by Valia Lind
"We're almost there."
I nod, refocusing on the feel of him next to me. It's that reality that's keeping me grounded. If I start thinking about the big men with swords, my body reacts with shakes. I can't let my mind wander. I must keep control of what's happening if I'm getting through this in one piece. We round another corner and I freeze.
"I'm not getting on that." I say, when Brendan stops in front of a red and black motorcycle.
He reaches for a helmet, thrusting it into my hands without a backwards glance. My feet won't move even as Brendan grabs the other helmet for himself and puts the keys in the ignition. He turns then, his eyes steady on mine, waiting for me to move.
"Calista."
"Don't Calista me!" His voice breaks me out of my spell. "That's a—a—“
"A motorcycle?" there's laughter in his voice as I fight the urge to stomp my foot like a little kid.
"Yes," I reply, rolling my eyes. "And I've never ridden one. It's not safe." Now he's outright laughing.
"Cal, we fought off monsters from Shadowlands, not an hour ago, and you're worried about a motorcycle?"
The nickname slams into me like a bullet. No one calls me Cal, but rolling off his lips it sounds familiar and exciting all at the same time. As if he's called me that for a hundred years, and it's like coming home. I must wear some weird expression on my face, because his own softens. He doesn't continue, just waits for me to get oriented.
I take a deep breath, pushing the feelings away for further examination later. Now, I just try not to feel silly, because he made me sound a bit ridiculous, worrying about riding a motorcycle. He continues to wait for me, which seems to be a practiced skill, and suddenly I come to a decision and plop the helmet on my head with a grumble.
His lips twitch as he tries to hide his smile, while I glare at him through the visor. He snatches up his own helmet, puts it on, and mounts the bike. When I don't move, his arm reaches out, grabbing hold of the front of his jacket and pulls me to him. I gasp, but don't stumble like I expect to, as he steadies me.
"Here," he places my hand on his shoulder, "hold on and swing your leg over the back of the bike."
I do as he instructs, wishing that I'd worn a longer skirt. Or jeans. Jeans would've worked much better. He could be a gentleman and look away, but Brendan, apparently, is anything but a gentleman. I feel myself flush as his eyes keep a close watch on my progress. The moment I sit down, my body lunges forward, wrapping itself around Brendan's like a glove. I feel his intake of breath and I try to move back, keeping my hands on his shoulders while I find a comfortable position. But any kind of distance between us is almost impossible, so I remove my hands, looking for somewhere to place them.
"You'll have to hold on."
There's something in his voice, but I can't identify it through the fog that surrounds my own brain. My breathing is shallowed by his proximity. Tentatively, I wrap my arms around his middle, locking my hands on his stomach. I feel his muscles contract, and I'm sure he can feel the beating of my heart against his back. He revs the bike to life and all coherent thought leaves me as the silence is broken by the rumble of the machine.
The feel of the machine beneath me and Brendan’s solid presence in front of me wrecks havoc on my emotional state. I’ve never been this close to another human being before and the thrill of the proximity and the speed is even more intensified by my newly discovered powers. I’m hot and cold all over and I hold on that much tighter while he speeds away.
When we stop, ten minutes later, I have no desire to get off the bike. And to be honest, it has nothing to do with the fact that my body is now molded with Brendan's. I've actually enjoyed myself. Surprise, surprise.
I can tell Brendan is grinning even before he takes his helmet off. It's not the first time I feel like he can read my mind. I realize I'm still plastered to him, so I make my arms unhook and get off the bike slowly. My feet feel like jelly and I stumble for a minute, before Brendan is once again there, steadying me against him. I have to get a grip on these weird sensations every time he's near, or I'm going to drive myself mad.
I allow him to lead the way into the house, while I walk behind and try to find solid footing again. For the first time, I realize we're no longer in the center of the city. We're back out in the suburbs and Brendan's house blends in with the rows of other two story buildings lining the street. I really didn't picture him living in a cookie cutter family neighborhood. Especially after I saw him fight. But I guess I really don't know anything about him, other than the fact that he makes my heart race.
