My dad scowled and grabbed the remote right out of her hands. “I’ll lay down when I’m good and ready. Right now I need to talk to my family.” The nurse reeled back at this challenge to her authority. He barked at her. “Alone!” My dad nearly never lost his temper like that, but I just attributed it to the tiny bit of stress he had been put through.
The nurses hands fluttered up toward her mouth and then around in front of her. “Oh, my. Okay, I’ll just go get the doctor then shall I?” She turned and fled the room.
My mom’s stern face and tight lips showed her disapproval. “Jack…,”
He waved his hand in dismissal. “Sorry Helen. I just really need to understand what happened.”
So, we filled him in on what had been happening. Except for the part about the house getting crushed. All the way to the point that I revived him. He was alert and lucid and followed the story well but started tiring after about twenty minutes. When we were done, he asked me what exactly I was doing to him, and I confessed my ignorance. At that point, his eyes looked heavy, and he voluntarily put the bed back down to a low angle. “I think I need to rest a bit now.”
The love my mother had for my father was obvious as she stroked his hair and kissed him. There were tears in her eyes. “Yes dear. You’ve had quite the ordeal.”
“Dad?”
“Yes, Finn?”
“You know the amethyst of my mother’s you gave me?”
“Yes.”
“Well, I was wondering…I wanted to know where did you get it?”
He closed his eyes, took a deep breath. “It was a gift from Victoria’s grandfather.”
“The shaman guy?”
“Yes. He said it was a spirit in crystal form. He called it a ‘pain'.”
“Well, where…,”
“Finn, can we discuss this after I get home?”
I smiled at that thought. My dad would be coming home! “Sure, Dad.”
Broken Home
Shortly after our conversation, the doctor swept into the room and gave my dad the once over. After that, we made him eat some food. My mom made him finish it, even though he complained about every bite being as tasteless as chalk dust, he fell back asleep. Mom and I panicked a little until the doctor reassured us that he was in a normal, healing sleep. After that, I couldn’t take the idea of spending another night at the hospital. Despite resistance from both my mom and doctor, I managed to get the hospital to release me and let me go home.
It felt really good to get out of that wheelchair, which they made me ride out in, saying goodbye to Kati, and turning my back on that place. I’ve never wanted to be home so badly. My mother warned me that the tree had pretty much trashed my room, but had reassured me that Squiffy, my hamster, was safe and sound and down in the kitchen for the time being. Still, the rain had destroyed a lot of my things before workers could get up tarps and start fixing the roof.
The good feelings lasted about five seconds before several reporters, waiting at the hospital entrance, saw me and closed in. They started asking questions without hesitation.
“Mrs. Morgenstern, Mr. Morgenstern…”
I admit that it wasn’t a mob like the ones you see on TV cop shows, but I’d never been the center of attention like this. Before I could open my mouth to say anything, my mother stepped in. “We have told you everything we know. My son is tired and has nothing to add.”
One of the men was Jason Sand, an investigative reporter for a local station and as close to a celebrity as there is in Newark.
He had a cameraman with him and pressed himself into my mom’s face and said, “Mrs. Morgenstern, everyone is concerned with the rumors that have been flying around. Can you confirm for our viewers that the attack was perpetrated by gang members from Detroit?”
My mom slapped the microphone away from her face and glared at him. After an uncomfortable moment, he backed away, and we walked past him. You rock, Mom!
We left the reporters behind, and Mom shuffled me off through the summer heat into the searing furnace of the car. For a brief moment, my gloomy thoughts were diverted to pray that the AC would kick in as we headed out of the parking lot. Those hopes were forgotten when I spied Erik Parmely across the lot.
“What the hell?” slipped out of my mouth before I could stop it. Hoping to avoid censure, I told my mom, “Every time I turn around, Erik Parmely is stalking me!”
My diversion worked, and she searched around to look for him. “Where is he, Finn?”
“As soon as I saw him, he disappeared.”
