Mercy

by Rhiannon Paille

  By the time she reached Steph’s house it was quarter after eight. She honked and waited, singing along to the tune. She eyed the paved driveway, the yellow patches of grass and the white railing to the porch. Steph lived in a blue bungalow, a few doors down from where Maeva used to live in a split-level. She imagined Steph scrambling to finish her makeup.

  The front door opened and a perfect blonde stepped onto the porch. Steph had a khaki book bag over her shoulder, white capris, white flats, and a pink brand-named tank top. She slid sunglasses over her eyes and pulled out a piece of gum as she opened the door, brushing off the passenger seat before sitting. Maeva switched the radio to some dance music station, not even recognizing the song.

  “Ugh,” Steph began, her usual monologue about to drip off her tongue. “Do you think we have time to stop for coffee before school? I mean we’ll probably be late, but I need coffee.”

  Maeva gulped and shot her a look. “It’s already eight. The line is going to be forty-five minutes long. We’ll miss all of first period.”

  Steph smiled and cracked her gum, seeming to consider it. Maeva hoped she would find sanity soon. Her only friend was great, but they were so different it was hard to believe the friendship had lasted. Stephanie was this blonde bombshell that didn’t have a boyfriend because of a braces disaster back in seventh grade. Red Boot was the only thing they had in common anymore. Maeva liked Steph better when all she was worried about was which My Little Pony she was getting for her birthday and when they were going to North Shore Camp. Since seventh grade Steph had morphed into the creature from the beauty lagoon. Sometimes she wondered if the only reason they were still friends was because Maeva had a car.

  “Fine. No coffee,” Steph said, glancing at Maeva. “Please tell me you’re not really wearing that scrubby sweater.”

  Maeva laughed as she pulled away and continued down Valley towards school. “Unfortunately I have to do that canoeing thing before school.”

  Steph let out a breath like she was perpetually mortified by the idea of canoeing to and from school. She held her hands to her chest. “That’s right! Do you want to keep some of your clothes at my house and get here early so I can make you look fantastic?” She sounded sarcastic but Maeva knew her well enough to know this was Steph’s version of being nice, even if nice also came off as patronizing, judgmental and snobby.

  Maeva paused at the yield, sighing at the cars zipping by. She had to merge somehow but this time of the day it was a tight squeeze to get onto the road. “I look okay.” She shrugged.

  Steph sat back, playing with the radio and her iPod trying to get them to sync. She’d tried that many times before but the Sundance was so ancient it was practically a classic. “Exactly,” Steph said raising her eyebrows.

  Maeva rolled her eyes. “I’m not going to meet anyone at school.” That was true, Maeva had known most of the kids in her class since elementary, Kenora being one of those fifteen thousand person towns that people visited, but nobody moved to. Tourist season was the only time she felt alive in Kenora, with people from all over the world coming to visit.

  Last summer Steph had a crush on a guy from Rome who came to the area because of some travel brochure. He ate at the diner every day, taught Steph Italian words, and invited her to go home with him. To Rome. Her parents didn’t approve. Maeva hoped her luck would change and one day the guy of her dreams would walk through the diner doors and sit in her section. Her mind wandered briefly to the bright blue eyes and she pulled the car into traffic, narrowly cutting off someone behind her. They honked and she pushed the gas pedal as hard as she could, begging the Sundance to gain a little speed.

  Steph was inspecting her gel nails when she had a chance to look over at Maeva. “Speaking of meeting people, there were some British guys in the diner the other day.” She stopped filing and shifted so that she could pull down the visor, half because the sun was blinding them and half to check her reflection.

  “Isn’t it a little late for tourists?” Maeva asked.

  Steph let out a guffaw. “Exactly what I thought. Anyway, they were really weird. The younger guy was scary as fuck and the old guy was quiet.”

  Maeva glanced at her, something in her churning, her throat constricted. “Did anything happen?” She forced the words out, not taking her eyes off the road. She took a right and began weaving through the small student parking lot looking for a spot.

  “No, they ordered, left. The young guy was all punk, not wannabe punk like he just stepped out of The Crypt, but like he actually meant it.”