I follow him into the house, keeping my distance as he walks into the kitchen. I should be asking more questions, I should be worried he's trying to kidnap me or something, but I'm not. I'm trusting him and I have no idea why. It's almost like a reflex, from a long forgotten time. I’m getting really nostalgic here. Might need to tone that down a bit.
"Here, take a seat. Are you hungry? Because I'm hungry. I'll make us a sandwich." Brendan gestures to one of the barstools set up in front of the counter. He turns toward the fridge, not waiting for me to make a decision, and starts pulling items off the shelves. I watch as he spreads out the makings for sandwiches on the counter in front of me, not saying a word.
"Do you live here by yourself?" I ask, after a few more moments of silence. I'm not exactly sure why I feel the need to talk, the comfortable silence is there. I could sit here for hours, just watching him. Here comes that nostalgia again. I shake my head as that image takes root in my mind. That is not why I'm here. I need answers. I know close to nothing about this guy.
"No, with some other guys from college." He doesn't elaborate and I realize this is something he does well. He only answers with the most basic truth. I'll have to extract the information from him, meticulously, if I'm ever to learn what I am or who's after me. It takes him all of five minutes to prepare us some food, before he’s pushing a plate in my direction.
"Here, you should eat something while I pack." Then, after grabbing a sandwich for himself, he turns on his heels and walks out of the kitchen.
"Pack?" Reaching for the other sandwich, I race out of the kitchen after Brendan. I find him in the first room just up the stairs, sandwich in his mouth, his hands pulling pieces of clothing out of the dresser, questions racing through my mind.
"Where are you going?" I finally blurt out.
"You mean, where are we going?" He asks, swallowing the chunk of bread.
"I'm going home."
As soon as the words leave my mouth, I know they're not true, but there is no way I'm just letting him assume things. I'm not going to be led around like a puppy on a leash. He give me a look, something along the lines of "oh please" and ignores my statement.
"Brendan," I place a hand on my hips, staring him down, "I'm not going anywhere until you give me something besides 'you're a magical protector girl, now listen to everything I say'." There's an unexpected amount of power in my words, an authority I didn't know I possessed. But this whole mystery business is getting on my nerves. He stops what he's doing, to study me with something similar to reverence in his gaze. I don't have time to dissect that before he lets out an exasperated breath and caves.
"I'm giving you the condensed version because we definitely don't have time for this." I beam at him, because the feeling of victory is small and precious and he chuckles. "I forgot how stubborn you can be." Before I can comment on that, Brendan continues.
"But I can't tell you everything." I open my mouth to protest but he holds up his hand. "If I overload you, you will break under the weight of the information without giving it the time to process...it won't be good."
He waits for me to acknowledge the statement, and I do, after thinking it over. It makes sense. I guess I didn't think of that. I just want answers, so I'll take what I can get. Brendan nods at my acceptance, before taking a deep breath and continuing.
"You, Calista, are from the ancient family of Warriors. Your family has served the Royal Ones
for generations. The Shadows have been at war with our kind for centuries. They want the land we live on because it holds majyk they've never been able to achieve and they will stop at nothing to get what they want. You were brought up as one of the Protectors of the High Relics. The Knowledge is not only an artifact of immense power and wisdom, it is also a gateway to the worlds. Someone in the possession of the Knowledge wouldn't have to follow any of the rules."
"Brendan, you pretty much told me all of this already. What I don't understand is how does any of that end up with me here? With no memories?" Something passes in Brendan's eyes. I take a step closer, lowering myself on the other side of the bed. He averts his eyes, focusing on some spot on the wall in front of him before speaking.