“I’m getting worried about that boy. As far as I’m concerned, he’s breaking the restraining order. I’m going to call the police.”
“Good, the guy is seriously stalking me.” Sweat was already beading my forehead in the hellish heat of the car, and I swiped at it ineffectively. Then, I remembered the note.
“Uh, Mom, that reminds me of something. Erik left a note for me at the hospital.”
She glanced at me with furrowed brows. “What? Why didn’t you tell me this?”
“Uh, it slipped my mind?”
Anger quickened her voice. “What did it say?”
“I saw everything. I know what you are. As God is my witness, I will stop you.”
My mom’s face drained of color and her lips thinned in anger.
“Finn, I wish you had told me this earlier, I would have had the police post a guard on your room.”
“Sorry Mom, but if he was in my room and didn’t hurt me, I don’t think we need to worry about him.”
My mom’s brows and shoulders got tighter and tighter as she drove.
“Relax Mom, don’t worry, it’s not like he's going to shoot me or anything.” I used to taunt fate like this routinely.
Her reply was stern and clipped. “Finn, tomorrow we are going to go down to the police station, and you are going to give them that note. I want that boy kept away from you and I don’t want you to go anywhere alone before we do.”
I took a deep breath and reminded myself what I had put my mother through this last couple weeks. “Okay Mom, I won’t go anywhere before that.”
She relaxed her shoulders a bit. The AC finally kicked in eventually, providing a small relief from the heat.
Another memory struck me. “Is he following us? Last time Dad drove me home from the hospital, he tailed us.”
She studied the rear view mirror. “I don’t see his car.”
“Well, that’s something at least.”
We got home with only one noteworthy incident. As we drove through our neighborhood, we passed the Washington’s house, and I received a new kick in the gut. A “for sale” sign was stuck in their front yard. They were moving—probably to get away from me. I tried to lock the guilt away. Mr. Washington blamed me for what had happened to Jen and Gregg, my best friend. He had forbidden them from seeing me again.
After arriving home, I made my way through the house and out to the backyard. I swore at the sliding door until I forced it open, and stepped out into what seemed like a young oak forest. Many of the new oaks were taller than I could reach, but the splintered and stained stump of my oak and the revolting smell of rotting blood riveted my attention. The sight brought me enough grief for two. Spring and I both mourned the passing of that mighty oak, but Spring sprang back before I did.
It is strange living past your death and seeing your body in front of you.
“I’ll bet,” I muttered. This elicited a query from my mother standing beside me.
“What did you say, honey?”
“Just mumbling to myself,” I said. It made my mother uneasy when I told her I was talking to Spring.
I left her to go check out my room. In spite of everything, it felt good to be home, more tension that I had been carrying since waking in the hospital released and my breathing became less constricted. Things weren’t so different than they were before, so I headed upstairs feeling light as a feather.
The sight of my room plopped a heavy weight right back
on my shoulders. I surveyed the damage from the door. All my things and the debris were cleared away from the room. A large blue tarp covered a gaping hole in the wall and ceiling, and it painted the walls and the floor in blue. The carpet was gone, leaving dirty plywood. Water stains made fractal patterns throughout the room’s remaining walls and flooring. Outside, the setting sun allowed some relief from the heat, but in my room, the humidity and the smell of mildew made me think of a rotting swamp. The buzzing of dozens of trapped flies made the only sound in the room.
I shut the door and then headed down the hall to the guest room. Someone had piled all my belongings around the room. Some were water damaged, while others appeared untouched.
I shoved a couple of the piles on the guest bed over to make enough room to lie down. I tried to ignore the hollow feelings stirred by the ruins of my life and stopped fighting the heavy weariness that quickly dragged me down in my sleep.
Final Fantasy
The next morning, my stomach’s cries for food pulled me out of my blissfully unmemorable dreams. I hopped out of bed and headed downstairs, determined to eat everything in the house.
When I walked into the bright, sunny kitchen, I could tell something wasn’t right. My mom basked in the sunlight at the table in her robe, drinking coffee and reading the paper.
