by Amber Kizer
Rumi wiped his eyes. “If it’s possible to be a Paraclete, a comforter, to Faye with this truth? No refusal from me. But I know Faye. And Gus. For years. They’re rara avis, rare souls, and only good for our esprit de corps, our group spirit.”
Tony and Tens nodded their agreement.
Juliet simply waited, looking to me for my approval or disapproval. When had I become the final say? “I—”
Nelli turned to me again. “When you explained Fenestras to me, you spoke of a duty to assist a soul’s transition. Right? Don’t you think peace beforehand is as much that duty as being the Window?”
She was right. Not only was I born to do this, but also I was called. Duty to the Light, to souls. If I’m to shepherd the world’s souls who come to me, why not deliberately be available to people I know? Isn’t that what I did for Auntie? For Charles’s spirit? My duty extended to my friends. “I do. I actually do.” But what if telling two more people backfired? How was I supposed to know who to tell and who to shield from us? I scanned the faces around me and knew they wanted this too.
Relief chased the shadows from Nelli’s face. “Good, I’ll go call them. I’m sure they can be here in time for dessert.” She leapt to her feet.
“Now?” I gaped at the dizzying speed.
“We can’t wait.” Nelli paused, shredding tissues in her hands. “I don’t think we can wait.”
I hugged Tens’s arms. He knew how hard it was for me to trust. Anyone. Even him. In a few short months, I’d gone from feeling alone and adrift with only conditional, judgmental anchors to being here with people who not only knew me, but also loved me. All of me. Even the hard parts. The parts that piled animal carcasses at our doors and windows.
I followed Juliet into the kitchen. “Are you okay telling Faye?”
She shrugged as she whipped fluffy clouds of cream in a bowl with a whisk. Aren’t there gadgets for that?
I tried again. “You have a say.”
“I don’t.” Her voice quivered.
“What do you mean?”
“It’s you and Tens and your Auntie’s words. Who am I?” Defeat saturated her words.
Surprised, I reached out. “Hey, where is this coming from? You’re my friend, my sister. You are important and I want to know what you think.”
Her expression tortured and tired, she lifted her eyes. “Have you been around the dying? Not those ready to die, but those whose bodies are being eaten, ravished, by disease? People who can’t let go?”
I swallowed. The pain in her eyes slashed at my heart. “No,” I answered in a tremulous voice.
“It’s the most powerless place in the world.” Tears glistened in her eyes. “I would do anything, anything at all, to keep my family from that.”
“Should we not tell her?”
“I’m not saying that.”
“Then what are you saying?”
“I—” She broke off, shaking her head as Nelli walked into the kitchen and peered out the window.
CHAPTER 5
“Juliet …” I didn’t want to end the conversation. Talk to me!
Gus drove the car into the alley as close to Rumi’s glass doors as possible. I watched Tony and Tens help unload a wheelchair from the trunk.
“Is there hope?” Nelli asked me, standing at Rumi’s back window, watching them unload and get situated. Gus lifted Faye out of the car and into the chair.
“I’m not clairvoyant, Nelli. I don’t know,” I said, trying to sound gentle and patient.
“But you see things.”
“Only when the soul leaves the body. Only when it tugs me toward the curtain between this and the next world.” What I didn’t say aloud was that my very human eyes saw a sallow, yellowing skin tone, white roots at the base of Faye’s very fake red hair, and a stooped, crushed frame. I don’t need to see the future to predict this one.
Rumi was our connection to Faye and Gus. We’d met them at a dinner party Rumi had held last February, partly to help us find Juliet and partly because that was what Rumi did—connecting the dots of the people around him.
This past year, Faye’s headaches had kept Gus at her side and well away from the Nocti bombardment of the Feast of the Fireflies. The terrorist attack took many lives and sent ripples of fear through Carmel. I shuddered, remembering the carnage and chaos of that night.
We all exchanged embraces. I’d learned this group was demonstrative. I no longer flinched and even tried to awkwardly initiate the affection.