  Maeva felt hot. She parked a spot at the edge of the lot, turned off the Sundance and pulled out the key and hunk of metal in one. It was warm. Steph regarded it like it might sprout wings and fly at her face, but Maeva stuffed it into her backpack before Steph could say anything. She couldn’t believe the boy in the forest had also been in the diner. Not during her shift obviously, but there, meaning she wasn’t crazy and he was real. She didn’t know what to think of the old guy, maybe his father, or something but she didn’t need to press Steph for details. The other girl would share them all before lunch. Maeva tried not to trip over her own foot as she rounded the car and noticed exhaust spewing from the pipe.

  Steph looked at her from the other side of the trunk. “Uh … I think your car is still on.”

  Maeva sighed and shifted her backpack grabbing the ignition and the keys. “I thought I did it right, hang on.” She went back to the driver’s side. She had to sit down so she could fit the ignition in, and then tried shutting off the car. She swiveled and leaned out the open door. “Is it off?”

  “Yeah,” Steph called.

  Maeva pulled the ignition out and hand locked her doors, making sure they were all shut before picking her backpack off the asphalt and following Steph across the lot.

  “Anyway,” Steph began. “Halfway through serving them I noticed a knife on the guy’s belt, a knife!” They hit the front doors, Steph holding one open for Maeva who fought for breath as they passed through the air-conditioned halls.

  “Did he say anything?”

  Steph slowed so they were walking in sync, Steph on her right side. “No, and I didn’t ask. I swear it was like something off Crime Lords. I wanted to get them their food and let them leave as quickly as possible.”

  “Why were they there?” Maeva wondered aloud, her mind on the boy with the sapphire eyes, deep blue flecks star bursting through the crystal.

  Steph shrugged as they passed another row of lockers. “Your guess is as good as …” She grabbed Maeva’s arm digging her nails in and jerked her towards the lockers. Maeva glanced at the office windows as she lost her balance, almost crashing into Steph as she found her feet. Steph hissed loudly in her ear to be quiet as she avoided banging into a locker.

  “That’s him,” Steph whispered, her tone full of urgency.

  Maeva dared another glance at the office but she already knew what she’d see. The boy from the forest stood in front of the desk, towering over Ms. Kilpatrick. He wasn’t that tall, but everything about him screamed death to Maeva. The way his shoulders coiled, the wire-straight posture, hands fisted at his sides. He wore all black with no logos or designs whatsoever on anything. The only color he wore was the silver square belt around his waist. His arms were skinny but tightly packed with ribbons of muscle that worked into his forearms. His skin was ghostly white. He turned his head a fraction of an inch in their direction and Maeva gulped waiting for him to see her.

  “Don’t stare,” Steph seethed as she pulled Maeva down the hall. They reached the center point, halls branching off in four different directions. Steph continued walking but Maeva couldn’t help herself. She turned, meeting his cold, hard eyes. Her chest pinched the moment she saw his lethal expression and she flushed, warmth spreading from her head to her toes. She dropped her eyes and followed Steph to first period, tears in her eyes.

  It was the boy from the forest, she was sure of it. She tried to conjure the image of his frightened bl
ue eyes but all she saw was his livid expression, knifing into her as if willing her to spontaneously combust. Maeva retreated to the bathroom, bracing her hands on the counter on either side of the sink. Her heart was a drum in her chest, pounding out a bass note so loud it reverberated in her head. Sweat soaked the rim of her black tank top and she fanned herself trying to get the granules of sweat on her face to dry. She cranked the tap and splashed water on her face. Squeezing her eyes shut, she forced the tears out of them and looked herself in the mirror. Bloodshot hazel eyes with flecks of brown looked back at her. Her black curly hair was frizzing up, little flyaway strands escaping her ponytail. She smoothed them down with her wet hands and ran the rest through the thick curls, her mind still a muddle of incoherent thoughts. She knew what she was thinking only she didn’t know how it made any sense. She fixed her gaze on her eyes and mouthed the words to herself, answering the question Steph couldn’t.

