Book of Revenge

by Abra Ebner

  “I’ll be back, okay?” The words were hard to say, my stomach knotted with anxiety.

  “Want me to go with you?” Wes made a move to get up.

  My hands flew out. “No. No. I’m fine.”

  Wes slowly sat back down. Emily and Jake nodded.

  I pushed away from the table and hobbled to the door, finding Max’s sadness had become so deep, so self-damaging, that he’d nearly taken the very fight from my soul. Looking like a crazy person, I flew out of the café and made my way across the street. Guided street light to street light, I staggered until the sign with the mortar and pestle hung over my head.

  I burst into the dark shop. “Max?” My voice was shaky and weak.

  I heard nothing. Roaming the room, I searched frantically behind the front desk. No one was there. Bracing myself against an old stool, I saw a narrow hallway that led deeper into the shop. I staggered along, hands gripping the wall for support. I was too exhausted to stand on my own, almost too exhausted to go any further. There was a door about five feet ahead of me that had been left ajar. A warm light glowed from inside, followed by the sound of sobs.

  Letting all my weight transfer from the wall to the door handle, I burst into the room, swinging on the door as it braced me.

  Max looked up with alarm. “Jane.” His face was so aggrieved that I forgot my own suffering.

  “Max,” I whispered, making my way toward him. Exhausted, I laid my body against his, his body hunched against a large desk. Paper and envelopes had been thrown all over the room—freshly disturbed.

  Max said nothing as he stroked my arm, his face strained with emotion I’d never seen from him before.

  “What’s going on?” I whispered, once some of my strength had returned.

  I felt his passion as he looked into my eyes, as he saw what he was doing to me. “I’m sorry. I couldn’t help it.” He’d managed to gather himself, hiding the signs of his internal struggle.

  My head slowly stopped spinning, and I glanced around the room. Bookshelves lined the walls, as well as glass beakers, pictures, and paper. I grasped onto Max’s shoulders and moved further onto his lap, needing to be near him in order to remain strong. He was holding something in his hand—a picture frame. I pried it from his grasp and turned it to face me. There was a figure within the frame. I was overwhelmed with the many elements of the figure that seemed familiar to me, though I’d never met the man.

  “Is this the Alchemist?” My eyes washed over and over his features, the very breath knocked from my lungs when the blue of his eyes cut right through me. There was an ocean inside the alchemist’s gaze, an ocean I’d seen many times before. “Max,” I whispered, able to put the pieces of emotion and visual evidence together.

  “He’s my father,” he muttered, refusing to meet my gaze.

  “Yeah, I…” To me it seemed so obvious, but to Max it clearly hadn’t. “You never knew this?” I asked carefully.

  He shook his head. “Why would I? I was told otherwise, made to think of Henry as my father since the moment I was born. If that’s all you ever know, why question it? Patrick was a man I didn’t meet until I was a young boy. I simply didn’t see it because when you’re young, your brain doesn’t work like that.”

  “Oh, Max.” I placed the picture on the desk and wrapped my arms around his neck.

  Max leaned his head against mine. “What I really don’t understand is that Greg found out about it, yet never told me.”

  I pressed my lips against his neck, his minty musk invading my nostrils and claiming my senses. “Of course he wouldn’t. Greg is a liar.”

  I felt Max shake his head. “No, I don’t think that’s it. I think he was protecting us—Erik and I. I don’t think he wanted us to find out and feel betrayed as he did. I actually think it was an act of love, not hate.”

  I sat up straight. “Then why did he try to kill you?” I protested.

  Max shook his head. “I don’t know. I just know that when he set the library on fire he didn’t expect Erik and I would be there, but we were. At that point I think he figured there was nothing he could do. Perhaps he thought that by killing us we’d never have to find out.” I felt his grip on me tighten, a thread of grief pulling from inside as it reeled toward Max.

  Max caught me as the feeling shook my bones. With his hand on my chin, he tilted my head up. Looking into his eyes, my lips lacked any sign of a smile.