“Rumi, be a love and turn down the lights. I can’t hardly make out the girls it’s so bright.” Faye’s voice trembled over the words.
We stopped midmotion, deliberately avoiding eye contact. If she was seeing light instead of, or around, me, she was dying. It wasn’t the sun or a lamp. And it isn’t her eyes that are the problem.
Tens swiped his sunglasses from the table and gently placed them on her face. “That help?”
“I can see you fine. The girls are standing in front of the sun. Tell them to move.” She patted Tens’s cheek. “Let’s just get this announcement over with. My lucky headache turned out to be cancer.” Faye’s graceful poise didn’t allow her to slouch in the wheelchair, though she held her right hand down with her left to stop the tremors. Her brave face didn’t betray any fear or wallowing. Gus took over, interjecting a false optimism that I called denial. “It’s not as bad as it sounds. There’s all sorts of things they can do. There’s a leading medical research center right here in town. You have to listen to them and do what they tell you.”
The them were doctors. Doctors who delayed death as long as possible but hadn’t quite learned how to prolong life.
With a sigh, Faye argued with him. “Honey, I can’t hold my violin. I can’t see to read music. I can’t even write my name. I’m not letting them poke me or poison me.”
“But you enjoy watching your shows.”
“Game shows and soap operas aren’t enough.” She whispered these last words.
Gus seemed kicked in the stomach. Gutted. He thought she was giving up. I understood the only thing Faye controlled here was how she handled dying, not whether she was.
“Marry me and I’ll make sure they do what you want.”
“Oh, Gussy, I don’t need you to bear that responsibility.” She shook her head. Her eyes gleamed while Gus, frustrated, sighed heavily.
I searched the faces around me. Juliet lifted her head and made eye contact. When she nodded yes to my unspoken question, Tony followed, then Rumi and Nelli. Tens leaned down and kissed the hollow between my neck and shoulder. His breath whispered over my skin and I nodded.
“Would you like tea or anything? We need to tell you something,” I said to Faye.
“I’m not hungry. And I haven’t seen you this serious since we first met. What’s going on?”
“Gus, would you sit, please?” I asked.
Tens wheeled Faye toward the sitting area.
I perched next to her. “Faye, can you please close your eyes?”
“What?”
“Close them, please.”
They drooped shut behind the dark lenses.
I needed to understand if she was seeing our light with something other than her eyes. Maybe her soul? If we darkened the room and she continued seeing light where no one else did, she might believe us. Worth a shot to demonstrate.
I held my hand out to Juliet, beckoning her over to me. Her hands were cool and damp and I felt her shiver a little as she extricated herself from my grasp quickly.
“Now what?” Faye asked.
“I’d like you to tell me when Rumi shuts off the lights. Okay? Tell me when he flips the switch.”
“I’m confused. Why are we doing this?” Gus questioned. “Bear with me,” I answered.
Rumi cut the electricity and the lavender of twilight filtered through the curtains. There wasn’t enough ambient light left to make out more than shapes.
“I’m not sure I’ll know with the sunglasses on.” Faye lifted a hand
and pulled them down. “Okay, I’m ready. Is it those new fluorescent bulbs, Rumi? Why do you need it blazing like the sun in here?”
I counted to twenty-five.
“It’s the cancer, isn’t it? It’s in her eyes? Her brain?” Gus’s voice quaked.
I brushed my free hand across Faye’s cheek, then tugged Juliet away from them. “Keep them closed until Tens tells you to open them, okay?”
Faye nodded.
I gripped Juliet’s hand and headed for the long hallway toward the bedrooms and bathroom.
When we were behind Faye and had closed the first door, we heard her say, “Oh my, that’s better. But you’re sneaky—that’s not all of them yet.”
“Open your eyes, Faye,” Tens mumbled.
“What’s going on?” Gus sounded perplexed. “I don’t understand.”
Juliet stayed close to me as we reentered the room hand in hand.
Faye snapped the sunglasses back on. “Can we leave them off? I don’t know why my eyes are so bad tonight.”
