What Lies Beyond

by B. B. Palomo

  “Wait,” I said, thinking back to my childhood. “I’ve never been sick. Not really, at least.” If you didn’t count recently.

  “Never, since,” Mom corrected. “If what you’re saying is true,” she muttered, pacing around the kitchen. “Then I’m worried you’re in danger. Your dad never shared the details. I don’t know what the price was, but if this happened, it hasn’t been paid.”

  “Mom, you’re scaring me,” I said, trying to understand her ramblings.

  “You don’t have to believe me,” she stopped suddenly, taking giant steps toward me. Noah instinctively grabbed ahold of my arm, feeling the need to protect me from my suddenly manic mother. “But you need to stay as far away from this stuff as possible. No more trying to contact your dad. You’re beholden to them, and they will come to collect!”

  “To who?” I cried, shifting farther into Noah.

  “I-I think I need to lie down,” she said suddenly. The color had drained from her face, and a bead of sweat ran down past her ear. “I’m not feeling so well.”

  “Should we call someone?” Adira asked when Mom leaned on her for support.

  “No.” She shook her head before walking past us to get to her room. “I’ll be fine. Go see Grammy. Tell her I sent you and you need to rebuild your walls. She’ll understand what it means.”

  The harsh click of her door cast us all back into an uncomfortable silence. I was having an existential crisis. On the one hand, I wanted to chalk this up to her losing her mind and embarrassing me in front of my friends. On the other, I was pretty sure I’d just been possessed by the very things she was saying I was indebted to for my existence. Furthermore, never in my entire life had she ever recommended I reach out to my grammy, always insisting she was more harm than good.

  A wet slap against the floor pulled me from my thoughts. Noah had moved, clearing glass and debris from the ground as Adira laid every towel we owned onto the puddles around the house. I shot out of my chair to help, guilt making me nervous around people I’d known for what now seemed like a lifetime. The sudden movement made me hiss as hot irons scorched my back.

  “What’s wrong?” Noah rushed back, dropping the pan of shards to the floor.

  “My back,” I cried. “I think I just twisted it or something.”

  “Let me see.” He lifted the fabric from my skin carefully. “Oh my God! Willow, this isn’t just twisted!”

  Adira rushed over to see, adding, “I think you need to see this.”

  They ushered me to the bathroom, where the only solid piece of glass remained. They each lifted my shirt higher as I turned around, trying my best to cock my head to the side to see what they were referring to. I gasped when I saw it. The long, angry scratches on either side of my spine. Some places were barely pink like the grip wasn’t adequate, where others were pressed deep into the skin, desperate to use me as an anchor.

  “Oh my God,” Adira said once they saw it in better lighting.

  “It’s okay.” I forced my shirt back down, working hard not to wince against the sting. “I’m okay,” I said again when no one looked convinced. “You guys don’t have to stay here.”

  “Willow,” Adira tried to argue, but I shoved my hand up in the air to cut her off.

  “I mean it, this is”—I shrugged, forgetting the cuts already—“nuts. I could never ask you to stick around. You’d be endangering yourself. Hell, I don’t even know that I’d want to. This is more than you signed up for when you became my friend. I’d understand. We could cut ties, and there would be no hard feelings—”

  “Shut up,” she said, cutting me off.

  “You’re not getting rid of us.” Noah gripped my chin, eyes boring into mine. “It’s not that we’re stuck with you—”

  Adira’s hip bumped him out of the way, sending him reeling toward the tub, where he barely caught himself before tearing the curtain off its rod. He shot her a dirty look, but she ignored him, replacing the hand on my chin with her own. “It’s you’re stuck with us,” she spoke in a husky voice, trying her best to imitate Noah’s. I laughed despite everything, swatting her hand away from me and shooing them from the crowded restroom.

  Lucky was an understatement at this point. I was sure they would have bolted as soon as they were granted the opportunity. Instead, they both went back to cleaning, refusing to let me help.

