucking it across the roof like I feel like doing. "You don't seriously expect me to fight? I've never even held a sword before."
"Yes, you have."
"No, I haven't."
At the panic clearly in my voice, Brendan finally pulls his attention from the door and focuses on me. Just like a dozen times before, there is instant recognition when his gaze lands on me, but I don't dwell on it. If there was ever a time for a brain to overload with the amount of information it’s receiving, now would be the time. I’m honestly surprised I’m still standing.
"Calista, I know none of this makes sense and you're scared. But you've been trained to push those emotions away. I need you to try and remember who you are."
"What does that even mean?" I can't help but exclaim. "Trained? Who I am? I'm a seventeen year old girl who just got attacked at a college party and now I'm holding a freaking sword!” By the end of my little exclamation my voice has risen to a higher octave than ever before, but Brendan isn't fazed. He takes a step toward me, reaching for me with his free hand. When his skin touches mine there is an intense spark of recognition, even stronger than I've felt before.
"You are so much more than you think." He says quietly, and I can hear our pursuers on the stairs, getting closer with every second. "I need you to trust me and fight. Don't push yourself toward your opponent, let them come to you. Your body will remember the rest. But I can't do this alone. I need you to help me protect you."
I stare up at him, trying to find some malice, some kind of dishonesty in his expression, but there's none. I want this to be a cruel joke. I want it to be a crazy dream. But it’s not. He believes every word he's saying and that click I felt at the contact flares up again, shining brighter.
I believe him.
I believe every single word he's saying as the truth.
"If we die, I am so haunting you till eternity past." I grumble, bringing the sword up in front of me like he instructed. The smile that lights up his face at that small gesture is blinding.
"I would expect nothing less."
I don't understand what's going on, but I think I'm about to fight a herd of disfigured dog-people and I hope I survive.
"Cali, just believe—“
Whatever else he may have said is drowned out as the men who attacked me burst through the door. Although I can’t call them men any longer. My eyes zero in on their deformed features, patches of hair growing out of their sewn-together skin and my blood runs cold at the sight. I don’t have a
second to wonder what created these monsters, as they advance on us. Metal clings against metal, Brendan's body a fluid dance of motion as he blocks not one, but two of the strangers. The sound of sword on sword beats to the drum of my heart, keeping time with the motions. I watch, almost mesmerized, the beauty of the movement paralyzing me.
"Cali!"
Brendan's scream snaps me out of my haze just as one of the attackers moves past him and comes toward me. I stare at the figure, unable to move, as he bares down at me, but at the last moment I sidestep him with almost practiced ease.
Having no time to marvel at the fact that I dodged an attack, I swing my sword just as the other swings his. Left, then right, my feet firmly on the ground, I move as if in a trance. He jabs, but I block, my own arm reaching out and the next moment the stranger is on the ground in front of me, his stomach sliced open by my sword.
Yet, I don't stop to think that I've just killed a man. I don't stop to think at all. I shift toward Brendan, my arms moving at their own accord. Left, then right, then left and another one goes down. Before I can get my bearings, I'm grabbed from behind, the sword falling from my grasp. Strong hands wrap around my middle, pinning my arms to the side. The stench of rotting flesh hits me from every direction and I try not to gag. By instinct, I let myself drop into the monster’s grip, and he stumbles under my weight.
Using my attacker’s chest for leverage, I kick out at the one coming at me from the front. The movement drives us to the ground, and I'm in motion as soon as we land. I'm on my hands, kicking out behind me and I feel the instant I connect. Blood rains over me as I flip over, nearly escaping being stomped at. The action drives me to my sword, my arm acting in some rehearsed fashion and the next thing I know, his guts are spilling out in front of me.
I glance down at myself as the last giant falls, my eyes fast on where my hand grips the bottom of the sword. Sometime in the last five minutes, rain has started to fall again and it's getting in my eyes, but I don't push it away. Blood is running down my hands, mixing in with the water, and I watch it make its way down to the rooftop, until I can't see it at all. Panic and shock set in as I realize what I've done and I'm about to collapse when strong arms lift me upright.
"Come on, Calista. We have to move. More are coming and you're in no shape to fight any longer. I need to get you out of here."
"But I—“
"I'll explain everything, but right now, we have to move."
He grabs my hand, taking the sword from my other one and then it's gone. I turn to glance behind me at where the bodies of the monsters I've killed lie, but they are gone too. Just like the sword.
"None of this makes sense," I mumble as the world grows dark.
3
I know I’m dreaming even before my other self makes an appearance. I remember this day, the first day of college. The day I met Brendan. I watch the events of that day play out in front of me like a movie, remembering the first time I’ve felt like an outsider in my own body.
"Are you sure we're heading in the right direction?" my roommate Jemma asked, studying her orientation package and not looking where she's going. I grabbed her elbow, pulling her out of the way of oncoming traffic, just in time.
"Yes. I have a great sense of direction. Also, I studied that packet to death." I replied, excitement bubbling close to the surface as I looked around the place that would be my home for the next four years.
College. It was finally here. There was nothing like the freedom of finally finding out who you were. Maybe I was late to the party, since a lot of people have that down by the end of high school, but it didn’t really matter. I was here and I was going to rock at being a college student. Just like I'd always wanted to.
I heard Jemma’s giggle and turned just in time to see a group of guys walking by us. Having her as a roommate was a dream come true. We clicked the moment she walked into our dorm room. I didn’t click with many people, trust was not easily earned, but she was the first person in a while that walked into my life as if she belonged there. She had a way of making herself belong.