Gus’s voice dipped as he leaned down in front of her. “Sweet Tea, Rumi hasn’t touched the light switches.” He turned toward me. “Why does the light seem to belong to you? And why can’t I see it?”
“Because Juliet and I are Fenestra. Angel-infused humans who shift souls to the afterlife. We are the light for the dying,” I explained.
“No, she’s not dying!” Gus’s chin wobbled and his voice, though a shout, cracked at the end.
“Yes, I am. What did you call yourself?” Faye asked when she could find her voice.
I could almost see her trying to digest this as truth. “Fenestra.”
“Interesting. In many languages, a variation of that is the word for window,” Faye said with her head cocked thoughtfully.
I nodded. “We came first, but yes.”
“Do that go-away-and-come-back thing again.” Faye waved her hand at us.
Juliet and I repeated the process several times, each time witnessing Gus and Faye’s disbelief and confusion fade a little more.
“Like a sorority? A newfangled club? Why aren’t you invited?” Gus asked Nelli.
“They’re born this way, Uncle Gus. They’re special.” Nelli smiled through tears.
“You’re special.” He patted her knee. “You could do this too.”
That’s what families say to each other. Juliet’s face was full of longing before she covered it with a bland expression.
Nelli giggled.
Faye said, “I have questions. Rumi, you know about this?”
“Yes.”
“You’ve never lied to me. Never.” She wagged her finger at him.
“No. I’m telling you straight.”
“Angels appear in literature dating back millennia. We’ve talked about the nonfiction research about an afterlife before,” Gus inserted.
“I never believed it.” Faye’s expression was considerate as she held out a hand to me. “And you’re saying there’s something beyond this life?”
“I know there is. I help people, and animals, find their way there every day. I know it’s a lot to take in, but we have nothing to gain in telling you.” And maybe a lot to lose.
“They be speakin’ truth, my friends,” Rumi said.
“I asked them to tell you,” Nelli added.
“You knew?” Gus swiveled his head to meet her gaze.
“I did, but only after the tornado took down that terrible Dunklebarger place. I’ve been looking for more children like them.”
“Meridian and Tens came here to rescue me. Us,” Juliet said.
“And Tens? Are you a Fenster too?”
“I’m a Protector. I try to keep Meridian safe from—” Tens broke off. How much to tell?
“Don’t stop now. Keep speaking your noumenon, your truth,” Rumi insisted. “They can handle it.”
“There are others called Nocti, Aternocti, who steal souls from the Light. They’re the ones who blew up the Feast.”
“Not terrorists from a sandy land far away?” Gus gave a half smile. Unlike the public, he’d never thought the Feast of the Fireflies offered a big enough target to make any jihadist hit list.
“No, just evil.”
Faye sniffed the air. “Do I smell rhubarb pie, or is that you too?”
We all laughed.
“And sugar cream.” Juliet ran for the kitchen. Food was her language, her gift.
Faye wiped her eyes with a tissue and pronounced, “I think we should have dessert now and you should start at the very beginning. Suddenly I’m craving sugar.”
Tony served tea and coffee while Juliet piled dessert plates with slices of oozing dark cream, slick glistening fruit, and marbled custard wrapped in flaky crusts.
I cleared my throat and began.
Late that night, tucked into the guest cottage behind the Helios Tea Room, Tens and I curled up together on the couch listening to his new favorite music. He said it reminded him of me. I lay on his lap, heart to heart. I measured my breaths to his. Inhaled with the rise of his chest and exhaled with the fall. Open windows welcomed the cool breeze. Crickets filled the night air with fiddles and clicks. The occasional car putted by and owls told knock-knock jokes up in the trees.
I wrapped my fingers around Tens’s silky hair, tucked my head deeper beneath his chin, and kissed the pulse at the base of his throat.
He tightened his arms around my back, flexing. “Can’t sleep?” he asked me in a throaty rumble I felt everywhere.
I shook my head. “Did we do the right thing telling them about us?”
