by Debra Kristi
A bitter breeze slams into me when I step through the door. Dark clouds hang low in the desert sky, and the air is heavy with dew. I clench my teeth and yank my jacket close around me. Overhead, the security light buzzes and crackles. That and the occasional car driving by on the damp road are the only sounds to be heard, until the door behind me closes with a loud clang. I jump, then shake it off.
“Wimp,” I whisper to myself before scurrying into the night. I squash my anxiety and proceed into the light of the full moon. It’s cold, I’m wet, and the parking lot is dark and desolate. Not a fabulous combination.
Spotting my car is easy; there aren’t more than a handful in the entire lot. In the distance, the school drumline is practicing, the sound dropping flat in the wet weather.
I’m not particularly crazy about being alone at the moment. On any other night, it probably wouldn’t bother me. Tonight, it feels wrong. My town is relatively safe. It’s got to be my imagination working in overdrive, but that wouldn’t explain what just happened to me. Would it? Either I really am going crazy, or something impossible is happening. Holy Gaea protect me! Shadows tried to drown me.
Colors play off the puddles as I make my way across the blacktop. In my tired state, I find the shimmer captivating. There’s more to it, though, and I can’t put my finger on it. It’s like something’s shifting around me, and its movement is getting caught in the puddles’ reflections. Except that’s not it, either. I’m so tired, I can’t comprehend what I’m observing.
Maybe what I’m looking for is in the puddles themselves. Only that’s ridiculous. I recall the shadows in the swimming pool and shudder. My body tenses, and ice water replaces the blood coursing through me. My gaze darts from puddle to puddle, trying to determine if it’s even conceivable—could those creepy shadow things follow me out here? No, impossible, makes no sense. But then, nothing is making sense tonight. Clutching my car keys like a weapon between my fingers, I hasten my pace.
All my senses are tuned to my surroundings. I’m prepared to strike at the first sign of anything unusual. I barely hesitate when the whispers sweep through the dark and swirl up around me from the pavement. My arm swings, finding nothing but air. Voices tease me, only they’re not simple voices. They’re layered, thick with sound and meaning, reminding me of the few horror movies I’ve seen. They’re trying to talk to me, only they’re not speaking in any language I’ve heard before.
My thoughts divide. Part of me wants to run away far and fast, while the other, the one in control, walks blindly toward the car, half-focused on this new, developing sense, completely lost in the division of self. Understanding is almost within my grasp. I wonder if this is what Crystia was talking about with the cats.
The car now sits before me, and I only vaguely remember my walk across the parking lot. I lift the keys to unlock the door, and then a slight shuffle has me spinning and swinging with my keyed hand as a warning to whatever has come so dangerously close.
“Whoa.” Ry seizes my hand before I take his eye out, his face alight with laughter. He’s physically closer than I expected. I don’t like that he was able to get that near to me. I should have been more alert. Still, I relax at the sight of him.
“Hey,” I say as he releases my hand.
His stature is relaxed, but his brow is heavily creased. “Are you all right? You seem a bit edgy.”
“I’m fine.” It’s clear by the torque of his lips and the crease at the edge of his eye he’s not convinced. My gaze wanders across the parking lot in search of his car. “Sorry about that, by the way. I would never—”
“Yeah, I know. Don’t worry about it.” His face softens, brightens, his lips curving slightly into a smile, and he offers to take my bag. “Lucky for you I have quick reflexes.”
My conversation with Crystia at the Market replays in my mind, and I flush, realizing there might be some truth in what she said. “Why are you here?”
Throwing my bag across to the passenger seat, I try to act casual and shift my focus. Would Ry and I make a good couple? It’s possible. Except—what about the green-eyed guy who had me completely flustered only a short time ago?
Ryland touches my arm, turning me to face him. “Looking for you, actually. I saw your car sitting here in the dark. You realize, this isn’t the safest place at night. You should be more careful.”
When I look into his eyes, he appears more relaxed, and I try to picture us actually dating, or even going to prom together.
“You look tired.”
It’s merely an observation on his part. The point is he noticed. I am tired, exceptionally so.