  Noah stepped out just long enough to get some boards for the windows, and we spent the better part of the night picking up as much off the floor as we could. We were limited with repairs, but as midnight rolled around, the house looked relatively normal for everything that had happened. I’d just sat down in the chair, ready to call it a night, when Adira came to stand beside me.

  “I don’t think you should stay here tonight.” Her voice was hard to read as the fear, stress, and disbelief over everything entangled together.

  “You’re probably right,” I said, looking at my mom’s door.

  She hadn’t come out once, and something stopped me from knocking on it to see if she’d answer. Everything was messed up, and I didn’t know how to fix it. I decided to give her space. Not only did I not want to push her, but if there was any validity to what she was saying, I wanted to keep it far from her. She had to stay safe.

  I packed an overnight bag that Noah caught before I could swing it over my shoulder and add insult to my very angry injury.

  “I’ll be carrying that.” He lifted it easily, even though it seemed heavy to me. “Come on, Adira,” he called to her from the hallway as I followed. “We’ll drive you home.”

  Adira was half asleep by the time we rolled up to her mammoth of a house. The gate was already open as we passed through to the wraparound driveway, illuminated by expensive lighting sticking out from the grass. In the middle was a stone fountain, stilled in preparation for the winter months. A steel chandelier hung in front of the iron-designed double doors, bouncing golden yellows off the white columns lining the front of their house. The out of place but well-known truck came to a screeching halt at the foot of the stairs. The floodlight was flipped on at the side of the house, but other than that, it appeared the whole place was sleeping, it not being overly unusual for Adira to come home late, or not at all.

  “I guess that’s a wrap.” Adira yawned, stretching her long arms out before pushing the door open. The breeze that flew in made me snuggle closer to Noah, soaking up some of his body heat.

  “I’ll.” I paused, all the sudden worried. “I’ll see you tomorrow, right?”

  She tilted her head to look at me, an incredulous look crossing her face. “Of course not,” she replied simply, and my world fell. “Tomorrow you’re gonna go see Grammy. I’ll see you Friday, and, Willow?”

  “Yeah,” I whispered.

  “My friendship is not fragile.”

  I was glad she shut the truck door and waved goodbye before disappearing into the house. Otherwise, she would have chastised me for shedding unnecessary tears of relief after she confirmed, once again, our friendship wasn’t over. The rest of the drive was relatively quiet, aside from the short sniffles I was trying to suppress. Noah must have known I needed to just be because he didn’t try to console me further than keeping a strong arm around my shoulder.

  Fatigue pulled my eyelids lower, for them to only spring up when an unfamiliar bump in the road jarred us in the cab. The drive seemed to take forever, but I knew Adira’s home wasn’t far out from town, nestled between us and the big city. I was dragging my feet as we parked and make our way to the apartment. Noah still refused to let me carry the bag, but I didn’t mind.

  Sasha didn’t greet me at the door like she usually would. Instead, she kept herself under the couch with her beady eyes reflecting flashes of light as we turned the switches on. I figured I still had the aura of bad energy clinging to my shirt. I wasn’t sure if I could wash it away or if it would be a black stain on my existence forever. Regardless, it was a worry for another day.

  I bum-rushed the bed, throwing myself onto i
t with a force that knocked the wind from my chest. My back screamed in protest, begging me to mend the wounds from an unreliable day, but the motivation had long slipped away from me. My body reeked with the sludge of anger and fear, seeping into the delicious scent of Noah’s sheets, stealing it with ease, so I sucked in the last few breaths of safety I could before they were gone. I’d clean the linens tomorrow and myself. Hell, I’d even get up and do it in a few hours, but nothing, no, even the smell of tea brewing in the kitchen, was going to remove me from this bed now.

  I groggily heard Noah moving about the apartment, unaware of his precise whereabouts but sure, every few minutes, he was peeking his head through the door to make sure my chest was still allowing oxygen in. I had just started to slip away when the slight tug of my shirt reminded me that even if I didn’t care about the injuries, Noah was going to. I groaned, hoping it would deter him, but as if he knew I was attempting a silent coup, he reprimanded me sweetly.