  “He came here to hurt me.”

  ***

  Chapter 9

  Sickness

  Krishani waited until everyone left the classroom, the clock above the chalkboard reading 3:35. Pre-Calculus wasn’t a very interesting subject. He understood the equations because the tiny pinpricks of memories he stole from another soul forty-four years ago. He zipped up his binder and slid it under his arm as the last kid left and eased out of his chair, tapping his knuckles once against the black tabletop. The teacher, whose name he didn’t bother remembering looked up from his cluttered mahogany desk. He reminded Krishani of a weasel and a rat; round, small nose and mouth, graying combed over hair. Krishani glowered at him the way he would have in Avristar at Adoron, or any of the girls at the Elmare Castle asking him for a dance. This teacher wasn’t important, he was part of a system, one Krishani knew well enough because he’d spent the past nine years being part of it in Leeds.

  “Good job, Mr. Norton,” the teacher said, his voice stuttering a bit on the name.

  Krishani narrowed his eyes and nodded curtly, emerging into an empty hallway. His boots felt like lead as he moved to his gray locker, twirled the combo, and stashed his binder inside the metal space. His original plan wasn’t to attend school in Kenora. He was there for a purpose, find Kaliel. However, after Elwen went over the paperwork that kept them in Canada, he added that by Canadian Law he had to enroll in school. He also said it would help Krishani keep a low profile. Yes, because being the only guy in a small town with an accent and attending high school was the best way to keep a low profile. He’d already heard the banter from the girls throughout the day about him and it was off putting.

  His broody, don’t-fuck-with-me attitude used to make girls run screaming for the hills, but these days it turned him into eye candy, and made half the female student population swoon over his very presence. He didn’t like that. It made him think about the dagger he kept on the nightstand along with the assortment of pills. If they touched him, if they tried to get close … he took a deep breath and tried to calm the ever present anger coiling his bones and turned his attention to the deserted hallway. He turned the corner passing the office again, and almost stopped in his tracks.

  Kaliel closed her locker and hefted her backpack over her shoulder, using both straps. It looked silly on her thin frame, clad in dark skinny jeans, black ballet flats, and tank top. She didn’t look at him as she turned, showing off a ponytail bursting with curls. She began going down the long hallway towards the side exit. Krishani thought he was going to pass out. She wasn’t anything like he remembered. Weighted down with the responsibility of the modern land, oblivious to the past, it was like she didn’t know anything about the girl she used to be. She pulled out an iPod and stuck the buds into her ears. Krishani heard his heartbeat pounding in his ears as his footsteps beat the floor with a steady boom, boom, boom.

  She whirled, pulling the ear buds out and letting them dangle on her left hand. “Are you following me?” she asked; hazel eyes wide, mouth slightly open. He noticed her chapped lips, raw breathing, and the increase in her pulse as he quickened towards her, his eyes narrowed to slits.

  “You don’t remember,” Krishani said, every syllable punctuated with double meaning. He stopped a couple feet away, noticing her body language that said two things at once: stand closer, stay away.

  Instead of doing what he thought Kaliel would do, break down, maybe cry, she crossed her arms and clucked her tongue, a disappointed mask crossing her face. “You left me there to die.” It wasn’t a question.

  Krishani couldn’t hear more of it. He left her to die? She fed him to the Vultures without even knowing it and stood there as if nothing ever happened between them. She looked at him like it was the second time in her entire existence she’d seen him. Every emotion, every dirty thing he could think of rose to the forefront of his mind. He took two long strides and gripped her upper arms so hard she yelped in protest, the backpack thudding to the floor as he backed her towards the lockers and slammed her against the wall beside one of them, pressing her fragile body against the stucco covered concrete.