“Is that why you skipped yoga?”
“I just needed a swim.” Brave and in need of comfort, I slide my hands down his arms, letting them wander in search of a handhold. “I haven’t been sleeping well lately.”
With the mastered skill of a professional rejecter, he repositions my hands away from his own. The action stings, and I lower my gaze.
“Why can’t you sleep? Is something bothering you?”
I stare at the wet asphalt. “No. Yes. I don’t know.” Ugh. I sound like an idiot. “It’s nothing really. I’m just tired, so if you don’t mind?” I tilt in toward the driver’s seat. “I’d like to get home. Maybe tonight I’ll sleep better.”
He leans against the edge of the door as I prepare my escape. “Sure. Will you call me when you get in? Just so I know you got home safe?”
“Uh, sure. Although it’s completely unnecessary. It’s probably just stress from my workload,” I mumble, forcefully thinking about my classwork and after-school stuff. Together they rapidly fill my days. Ry’s aware of this, as he helps me with most of it. Best excuse ever to explain my behavior and lack of sleep.
Fiddling with the keys, I slide the one marked Ford into the ignition, hoping to move things along.
“I’m sure you’re right.” For a moment he’s utterly serious, a sharp edge to his tone. Then his amazing smile flashes into place, and his body relaxes, reminding me of the guy I’ve grown so comfortable with since the accident.
Sitting in the dark parking lot, I study him, trying to figure out what’s different. He’s been peculiar the past few days, although I can’t say how exactly. My eyes blur, fixating on the highlights in his hair. The amber tones are much more predominant at the moment. It’s the way the overhead security lights reflect off his dew-dampened cut. I fight the desire to sigh. Ry’s my best friend, and I don’t want to mess that up. Will I mess it up if I explore something more?
Did I already mess it up a moment ago?
My eyes wander along the stretched neckline of his weathered and worn T-shirt, ever curious about the mysterious tattoos he’s always keeping covered. I’ve been dying to see more of them. I want to understand why he would get tattoos, and then choose to keep them covered. I only catch glimpses every now and then on his upper arm or around his collarbone. The hint of one teases me now at the base of his neck. I asked him about them once, and he adeptly sidestepped the question. I didn’t bother after that.
His eyes are trained on me, awaiting my response.
I open my mouth to tell him what happened in the pool, then clamp my jaw shut. What proof do I have anything really happened at all? Shrugging, I let him make of it what he will and crank the key, bringing the engine to life. “Fine.”
He waits in silence as I shift into gear and drive off. A chill runs through me as I think about how he flipped the situation around on me. I don’t like being rejected by him, and yet I’m not even sure I like him in that way. Looking back in the rearview mirror, he’s nowhere to be seen. He has vanished into the night.
The house is completely covered in darkness when I pull into the driveway. No bright porch light waits for me. That’s my first clue no one is home. All the cars are gone. That’s the second. Our home is situated on a lightly populated road, with four, maybe five houses spread some distance apart, and no street lamps, not a one. Tonight, I have only the moon to guide my way
from the car to the kitchen door. Out in the desert, night can sometimes get as black as the dark sea. That’s something I don’t care to stand alone in right now—pitch-black—so I hurry into the house.
Through the side door and into the kitchen I burst, calling for my mom or Crystia. There is no reply, but I wasn’t expecting one. Without pause, I make my way toward my room, turning on lights as I go. I can already hear Mom’s lecture about budget and smart utility use, but I don’t care. The illumination gives me comfort.
A faint thump comes from the back of the house, followed by the clang of a small bell.
“Meow.” Oscar is instantly at my feet, rubbing against my legs. I pick him up and scratch the back of his neck. The orange furball is another thing that brings me comfort.
“Come on,” I say and carry him with me toward my room. “You can keep me company.” But the closer I get to my room, the stronger the memories from the day bombard me. I yearn to squirm, to scratch. Instead, I hold on to Oscar and step to my bedroom door. The earlier computer incident gives me pause, making me unsure if I wish to enter.