"There was an ambush in Skazka. The name of our homeland, which basically means Fairytale.” He explains, after seeing my puzzled look. “The Queen, along with the Council, asked you to protect the relic. You decided to take it out of our homeland. It's harder for the Shadows to track you in this realm, but something went wrong. The journey erased your memories and placed you far from the original location. It took me a while to find you, and when I did, and you didn't know me, I wasn't sure what to do. For the moment, you were safe and so was the relic. I stayed to watch over you in case something happened."
"And something did."
"Yes," he raises his eyes to mine and I see sadness there I didn't notice before. He may not have said it, but I know deep down that Brendan wasn't just a protector to me. He knew me, maybe trained with me, maybe it was something more. I just wish I could remember, and maybe, just maybe, take that haunted look out of his eyes.
He stands abruptly, heading for where he left his duffle bag. I watch for a moment, trying to process the fact that I'm a Volshebnitsa, a Protector. Trying to process the fact that magic exists.
There’s so much here that I can ask, so much more information that I need before I can understand any of it. But I know now is not the time to delve into the details, not with the monsters close on our heels. The pressure in my head intensifies as I try to wrap my mind around what I’ve been told, trying to keep myself from breaking apart.
"Calista," I look up at his voice, "I know it's a lot. But we'll get through this, okay?" The conviction behind his words almost brings tears to my eyes, but I quickly blink them away.
"Okay."
5
I devour my sandwich, not realizing just how famished I am and we're out of the house five minutes later.
The sky is darker than midnight, the clouds hanging low over our heads. It's not raining at the moment, which I guess should make me thankful for small favors. Brendan is all focus and action, determination making him a man on a mission. He doesn't even bother to close the door behind him as he leaves the house. I do that for him. He hooks the duffle to the back of the motorcycle then reaches for the helmets.
"So where exactly are we going?" I ask when he hands one of the helmets to me. Taking it out of his hands, I don't put it on, waiting for an answer.
"We're going to see a friend." Must everything be so cryptic?
"Do I know this friend?" I try again.
"You used to." There's that catch in his voice again, as if he's not telling me something.
"Brendan—“ I begin, but his sigh cuts me off.
"Cal, I know you’re frustrated with me for not answering all the questions to your liking, but I’m trying to make sure we’re alive first. So can we do this once we get there? Or even just away from the house. I don't feel safe sticking around the city." It's hard to argue when he uses logic on me, but I have to.
"What about Jemma? I kind of left her at the party without an explanation." I'm a terrible friend for not thinking of her earlier, but I'm thinking of her now. "She'll probably freak and call the police if I don't come back. And you may have clothes and whatever supplies you stuck in that bag, but look at me. I'm still wearing this and this is not exactly traveling attire." I wave my hand in front of my body, glancing up just in time to see Brendan's eyes darken. His gaze slides over me, pausing every so often, with a careful study that seems to take forever. But only actually lasts a moment.
"Jemma is being taken care of and we'll get you supplies when we get where we're going. Now, get on." He swings his leg over the bike without waiting for reply, but I still won't budge.
"What do you mean Jemma is "being taken care of"? What does that mean?" I know my voice has risen an octave higher but my overactive imagination is conjuring up all kinds of horrible scenarios. I give myself some credit. It’s not like I’m not justified in thinking the worst.
"Cal," he lets out a puff of frustration.
"No!" my voice rings out in the quiet around us, slamming into him as if I've physically reached out and pushed him. He sways on the bike, jumping off it to land on his feet. I stare at him in shock, unbelief racing through my veins.
"Did I do that?" I ask, fear lacing my voice. The hum of power still vibrates under my skin and I have no idea how to make it stop. I glance down at my hands, wondering where that power came from and what exactly it means.
"It's okay." Brendan manages, taking a step toward me and I'm thankful there's a bike between us now. I look up at him, terror rushing over my skin at what I can do and all signs of this being a fluke fly out the window. He nods his head, reaching out to close his fingers over mine.
“Just breath, Cal. It’s okay. Don’t be afraid of your power.”
His voice soothes my nerves and I feel myself relaxing at the simple touch. Swallowing down the fear and confusion, I meet his eyes, keeping my gaze steady on his.