  “It doesn’t matter what you’re gonna say.” He removed the rest of the fabric from my back. “It doesn’t even matter that you’re literally taking the entire bed or that your funk is probably going to soak into the mattress.”

  “Hey,” I whined into the pillow, but he continued.

  “What most certainly matters is that this doesn’t get infected,” he said.

  My defeated sigh was followed almost immediately by a hiss as the alcohol-drenched cotton ball made contact with my skin.

  “Ow.” I bit into my lip.

  “I’m sorry.” He pulled it from my skin, and I could almost picture the conversation in his head over if it was worth it to continue.

  “It’s okay,” I assured him even as my brain was screaming to stop. “The first is probably the worst one.”

  Boy, how wrong I was. It stung the entire time, even as Noah blew soft air onto my cuts to try to alleviate the sting. Each dab was like tiny fire ants invading my flesh, working to carve out a new home for their queen. Once it was over, I was drenched in sweat and thankfully numb as Noah applied bandages over the deeper scratches.

  “Noah,” I said breathily.

  “Hmm,” he responded, working hard to get everything just right.

  “I meant what I said earlier,” I said.

  He didn’t say anything for a few moments, instead pulling the sheet up enough to keep me warm. He slowly packed the first aid kit, the metal tin clinking, and he closed the latches and secured the leftover contents. I waited nervously, unsure if I was scared he was reconsidering his options or afraid that he wasn’t and not seeing how staying near me could put him in danger. I knew I was selfish to want to keep my friends close, that any normal person would have abandoned them for their own good. I didn’t have that strength, though, too reliant on the comfort they provided me, so all I could do was give them the out and see if they’d take it, preserving themselves from my destruction.

  Finally, soft lips teased the tender skin of my temple as the bed dipped on both sides of my body.

  “I did, too.” He moved the hair that had fallen into my face. “And one of these days, you’re going to have to come to terms with that.”

  Chapter Seventeen

  Noah pulled the truck into a long gravel driveway, lined by mature, domineering wild trees, which had seen the surrounding area’s history long before our town was founded. I had the faintest recollection tickling the outskirts of a memory I’d long tucked away, making everything old and new in the same breath.

  Grammy’s house kissed the fringes of civilization, sitting on a private lot of about five acres, but with no other residences near it felt closer to twenty. It was tucked inside thick, oranging maple trees, contrasting against the species at the entrance. Priming for a harsh winter, the trees had begun dropping their greenery to save themselves as the sun was locked behind gray clouds more frequently.

  We stepped out of the truck into a whispering breeze that rushed through the remaining leaves and blew the ones that had already fallen across a rickety porch.

  The house was quaint and cozy, its A-frame drawing my eyes up to two different architectural points. I knew from my mother there were no more than two rooms, something she complained about during the rare occasion she discussed her childhood. Looking at it now, the space couldn’t have allowed for much more than that.

  Grandpa had died from aggressive cancer before I was born, but the house's maintenance didn’t appear to falter. I found myself wondering if she did it herself or if she had hired help. Of course, that was assuming anyone would be willing to employ themselves to the village crazy lady.

  Besides the slight curvature of the weathered porch, the dark wood that made up the cottage walls was in great shape considering its age. The foliage had been cut back from the property to ensure it didn’t invite termites to the timber structure and freshly cut logs piled high next to the front door. The stone chimney was erected from the back of the house, smoke billowing from the opening and disappearing into the sky. I didn’t think Grammy had a heater, so it made sense she was already utilizing the fireplace to warm the house.

  I reached for Noah’s hand as we approached the steps leading up to the wooden front door. The iron caged light next to the window shined bright, even though the sun hadn’t begun to stoop under the tree line. Wooden boards creaked under our weight, likely giving away our arrival if the tires from the truck hadn’t already. A squirrel, hiding under the planks, took to the grove, scurrying up the dried trunk, which knocked slivers of bark off as it ran into a hollowed hole.