Oscar looks at me and purrs. Thrusting his nose up to mine, he gives me a wet kiss. He should sense if there were anything to fear, anything out of the ordinary. Animals are supposed to be good that way. And despite my anxiety, he appears perfectly content. My grip on him tightens, holding him hostage. I blow out a long breath, steel my nerve, fire my confidence, and take four brisk strides across the room, grabbing the chocolate I discarded earlier and barreling straight for the bed. Any temptation to peek at the computer—avoided.
At the bed’s edge, Oscar jumps from my arms to my pillow. Seconds later, I crash. To the cushy surface of my mattress I fall, face first, groaning inwardly. I’m beyond tired, and I’m all right with that.
My gi hangs on the front of my closet door as a reminder of my dedication to the martial arts’ craft. Soon enough, my efforts will pay off. Hopefully. I wish, I want, I need to escape this dirt town. Make Skylar choke on her impression of me. With all that I can do, Hollywood would be stupid not to take me. I’ll be the best damn stuntwoman in the industry.
I unwrap my chocolate and read the fortune inside while the candy melts in my mouth. The future is within your reach. I let the foil drop on the comforter.
Every day after school Ry and I sneak off to work on fighting techniques. Ry has been amazing and, as it turns out, instrumental in my plan. Crystia sees how much time Ry and I spend together as something more. That’s why she thinks he’s sweet on me. Or at least, I believe that’s the reason. If she saw the way he drove and nagged me, she might have a different opinion. Especially if she saw the way he rejected me tonight.
I roll over on my back and stare up at the ceiling. I consider the car crash and how Ry pulled me from the wreck. How since then, he has helped me with any crazy idea I’ve come up with. His friendship saved me. After I lost—
I squint my eyes closed. I don’t fancy reminiscing about Jeremy. Mom said things happen for a reason. I want to believe that, but what good came from Jeremy’s death? He was just a high school kid, like me.
But the truth is, several things did happen after that night, possibly because of that night. One: Ry and I became close friends. Two: I realized what I was meant to do, the stuntwoman thing. Three: I became in-tune with the world in a way I never was before. And four: Dohlan walked into my dreams and eased my loneliness.
Dohlan. My heart aches at the thought of him. Or maybe it isn’t my heart; maybe it’s something else. Something much more primal. Something I have yet to give in to. Not that I’ve had a staggering amount of opportunities.
I curl around my overstuffed pillow and focus on the absolute silence of the house. Oscar mews in protest. Silly cat thinks he holds the rights to my pillow, but I swirl him into the curve of my night stance, and soon he’s breathing sluggish and deep. I try to avoid it, even as the yawns begin their attack, but I can’t stop my mind from roaming, fixating on the vision I had at the pool. The vision of my mom’s death, of the old psychic and the word destiny. I don’t want to ponder these things. I want to sleep.
I’ve been dreaming of Hiddenkel for as long as I can remember. The place makes me happy. Makes me feel safe. When I was little and spent my nights in the company of the green-eyed-boy, it was even better. He was probably my subconscious mind’s unique way of dealing with the absent-father issue, but I didn’t care. I savored every moment I had with him.
Now that so much time has passed since he’s appeared in my dreams, I find myself craving him. I shouldn’t. I’m older and have a better understanding of real-life matters. I realize Hiddenkel, Dohlan, him—they’re all imaginary. Plus, with a sex god like Dohlan haunting my dreams, how can I crave anything or anyone else?
The night tugs, seductively calling me to the other side of consciousness and my ever-waiting dream-walks. Burrowing between the covers, I mumble a prayer that I won’t find myself fighting some big bad, and then leave the day behind.
Colors blur together like ribbons tied to a spinning hanbo. Nausea flops in my belly, and the first thrum of a headache assaults my skull. Then, without warning, everything stops.
The most wondrous sight spreads out before me. A scented, colorful haven. A floral meadow encircling me. Everywhere I look—Nerine lilies. My mom’s favorite flower, deadly poisonous and exquisitely gorgeous. I hold one of the exotic blossoms in my hand, smoothing it against my cheek, and see a boy retreat from view. My heart thumps wildly, and I exhale slowly. A sadness washes over me watching him leave. Longing for his return quivers in my bones. And yet, there is happiness surrounding all thoughts of him.