“Hi, Mom.”
She turned to me in surprise. “Good morning, Finn! What got you up so early?”
I checked the clock on the microwave—six thirty-seven. I should be almost comatose. I shook my head in dismay.
“I just woke up starving.”
“Well, let me get you some breakfast.”
While she made me eggs, bacon, and toast, I wolfed down a couple of bowls of cereal. I didn’t declare victory in my personal war on hunger until I had devoured four more eggs and four pieces of buttered toast. The resulting flow of energy through my body was heavenly.
Mom gawked at me as I scarfed everything down without pause. “What’s gotten into you with all this eating?”
Part of me vaguely knew my appetites had grown larger than one body could normally account for, but I hadn’t had the time to wonder why until now.
Spring gave me the answer, which was obvious once I considered it. Healing takes a lot of energy.
I said to my mom, “I think I burned a lot of calories when I tried to heal Dad.”
She paused to consider this for a moment and then snorted. “Our lives have become so strange.”
“Tell me about it.”
As it turned out, she had to go to see our insurance rep to try and get some money flowing for the house. I declined to go with her. I needed a bit of a chance to slow down and catch my breath.
“I want to go visit dad this morning. You mind if I ride my bike over to the hospital?”
“Yes I mind, you are not going anywhere until we get to the police station and see if we can’t get them to take this more seriously. That boy needs to get a psychiatric evaluation.”
“Oh, right… Mom, I really think you are making too big of a deal about this. Besides, I’ve been taking lessons from Uncle Mark. I can defend myself.”
She glared at me. “You’ve had what? Two lessons?”
I looked down at my hands, “Three and, well, he did say I was a really quick student.”
“No. Ian Finn Morgenstern, you are not to leave this house without me. You hear?”
My irritation resisted being pushed out by my deep breath, but I finally bested it. “Yes Mom. I hear, and I obey.”
“You’d better young man.” She stepped over to me, grabbed me around the chest, and gave me a crushing hug. “I love you so much, mister.”
“I love you too mom. I’ll be good, I promise.”
“Okay, I believe you, now leg go. Don’t you know it’s bad form to break your mother?” She pulled away, looked me in the eyes, and said, “Maybe you are getting stronger.”
She headed out.
I sat down on the family room couch, and considered turning on the television, but didn’t. When I paused to take an internal inventory, I found that everything worked well, nothing hurt, my hunger was sated, and things made sense. For the first time in what seemed a long, long time, I wasn’t swimming through a pool of exhaustion. The need to move overrode my lifetime of carefully developed sloth. Spring approved of that choice.
After fighting with the door, I went out back. The coppery smell of the blood was overwhelming and nasty so I moved away from the tree stump and away from the pile of timber that now occupied our side yard. Our back yard was rapidly turning into an oak forest. As Detective Hunter had informed me, some of the trees, all less than a month old, were now taller than me.
I didn't want to think about it further right now, so I narrowed my focus down to my physical being.
The cool morning air invigorated me, and I did a few stretches and jumped into practicing what my uncle had taught me. Those lessons seemed to have happened in another life. The swift movements and the exertion exhilarated me. Who was I and what did I do with Finn?
Up to that point in my life, I don’t remember ever getting an exercise high, but that morning, I understood what all the fuss was about. I could feel the strength in my muscles, and the quickening of the blood through my body made me feel alive.
I must have whipped past life's ‘Too Much Fun’ limit, because Erik appeared from nowhere.
“Hey, dickweed! Practicing to see who else you can kill?”
Adrenaline shot through me and fueled my jump. Fear followed the adrenalin and left me shaking. “Erik, get out of here before I call the cops, you fricking stalker. What hell are you doing here anyway?”
Spring piped up in my mind, Kill him, This One, he is too dangerous to let live!
She had a good point, but I felt more contempt for Erik than anything else. He didn’t scare me anymore.