  I was nervous.

  Aside from the brief glance at Dad’s funeral, I’d not seen her in years. However, it wasn’t as if I was meeting a stranger. Sure, she and I never got an opportunity to get close as her and my mom’s relationship deteriorated, but the few memories that trickled through showcased her as kind. Not near as awful as she was made out to be. Quirky, yes, but evil? Hardly by my standards as of now. Pretty sure I was winning in that department.

  Noah knocked on the door when I hesitated, sealing our fate so I couldn’t book it in the same direction as my furry friend, suddenly needing to hide as well. Rustling snuck under the door from somewhere inside like Grammy was tidying up before she came to greet us. The brass handle turned and the woman I faintly remembered appeared.

  Petite in every direction, she had a natural perm that I’d seen my mom pay for a time or two. Based on pictures, Mom had inherited her hair color from my grandpa, where Grammy had deep caramel locks that had grown to a shiny silver over the years without the boxed dye that kept the older ladies in town so youthful and vibrant. It was pulled up into a top knot, little ringlets falling from the elastic band that held it there. She wore a long, billowy dress, the waist cinched with a jargoon jeweled belt. The ruffled turtle neck was black, but it faded down into rainbow colors until it reached her feet. The sleeves were cuffed at the wrists, clasped together with a matte black rose link. I’d conjured up an image of her with arms full of bracelets, and when she shifted on her feet, I couldn’t help but laugh. Hidden under her sleeves came a jangle, confirming my mind wasn’t lying.

  “Willow.” Her eyes resembled a color close to my own and sparked with life when they landed on me. “I am so excited you’re here.”

  “I’m sorry it’s such short notice.” I pulled my hand from Noah’s to receive the hug she was already pulling me into.

  “Nonsense, dear!” She pushed me back a bit to get a good look at me. “You’re welcome anytime.” Her eyebrows pulled in slightly, and I couldn’t help but wonder what she saw. Did I look different than the Willow she imagined me to be? “Come in. You’ll catch a chill.” She stepped back to let us through. “Noah, you’re even more handsome than I expected—what?” She quickly added when I shot her a get your own man look.

  If I thought my house reeked of herbs, it was nothing compared to Grammy’s. I instantly knew sage had been burnt recently, but unlike home, there was a mixture of aromas I couldn’t put a name to. Each corner had a dif
ferent scent that merged in the center as if called there by an unspeakable force, combining to create a pungent bouquet of something that I could only describe as a sweet spice. As I stepped through and the air entered my nose, a deep throbbing started at the base of my neck. It was manageable at first, but within a second a web of agony spread across the back of my skull, settling right behind each eye. I rubbed dancing flares of white to them from disrupting my vision, but in turn just made myself dizzy.

  Warding stones were placed on the countertops and cabinets around us. Each one was unique in its cut and jagged edges, even as some shared similar coloring. I knew from experience they would have different uses and meanings but always placed to allow for the energy to work simultaneously. Blue glass bottles were used as vases, filled with plants and things I’d decided not to get close enough to see clearly because they looked...questionable.

  The space was set up like a more sophisticated version of Mom’s office. Instead of looking thrown together in an attempt to embrace what people believed a psychic’s home to look like, Grammy’s had functionality and a clear reason for everything and its place. A type of witchy feng shui that was supposed to draw in positivity and expel negative energies.

  I sauntered to a swede couch with a crocheted blanket thrown over the top as an accent. The oranges and reds blended into earthy tones stitched into waves. The colors contrasted nicely against the forest green of the love seat. I expected it to be soft, but when I reached out, the yarn was scratchy against my skin. The cushions spring pushed back as I sat down heavily. Noah followed suit, sitting farther from me than I wished he had. Before I could teasingly complain, Grammy offered pleasantries.

  “Did you guys want something to drink?”

  “No—”

  “I’ll take some water.” I interrupted Noah. “And aspirin if you have it, please.”

  “Sure.” She smiled, her voice tender. “I’ll be right back.”