Who is he, and why do I feel this way? He’s got a cute backend. Could be Dohlan. But then, why is he walking away from me?
I want to soak in the scenery, yet I’m compelled to keep admiring him. Doesn’t stop my mind from forming questions. Where the hell is Kaia? for one. She’s usually in any dream-walk not featuring Dohlan or my green-eyed guy. My hand brushes down my brown suede skirt to my chocolate leather boots. Not my usual dream-state attire. I try to stand. Nothing happens. Movements or actions are not under my control. I glance down at my hands, will them to move, only they aren’t my hands. My mind whirls. Panic triggers.
“Whom, pray tell, was that, my dear?”
From the wall of trees at the edge of the meadow steps a tall, alluring woman with long, wavy blonde hair, boasting brilliant, flaming streaks of red throughout. Her lips sparkle the shade of blood. She seems oddly familiar, yet different. Everything around us falls silent, and I suspect nothing good has come to visit.
“Kaia, darling. I asked you a question.” Syllables drip off her lips like honey.
I try to look for Kaia, except my head won’t obey. My body pushes up to its knees. “No one of concern. Merely a friend.”
Kaia’s voice is coming from my mouth! My mind reels.
I’m stuck in Kaia’s body. An unwilling passenger. Unable to speak or move.
Something indistinguishable plays across the woman’s face. I don’t know what to make of her expression, then she looks to the side, hiding it from Kaia. “I see. Has your favor turned? You failed to show.” She takes a step closer. “I was under the impression you relished the idea of family reunions, of obtaining my help. No other will be able to offer deliverance from your health deterioration as I can. ”
“Sorry?” Kaia jerks upright. “Oh! I missed it. The equinox,” she stammers. “I am so sorry, Aunt Dreya. I left you waiting.”
Dreya edges to our right. “Yes, you did.” She pauses. “You certainly have much to learn. I so look forward to teaching you.” She stretches out her arms and instantaneously closes the distance. She stands before us, uncomfortably fast, sweeping Kaia—me—us off the ground and into her in a warm, tight embrace.
In all the years I’ve dreamt of my long-deceased older sister, I’ve never felt so connected. This time I sense Kaia’s awkwardness. Uncertain what to do with her arms, now pinned at her sid
e, she politely attempts to hug back. Raising her arms at the elbows, she circles them around Aunt Dreya for a light pat, freezing at the feel of cold, strong steel down the center of Dreya’s back.
Dreya throws her head back and laughs, then grabs Kaia’s shoulders and repositions her, squaring them face-to-face. “Fear not, dear niece. Thine is a fool who proceeds unprotected. Do you not have one similar?” She gestures to the sword lying at Kaia’s feet. The one she and I have used in our practices many times. The inscription running down the length of the blade is irrefutably one and the same: “Take no action without heart.”
Kaia shakes off her apprehension. It’s tough to take such a finely dressed woman as a threat. And Aunt Dreya’s apparel is completely impractical for tromping around the woods, much less taking up a fight. She could hardly fare well with the restricted movement her long crimson dress would provide. The gown is adorned with multiple colored ribbons woven throughout the neckline, sleeves, and bodice. Surely, they bind.
“No worries, love. I have observed you from afar for too long. Watched you spar with tutors and gentlemen callers. Watched your talent grow exponentially.” She pats her hands together and casts us a challenging gaze down the length of her too-pointy nose. “Please, grant me the honor. Spar with me. We are both here and quite prepared. We could test our strength and abilities against the powerful blood of kin.” Her temperate words don’t match the deep desire burning within her violet eyes.
Kaia doesn’t respond. Tension builds in her jaw. I should do the talking, tell the witch off, but I can’t, and Kaia doesn’t. Can’t she see the evil in front of her? Or is Kaia too mesmerized by all the adornments the glitter-bitch wears? Dreya actually has tiny jewels along the edges of her eyelids! Gems drip from her ears, around her neck, and on all her fingers. She’s a total glimmer-fest.