“Faye and Gus? I think so.” He smoothed my cotton tank top and tucked his fingers under the bottom hem, rubbing circles on my bare flesh. Goose bumps broke out along my arms. I held my breath, willing his hands to continue. We’d promised each other months ago we wouldn’t stop when we were both ready to make love. I was ready. He kept stopping.
I leaned up, my lips touching his, melting indulgently together. He tasted of minty forest shadows. I shifted my position on his lap. He lifted his head; his lips placed a soft comma on our kiss.
“What are you thinking about?” I asked when he frowned.
“Juliet is unraveling. She’s keeping secrets and spending too much time on her own.”
I nodded. “Where’s her Protector?”
“I don’t know. I think if she has one, he’d have shown up by now, right? Especially in March for her transition?”
That is the worry. Sure, Fenestras through time made do without Protectors. We didn’t always have a match. Charles and Auntie were a good case—he wasn’t a Protector but was simply a human who loved her and became her husband. They didn’t communicate telepathically and he didn’t know any of her feelings or experiences before they met. Auntie told us Tens and I were special. Us finding each other, sharing the destined bond we did—that was rare. Maybe it was selfish, but I wanted Juliet to have the same.
“Let’s practice again,” I demanded. You will read my thoughts this time.
“Again? I’m tired, if you’re not.”
“Please?” We’d started practicing telepathy. There were several journal entries that spoke of Fenestras and Protectors who managed to share thoughts and feelings. Since being together, Tens could only occasionally pick up on my feelings, and the random thoughts he grabbed were total coincidence. In his mind, all of my childhood seemed to have happened to him as simultaneously as reality.
I had to base my knowledge of him on the very human basics like words and body language. Even those I managed to muck up more often than not.
“Now, what am I thinking?” I asked.
He scrunched his eyes. “You’re picturing a pink hippopotamus doing pliés on top of a giant pumpkin pie.”
“Gee,” I giggled. “How’d you guess?”
“I’m good.”
“Full of it anyway.” I ran my hand along his ribs, finding his Eureka tickle spot. He bucked at me as our laughter spilled out around us. He flipped me over and straddled m
e, trying to pin my hands above my head. The lead singer belted out an impossibly high note that made my ears ring.
Ignoring us, Custos lay on the double bed, chewing on a piece of old tire she’d drug in from somewhere nasty. She insisted on gnawing the thing near my pillow.
A pounding at the door could have been anything but had Custos leaping to her feet with a low growl. Tens reached for the stereo remote and clicked off the music. Eerie silence invaded spaces left by the fading notes.
I rolled to my feet. “It’s probably Juliet.” I opened the door and glanced around before Tens had a chance to push me aside, to protect me from nothing. He’d stuffed his feet hurriedly into his boots, but I’d stayed barefoot.
Custos threw out a nasty, rumbling growl and brushed past me to march outside. She laid her ears back, lifting her guard hairs like she’d stuck her paw in an electrical socket. Behind her, Tens stepped in front of me.
My heart accelerated; my mouth cottoned. I huffed a breath. “I can’t see anything. Probably Minerva messing with Custos’s mind.” And mine.
We’d been here since January. With each passing day, Tens became less a lanky young man and more a full-on muscled man. In another year, his body wouldn’t be the same as the boy I met. It was like his frame finally figured out he needed to be built like a bodyguard rather than a swimmer on a restricted caloric intake. It didn’t hurt that he ran and worked out as if he were training for the Olympics. Actually, it aches a lot. He was under the impression I needed to join him. I wasn’t born an athlete and hated every minute of prepping. That was what he called it. Prepping.
He grunted in answer, his head on a full swivel. I half expected him to sniff the air.
“Tens?” I tried to shove him to the side, as my short stature made it nearly impossible to see around him. A piece of rope, or cable, on the doorsill caught my attention. I leaned down. “Tens!”
“Merry, be patient.” As he stepped farther out, his soles crunched on something. What?
“You’re standing on something.” Quickly, I flipped on all the front lights.
“They broke Rumi’s Spirit Stones.” Colors of shattered glass littered the porch. Not a single orb we’d hung survived.