"Please, Cali, just get on the bike.” He pleads once more. “We really need to get out of here. And the less your friends know, the better it is for them. They'll be protected, but we have to go." He puts emphasis on the last statement.
"I didn't mean to." The statement rushes out of me and I see his face soften.
"I know. I'm not afraid of you." The way he says it, I believe him. But what about me? I'm afraid of myself.
"Okay," I finally say, pulling the helmet on my head and settling behind Brendan. He doesn't hesitate, but reaches behind him and tugs my arms around him. How he's okay with me being this close when I can't seem to control myself is beyond me, but I silently thank him for his trust in me. Because I don’t trust myself and I don’t trust the life I’ve been living.
He's the only thing I have left to hold on to.
6
When we finally stop, it feels like we've been driving for an eternity.
Every minute, the weather turns worse. Not the best driving conditions, especially on a motorcycle. It's been like this for days though. Rain comes, seemly from nowhere, the clouds rolling in within minutes. Michigan is not exactly known for it's earthquakes, but we've had five in the last week alone. The school and the surrounding area were the only haven in this crazy weather mess. It’s not smart to be traveling anywhere right now. I feel like pointing all of this out to Brendan, but I doubt he'll actually take it under consideration.
My legs feel frozen from the constant beating of the wind. I'm thankful Brendan, at least, let me wear his jacket, because it's keeping me somewhat warm. He grabbed another one before we left, so I don't feel as bad about holding on to this one. Not that I should be feeling bad about any of this. He's practically kidnapping me from my life. And surprisingly, I’m going along with it.
We pull into a gas station, in the middle of nowhere, and Brendan parks in front of a gas pump. I disentangle myself from his body, my legs numb from sitting like that for hours. I take off my helmet, swiping at the hair that keeps blowing into my face and study my surroundings. There are trees as far as I can see, the only light is that of the building to my right. It makes me nervous, being so far away from everything, from civilization, but I'm putting on my brave face. I don't want Brendan to see just how scared I am.
I turn to him, as he's suddenly standing right in front of me. I let out a little squeak, and he
gives me that knowing grin that I really want to wipe right off his face. Before I can say anything, his hand is on my hair, pushing it out of my face and I forget to exhale. What is it about him that makes the normal functions of my body go on the fritz?
"You should go inside, warm up a little and get some food. I'll be there in a second."
It's not a request, but it's not quite a command either. I can't really decipher the tone behind his words, and it peaks my curiosity. He turns away before I can voice the question ringing in my mind. Having no other choice, I head for the inside of the store.
When I walk in, the guy behind the counter doesn't even glance up from his magazine. He looks ancient, and I wonder briefly how long he's been here. Not that it truly matters. At all. But my brain isn't exactly working rationally at the moment, so maybe it's no surprise random thoughts keep popping into my head.
I head toward the drink aisle, looking for something to quench my sudden thirst. I stare at the selection as if I've never picked out a drink before. I'm not sure what's wrong with me, my head's feeling lighter and lighter by the minute. Turning away, I almost stumble to the front.
"Excuse me, where are your restrooms?"
The man behind the counter glances up briefly, reaches under the counter and places a key in front of me. Then points to my right. I grab the key, and make my way to the ladies room. I'm lightheaded, confused, and there is a ring of colors around my vision. All of it hits me from seemingly nowhere.
When I stumble into the restroom, I almost face plant on the floor, before catching myself against the closest sink. I glance up, shocked to see how pale I am. How different I look. My hair is a squished chaos, my eyes carry dark circles under them. The makeup I so carefully applied earlier this evening is now a smeared mess. I can't believe Brendan has seen me this way. I bark out a laugh at the irrationality of my thoughts. Turning the water on, I splash the cool water over my overheated skin. Reaching for a paper towel, I scrub at what's left of my eyeliner and mascara, my eyes feeling better instantly.