  “What do you want from me?” she shrieked, tears brimming her black lined eyes. She met his lethal gaze, terror in her violet-tinged eyes. “Why are you here? Why were you there?” Her voice ripped through the air like a ghost. With those simple words it was like she’d stabbed him in the heart. He stared at her, forcing the body to hold on, forcing the Vulture begging to be free to stay. Stay long enough to see it through, stay long enough to do what he had to do. He couldn’t find the words to answer. She was everything to him and she threw it all away. She forced him to be a monster he couldn’t control. He stared at her dead pan for a long time, examining every inch of her from her rough hands pressed flat against the concrete, to the twitch in her manicured eyebrow to the steady pulse of her jugular vein, counting out the elevated beats of her heart. She smelled like pencil shavings, laundry soap, and a hint of body spray, some combination of African violets. The smell pulled him out of his stupor and almost made him break. Of course she would be drawn to violets. He couldn’t count the times she had produced them with a single touch on Avristar. They were just as much a part of her now as they were then.

  He pushed off the wall, taking slow deliberate steps towards the doors, his insides trembling with every step he took. He was trying to be careful because he didn’t need her seeing him convulse and fall apart. If he could hold on long enough she’d only see the monster she created, not the sad desperate boy living inside that monster.

  “Wait.” Kaliel interrupted his thoughts as he put his hand on the long push bar. He turned his head a fraction of an inch, enough to see her standing in the middle of the hallway looking disheveled and fearful. He waited for her to say something but she had that spellbound look on her face. “Who are you?”

  Krishani had many names. The one on his passport, the one the Vultures called him, and the ones he was born with, but he wasn’t going to make this easy for her. If she really wanted to make things right she was going to have to work for it, whether she remembered the past or not.

  “Wouldn’t you like to know,” he said, pushing the door open and covering himself in burning sunlight.

  O O O

  Krishani unlocked the tumbler and took the steps two at a time until he stood on the landing in front of his flat. He fumbled with the keys as he tried to unlock the multiple dead bolts. After a few tries he shoved the key into the hole and violently turned. He forgot to bring a lunch and everything in the cafeteria was junk food, fast food, or mystery food so he skipped it for a glass of water. Spots dotted his eyes, a pounding headache flashing across his temples as he rammed his shoulder into the door and it scraped open. He ripped off his shoes and threw his keys at the island. They landed somewhere on the floor beside it as he collapsed on the couch, his entire body out of energy.

  “Bad day?” Elwen asked rounding the couch and handing Krishani a glass of water and two powdery pills. Krishani downed them in one gulp, gasping for breath the moment he finished.
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  “I need to eat.” He couldn’t think straight, his head burning like a torch. He wiped the sweat off his brow, feeling the urge to take off his shirt. He launched across the room, turning on the fan in the corner and fell back on the couch, reveling in the cool air. He closed his eyes, the encounter with Kaliel etched on his mind. He didn’t want to forget anything about it, the way she looked at him, the words she said. He tried to tattoo the memory onto his brain so if he died he could take it with him. He’d take fresh memories of Kaliel to blind vicious hunger any day. A cold compress found his hand and he absentmindedly pressed it to his forehead as Elwen set a bowl of cereal on the rectangular oak coffee table in front of him. He picked up the bowl, shoveling spoonfuls of sugary flakes into his mouth.

  Elwen perched on the edge of the sofa chair, fixing him with his usual amused look. He scoffed. “You couldn’t do it in the forest and you can’t do it now can you?”

  Krishani swallowed a growl in his throat. “What I do won’t change anything.” He went back to the cereal, almost finished, as Elwen huffed.

  “Killing her is what you came to do. It’s why I’ve wasted nine years helping you find her. This has always been about revenge.”

  Krishani swallowed, choking on flakes and coughing. He put the bowl down, feeling infinitely better. The pills worked fast magic. He didn’t want to talk to Elwen. He wanted his ancestor to do paperwork and make it possible for him to live some semblance of a normal human life. Talking wasn’t necessary. He moved fluidly to the other side of the coffee table and flicked on the Xbox, grabbing the controller. He clicked a button on another remote to turn the flat screen on, and one more to turn the surround sound system on.

  The game came to full life both on screen and in the flat, noise booming through the speakers. It made pain leapfrog across his brain so he hit mute and used the Xbox controller to start the game. It was boring, but it was a great distraction from Elwen’s ranting.