When we finally made it to the auditorium, we were not the last ones there. It looked like there was only about half of the class there, the rest still wandered around, trying to figure out where to go. Jemma and I found a seat somewhere in the middle, and as soon as we were settled she started looking around.
"What are you doing?" I asked, when she kept on turning and twisting every which way.
"Scoping out college boys, of course."
"Of course," I laughed. I wasn’t blind. I've seen quite a few good looking fellas walking around. College sure had a lot to offer.
I continued my own study of the room when I felt the seat next to me shift, as someone took a seat. Even before I faced whoever it was, there was an otherworldly kind of a buzz which ran over my skin. When my eyes met that of my neighbor an alarm sounded inside my head. No, not an alarm. A celebratory trumpet, as if I'd just returned home from months of being gone. So much more than with Jemma, the moment I met his gaze, I was a puzzle piece falling into place.
"Hi, I'm Brendan." He said, those midnight blue eyes fastened on mine, there was a small smile on his lips, as if he wasn’t sure of his welcome, while I tried to shake off the weird sensations rushing over my body.
"Hi!" Jemma called out from beside me, her attention on the boy. "This is Cali. She's usually more talkative than this."
My roommate bumped me with her shoulder, throwing a pointed look my way. But I just couldn’t seem to move past the feeling of familiarity enough to speak. Jemma's elbow connected with my arm once again, and I threw her an annoyed glare, before turning to Brendan.
"Hi, sorry. Coffee hasn't kicked in yet." I tried on a self conscious smile and he seemed satisfied with my answer. He leaned over, extending his hand to Jemma.
"And you are?"
"Jemma," my roommate beamed, shaking his hand. I could see he won serious points with her by that one simple gesture. He turned that brilliant smile on me next, a lot closer than he was before, and it was like seeing the galaxy for the first time. I was only glimpsing a tiny portion of all who he was. Not sure why my mind was coming up with these assessments, but it was spewing off all kinds of information I wasn’t usually thinking.
"It was a pleasure to meet you, ladies," Brendan said, but he was looking at me. If I was anybody else, I would be a puddle of feelings on the floor. However, my ice walls were just barely melting, but melting they were.
"You too." I managed to reply and that seemed to satisfy whatever Brendan was looking for, because with my words, he stood.
"Aren't you staying?" I blurted out, because a huge part of me wanted him to do just that. I almost berated myself silently, but kept my face neutral.
"Not my scene, really. It was two years ago, when I was a freshman. See you later." He threw a wink our way and disappeared into the oncoming traffic of people. I tried to follow his movements, but he was already gone.
"Wow, Cali. An upperclassman just snuck into the freshmen orientation assembly to meet you. Impressive."
I didn’t reply, but I had to agree. Brendan was all kinds of impressive.
Even before I'm fully conscious, I know I'm laying on something comfortable. Opening my eyes, I find Brendan's face inches from mine. The memory of that first meeting and the feeling that follows are not diminished, even after all this time. He’s still as familiar as my own reflection. His gaze is full of concern and something else my mushed up brain can't register. I stare at him, wondering if I'm still dreaming and then I realize I'm not. At the same moment, the memories of what happened come rushing back at me and I scramble to sit up.
"Easy does it," Brendan reaches over, steading me as I try to keep myself from swaying. I take in my surroundings, finding myself in a small motel room. I'm laying on the only bed, with a table to my right and a TV stand directly in front of me. The paint looks dirty and old, the dim lighting making everything seem that much creepier. My head is reeling, bu
t I push the nausea away and turn my focus to the boy in front of me.
"What happened? Where am I? What were those things? And you...what are you?" The questions tumble out of me as if no longer contained. I try to stay upright, but it's harder than it should be.
"I said take it easy," Brendan repeats as I push at him to get out of the bed. Gently, he urges me to a fully sitting position, my skirt pulling around my thighs. My skin is dotted with goosebumps from the cold air moving through the room and I'm shivering. Brendan's arms come around me and with his help, I swing my legs over the bed, finally sitting up. Tugging at my skirt and hoping to regain some concept of modesty, I drop my gaze and focus on something besides the feel of his skin on mine. He waits for a moment, then takes a seat beside me.
"How's the head?"
"Heavy?"
"Are you asking me or telling me?"
I manage to glare at him and that seems to pacify him for the moment. Rolling my head to the side to relieve some of the tension, I try to wrap my mind around what happened. Being attacked is not something I'm accustomed to, and moreover, fighting is not something I've ever done before. Let alone with a sword almost the size of my torso.
"Is there anything you'd like to tell me?" I ask, not turning my head from where I'm staring at the wall. I realize that he didn't bother answering my questions and it seems to be the standard when it comes to our interactions. He's always unnerved me in the strangest ways. Since the moment we met, there was something about him that I couldn’t quite understand. He's like a memory I didn't know I forgot. Or an old jewelry box I picked up on a whim and after taking a peak inside, found my favorite necklace. He was never a stranger, like he should've been. Now, I'm in a motel room with the very enigma that has invaded my dreams for weeks.
I move to stand, but don't make it far before his hands are on me again. This time landing on my thighs. I freeze at the heated contact and then I'm across the room in a flash without knowing how I got there. My mind must be more jumbled than I realize if I can't even take three steps without forgetting about it. I grip the only chair in the room, turning to glare at the boy who brought me here. I push the weird sensations aside and focus on the problem at hand.