  “I think…” I wanted to tell him he was being naïve, but I could tell it wasn’t what he wanted to hear. He was going to validate this in any way that he could. The thread of grief slackened, and the weakness once again washed away.

  Max brushed a strand of hair from my face. “But it makes sense. I’ve spent a lot of time wondering how a simple affair could drive my brother to such extremes. It didn’t seem to justify the crime. Knowing who Patrick really was to us changes things. Even I feel anger toward my mother… my father. They lied to us.”

  I had to be the voice of reason. “I’m sure your mother and Patrick did it to protect you,” I assured, my blood pumping with a flight of fear for challenging him.

  “I had magick, Jane. I wasn’t a simple human, but Greg was. Not only did he have to find out that his life was a lie, but he had to find out that he was different than me as well. It must have been crushing.”

  My neck steeled—my eyes wide. “You inherited magick? You’re a natural?”

  Max nodded. “Here, look for yourself.”

  He handed me a letter and I read it, my eyes scanning and rescanning the words. When the truth had finally set in, I brought myself to speak.

  “Perhaps Patrick lied to you, hoping you and Greg would both dodge magick? If that was the case, then believing your father was Henry begins to make a lot of sense. You would have been spared from the magickal world all together. You would have been safe.”

  “But we weren’t.” I felt him push me away from him, irritated that I refused to allow him to settle on a negative notion. “I would have wanted to know the truth. I would have wanted to love Patrick like a father.”

  I looked around the room, my teeth clenched with determination. “But you do. You did.” From what Max had told me, Patrick always loved him this way, even if to Max, he was just a teacher. “If he didn’t love you, he wouldn’t have taken in Erik after the deaths. And he left you all this.” I swept my hand about the room. “When all was said and done, Patrick did what he could for you, given the circumstances. It just took you a while to put the pieces together.”

  Max nodded, but I wasn’t sure if he was doing it to get me to stop justifying, or if he really understood and saw my side of it. I looked back to the desk where the image of Patrick lay. Max had the same jaw line, the same eyes. It was so obvious to me, and I didn’t understand how Max hadn’t seen it sooner.

  “I will move here,” Max added with determination. “I belong here.”

  I nodded, seeing his mind was made up.

  “I always felt like this wasn’t my place, but now I see that being human wasn’t my place.” He invited me back into the crook of his arm, squeezing me tight. “I really am home.”

  Wes:

  I mindlessly tapped my finger on the table, my head resting in my free hand. Jake and Emily were talking to each other as though I wasn’t even here, though I sat right between them. I would have joined in with the conversation, but it was boring mind reader stuff. My mind began to wander on its own.

  Where had Jane gone? Though I was over all that had happened in the past, I still wanted to make sure she was okay. We were slowly becoming friends again, and I was happy to see that. I flicked away a crumb that had been on the table when we sat down. The look on Jane’s face had been unmistakably distressed just a moment ago, and all day, really. I’d felt anxious because of it, and I felt some reservations about letting her go find Max alone. My instincts had grown stronger as I allowed the thing I was to consume me, as it nearly had this afternoon.

  Why was it that I’d had such a hard
time changing back? I looked at my hand, wiggling my fingers and thinking how uncomfortable I felt in my own skin. Before I knew I was a shifter, I often felt out of place. Knowing what I was now made me want to stay animal all the time. What if I did? Would I forget about my human world as I had before? Would I really forget Emily so easily?

  The faerie returned with our food, her hands full. As she set each plate down, it crowded the table.

  “Anything else?” She looked less than enthusiastic to take another order, simply asking because she had to. Her eyes stopped when they reached mine. She looked at me inquisitively, as though I were the spectacle of the two of us.

  “Looks great,” Jake replied.

  The faerie sighed and looked away, flipping her feathers as she turned and strolled back to the depths of the kitchen.