Erik leered at me. The still-healing cuts and bruises on his face made his nasty smile even more sinister than normal. My stance on the whole fear thing came up for reassessment.
“Oh, I’m just doing my duty as a good citizen and dealing with the trash. I knew something was wrong with you, Morgenstern, a white guy hanging around with those darkies. Bats don’t just shatter on someone’s arm, and nobody can heal that fast. Somehow, you got to my friends and you poisoned them into turning on me. It wasn’t until I saw you and your bloody sacrifice that I knew what you really are—witch!”
Oh crap. “You’re insane. I’m not a witch, Erik! I’m just a regular guy.”
He sneered. “You may have everyone else fooled, but not me. I saw your little pet demon. I saw it crawl back into you.”
I lifted my hands. “Think what you sound like, Erik. That’s just crazy talk. Besides, you can’t be here! There’s a restraining order against you!”
“Ask me if I care,” he said with a wicked leer. He strode around me, his fists swinging at his side. “God has said, ‘Thou shalt not suffer a witch to live,’ and I’m just doing his will.”
The guy had lost it. I started to back away, but Spring didn’t like that.
This One, you must kill him! He will hurt you if you don’t.
Spring, I can’t kill him. I doubt I can even hurt him. He’s way stronger than me. Look at his arms! But, I bet I can run faster than him.
The moment I thought that to Spring, I decided it was a good plan. Still facing Erik, I took a preparatory step back, ready to run. Unfortunately, as they say, ‘The best laid plans of mice and [Finn] oft go awry.’
Erik pulled a small gun from behind his back and pointed the barrel at me. His eyes glittered with crazy, and his smile turned triumphant. My brilliant strategy was pretty transparent, I guess.
“Go ahead and try to run, Morgenstern. Do you think you can run faster than my bullet?”
I thought I was scared before. I was wrong. Shocked into immobility, I just barely avoided peeing myself. Bumbling words tumbled out. “Erik, don’t do this! You can’t do this!”
“Oh,
yes I can, Devil worshiper. You’re not going to perform any more satanic rites! I’ll be a hero.”
Spring made an observation. That gun is very small. I don’t think it can hurt you.
Oh, yes it can! I sent her an image of a bullet tearing through my flesh.
She had one response. Oh… then you must kill him before he can shoot!
One cement-weighted foot after another, I backed up again and scrabbled through my brain for anything I could do to stop Erik. Inspiration flew out my ass.
“Erik, if you kill me, I’ll send all the demons in Hell after you.” And, of course, my luck insured he was a fan of Dirty Harry movies.
He snarled and said, “Go ahead. Make my day… punk.”
BANG.
The popping sound of the gun registered at the same time something punched my arm. I gaped down at my arm to see a spreading circle of blood on my shirtsleeve over my bicep. It didn’t hurt at first, but I had the gut-dropping knowledge that it would hit me soon, and hard.
I don’t know who it surprised more, Erik, or me. We exchanged wide-eyed gazes, and in that instant, I knew he would shoot me again and wouldn't stop until I was dead or he ran out of bullets.
Instinct, driven by fear and adrenalin, took over. I dove to the ground just as another shot cracked through the air, but felt no corresponding punch as I rolled and came up in a crouch. I faked to my right, and when he tried to adjust for it, I sprang at him with all the power I could push into my legs.
I smashed into him, and we went down. He dropped the gun, and we rolled around on the ground, each doing our best to hurt the other. Strength flooded my limbs, and I had the upper hand. Avoidance of pain was my number one priority. After some frenzied struggling, I got my arms around him and pinned his arms to his side. I pushed with my legs and rolled him onto his back with my head pressed next to his. Hot breath hit my ear, and the sour odor of fear and sweat infiltrated my nose. Then, his teeth sank into my neck.
I jerked away and stood up. His gaze held nothing but savagery and hatred. As he scrambled up and lunged at me, I could see his trajectory and snapped a kick right into his face.
The Dryad's Kiss Page 33