  I looked sideways at Jake’s food, surprised that it looked more appetizing than I’d expected. Sure, there was blood, and a lot of it, but it was dark crimson and coagulated like a spicy steak sauce, drizzled over a raw looking piece of meat. To me, it looked like an afternoon kill, something I had an increased hankering for lately.

  Glancing back at my own food, I noticed Emily staring at the same thing I had from the corner of my eye. Her face was creased and pale, her reaction a far cry from what mine had been.

  “Doing all right?” I asked, giving her a nudge, a smirk dancing upon my lips.

  Emily nodded, but it didn’t hide the nauseated glaze of her eyes.

  The door to the café opened, letting in the sound of street traffic outside. I looked up, anxiously hoping it would be Jane. A crowd of people blocked my view, but even if I couldn’t see her, I still sensed her. At last it was confirmed by Max’s ashy smell which rode on the ensuing breeze. The crowd parted as they were led to their table, leaving Max and Jane standing alone in the entry. They had solemn expressions, Jane’s eyes blank as she led Max to our booth. They slid in and Jane let out a sigh. Max crossed his hands before him, bowing his head without as much as a salutation.

  I put my fork and knife down, my food remaining untouched. “What’s going on?”

  Jane was the only one that looked at me. I knew she had an answer, but she motioned toward Max as though to imply it wasn’t her answer to give.

  I bobbed my head slowly, now sensing an edge in Max’s ashy scent. The smell of it was overwhelming, more so than the scent of the meat in front of me. It was bitter, and deeply hopeless. He was someplace that was very cold and alone. Seeing him this way was so different from the calm, confident Max I knew. In truth, it made me nervous. He had always been the rock, but now he was nothing but a broken man, and I didn’t know why. It was just a feeling.

  We finished our food, except Emily who hadn’t ventured to touch hers. Jake paid the bill and we all ended up on the street in the dark. I couldn’t help but yawn.

  “Well, shall we go?” I pulled Emily against me, feeling discomfited by Max and Jane’s somber moods.

  She nodded slowly, her eyelids heavy.

  “See you tomorrow at school, Jake?”

  Jake snapped his fingers and pointed at me. “You betcha. Need a ride home?”

  Emily was practically falling asleep against my chest. “No, I think I can manage. I tilted my neck, cracking my bones.

  Jake extended his hand to Max. “Max. Jane. Good to meet you, for real. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

  Max took his hand slowly. “Sure. You too.”

  My gaze skirted over Jane and Max, my eyes narrowed with curiosity as I changed into the lion. I urged a lethargic Emily to climb onto my back. Jane smiled and gave me a brush on the head, her fingers raking through my mane.

  “See you tomorrow, Wes. Take care of Emily for me.”

  I looked up at Jane, then turned and walked into the dark. I felt so useless when it came to helping her, but it wasn’t my place anymore. The best I could do was be a friend and try to understand anything she might be going through, even if I didn’t agree.

  Emily’s arms were wrapped tight around my neck, fingers twisted in my mane. Scuffing the ground with dirty paws, I looked skyward, just as the cry of an owl could be heard overhead.

  Emily:

  I woke in the dark of my room. “Wes?”

  No one answered me.

  I threw the coverlet off of me, sweat coating my body. My stomach growled with hunger after skipping dinner, and as hard as I tried to remember how I got home, I couldn’t.

  Sitting up, I felt weak, drained—craving. Not only was I hot, but my room was humid, a strnge thing for Colorado. I slowly stood and walked to the window, pulling the blinds and cranking it open. I let the cool night air stream in and across my face. Sighing with tired eyes, I thought I was seeing things as a shadow moved outside, ducking behind the bend of the house. My brows pressed together, squinting in the direction but seeing nothing. A dreadful shiver broke across my skin, making me think of Greg. I leaned further out the window, trying to crane my neck around the corner, trying to convince myself that what I’d seen was nothing, perhaps just the cat.

  “Emily?”

  I jumped, my grip slipping from the window frame. A firm hand grabbed me just before I tumbled forward out the window, pulling me back in. I thrashed against the contact, nearly screaming before another hand clasped over my mouth. His skin was cold and sizzling, like ice thrown on a fire. He let go once I was safely rooted back inside the room. I spun to face the intruder.

  “Emily, it’s just me.” Max loomed over me in the dark, hands in the air. His palms were blistered from touching me.

  “What just happened?” I demanded.

  Max’s hands healed before my eyes. He dropped them. “The lingering snake venom in your blood. It does that.”

  “What are you doing here?” I hissed, shrugging away the chill of that feeling against my skin.

  He knelt to my level to whisper. “I just heard you open the window. I wanted to make sure you were alright.”

  “I’m fine,” I crossed my arms over my chest, remembering that I didn’t have much more than a t-shirt on. “You’re supposed to be watching Jane, not me.”

  Max grinned. “You’re a part of Jane. So I watch you, too.” He said it in a very obsessive fashion.

  I snorted. “It’s all you think of, seriously. Get a hobby. Jane, Jane, Jane,” I mocked. His mind was all about it since the first day I’d seen him.

  Max shrugged and turned away from me, not giving into my attempts to fight. “Goodnight, Emily.”

  Just as quickly as he had appeared he was gone, a shadowy smoke dissipating in the air he once occupied.

  The room had cooled now, so I shut the window, being sure to fasten the lock. I glanced once more outside by the corner of the house; there was nothing there. I gave up and climbed back in bed, twisting under the covers to get comfortable. Resting on my side, I noticed that the stuffed animals that once sat in the chair across the room had been rearranged onto the floor. They sat in a semicircle, perfectly placed, but not by me. I lifted my head from the pillow, my heart jumping. The chair they were once in was empty, but a part of me believed it hadn’t been that way long. I swallowed, slowly crawling back out of bed and approaching the chair, warily keeping an eye on the stuffed animals at my feet. I pressed my hand against the fabric of the seat—it was cold, too cold…

  Greg cold…

  Max:

  After returning from Emily’s room, I resumed standing in my place in the corner of Jane’s. I watched her sleep as I always did, always have. Jane never knew I was here, had never felt me until now, though I’d felt her for longer than she could imagine. She was the one constant in my life. Everything else had turned out to be a lie. I wanted to be close to her in the way she desired—I desired—but I could feel the thread between us growing painfully tight, especially given what had happened on our visit to Winter Wood. I’d nearly killed her.

  I hated myself for it, more than I hated myself for not seeing that Patrick was my father. Despite what I’d nearly done to her,
though, I still wanted more. Right now the feeling to be with her was unlike anything I’d ever felt. I was addicted to her emotion. The danger of my duty to watch over her was growing fiercely challenging, and as I stood watching her, the reasons for distancing myself no longer made any sense. I just wanted to live.

  What I learned today as I held her fragile life in my hands was that maybe I could control it. I had felt this life of hers like it was a ball in my grasp, something I wouldn’t let go of, and couldn’t. No one had ever attempted what I wanted to right now, so who knew what the real outcome would be outside of rumor? I swallowed this notion, drunk from the dim light of the room as it glowed across her face and filled me with this aching yearn. She needed me too.

  It wouldn’t hurt to be close to her. I really believed I could. What had happened in Winter Wood was so sudden. The emotion had washed over me without warning, but even then I had controlled it. Being near her like this right now was an emotion I could plan for. It would be easier. I was strong enough.

  I pushed away from the corner and carefully paced across the room to the edge of her bed. I had longed to hold her as she slept, and I promised myself that would be all. It was simple enough. It was natural.

  I stared at her for a moment, breathing steadily. Gently, I gathered the nerve to lie beside her, distancing myself with a few feet of mattress. My movement was light as to not disturb her sleep, afraid that if she woke, her fright would cause me to break her. I propped myself on my side, breathing in her scent and tracing small circles on her coverlet. Her chest rose and fell with each lungful of air, feeding our soul as it burned somewhere deep inside her. I was doing well with this, and I commended myself on the success of the task.