All That We Say or Seem

by Cole Delacour

  "You’re asking me to bet my career - "

  "I’m not. We both know where I’ll be spending that time."

  Adjusting his jacket, he stepped back. "And what? I’m supposed to chaperone you to Crables? Wait until Cheyenne and Chad show up for that ridiculous vigil."

  "Probably not the worst overnight spent with a patient."

  Haggard fell silent, leaving only the buzz of Zeke’s needle as he finished the design to carry throughout the room. Back and forth, the professor paced. Questions haunted him as much as they did me, but I couldn’t bet on them answering him. I had mapped out the route in my head. I could get there. The busses would take a while to be informed, and I had my pass on me. Race across town. Wait until the flames and screams started. Reach in and pull Gray out. With him at my side, the professor couldn’t deny the truth, but I had to make it until then.

  When Zeke finally finished, pulling away to set his equipment to be cleaned, Haggard sighed, shaking his head. "I’ve already taken a risk bringing you here for that idiotic tattoo."

  "Then what else do you have to lose?"

  "Ari, he knew things - things only your brother would know," Zeke argued on my behalf.

  Holding up a hand, Haggard shook his head. "Don’t. Zeke, just don’t."

  "Rory didn’t kill himself."

  Something broke inside him at that. Like a puppet whose strings were suddenly cut, he sagged almost crashing down upon himself. "Nobody can know that. He overdosed. Accident or suicide, none of that matters. He’s dead, and indulging my student’s mental break isn’t going to bring him back."

  "But it could bring back somebody else! He wanted to save Gray. If James can do it -"

  As their argument enveloped them, I shifted, backing away slowly. Zeke had to know. Had to have planned this, but I had no time to appreciate the way he angled Haggard to lose track of me. Rory and he probably had years of practice, but the moment he did, I ran. Out in the cold air with only the hoodie in my hand. My body burned - raging with heat. Adrenaline - from what was to come. From the pain of the tattoo which itched and buzzed up and down my arm. Whatever it was, it inoculated my body against the cold, leaving only the long shadows and sudden lights of Boston between me and Crables. A scream - my name, and thunderous footsteps behind me. I could do this. Down the backroads, dodging between streets and climbing a wall blocking off one section from the next to drop down and climb onto a bus which rumbled off as I tugged on the hooded sweatshirt. Steel rumbled beneath me. Brakes squeaked as they released. I could do this. I had to do this.

  Chapter Thirty-Three

  My nerves buzzed, charged with a near indescribable panic. A few other riders huddled here and there, spread throughout the bus as it rumbled down the road, getting closer and closer to the manor. They had a map of the bus route. Sitting before it, I studied the roads, trying to memorize the smaller routes from the various stops to Gray. With his car and phone, Professor Haggard could easily send the cops to collect me, so I jumped off two stops early.

  Underneath my feet, the world spun. Tilting and listing as restless as a boat, but I held my balance as I raced through the back roads. The map hummed, fading faster and faster from my mind as hunger grew once more in my belly. Adrenaline could do nothing to stop its coming.

  Just a bit further.

  Lights flashed; yellow tape blockaded the front, and cops mulled about the front entrance. A small crowd gathered, watching from the street. Apparently, Cheyenne hadn't been the only one who considered this night a good one for a vigil, or maybe these people came here like a New Year's Eve tradition.

  Every now and then - somebody would set off fireworks. They whistled and broke overhead, and it would get worse at midnight. Louder and louder until midnight. Their booming roars deafening, hiding the screams as Gray burned again.

  "You better not have been responsible for this," a familiar voice hissed.

  Snorting, the guy standing next to Cheyenne crossed his arms over his chest. "If I planned on doing this, I wouldn't have shown up. This is a waste of my time. I'm heading home."

  Chad and Cheyenne. They were here.

  When Chad shifted, heading toward the train station to take him back out of the city, Cheyenne reached out, grabbing his sleeve. "Come on! Let's find a way inside!"

  "Around the cops?"

  She laughed with a shrug. "They won't even say why they're here. If we buy some of those kids some firecrackers or something, they'll get distracted and we can sneak around the back."

  Pulling up my sweatshirt's hood, I crossed toward them, keeping to the shadows, trying my best to look casual. None of the cops glanced my way, but that didn't stop my pulse from soaring. "I'm with Cheyenne."

  Whirling around, Cheyenne almost shrieked, but quickly, she covered her own mouth. Her eyes widened and then narrowed as they studied me before she whispered, "They're here for you, aren't they?"

  Chad snorted. "Why would they be here for him? Looking like shit isn't a crime."

  "Tom decided my not going home for Christmas deserved a psych hold." My mind screamed at them, begging for them to believe me. Trust me. Ignore the way exhaustion cradled my eyes. Ignore that I had run away from what amounted to a 72-hour nap and chat session.

  Cheyenne's gaze dropped to my wrapped arm. "James..."

  "Oh - no," I said, lifting the sleeve. "Just a new tattoo."

  Running a hand through his hair, Chad knocked off his hat. "Man, you've got to be freezing."

  "I'm fine."

  With a frown, Cheyenne huddled around, pulling Chad closer to angle them between me and the cops. "You're not acting like you. What's really going on?"

  "He's having a breakdown, obviously," Chad grumbled. "Question remains - were you headed this way before the hold? Or did Tom's concern push you over the edge?"

  I shrugged - helpless to argue against either. Not because he was right or wrong, but my eyes remained on the watch, waiting to see the first sign of light behind the dirty glass.

  Rubbing my eyes, I shook my head. "Chad - come on. You know the floor plan, right? There's got to be a better way in - maybe an addition? After the fire?"

  They shared a pitying look, and I couldn't - I couldn't just stand there and hope they would listen to me. I could see it. They had no intention of helping me as I stood now. Suspicion - concern - would stop them.

  Grinding my teeth, I clenched my hands into fists. Pins and needles stuck me between the cold of the winter's air and the heat of my rapidly beating heart. "Cheyenne, you know there's a legend that on this night every year - "

  "Theodore's screams can be heard from the widow's watch," she finished. With a tilt of her head, she considered me. "Apparently, the guy - Rory Haggard - thought Theodore could be pulled back out. Like he was in limbo."

  "Wait, Haggard? Like Professor Haggard?" Chad asked.

  Both Cheyenne and I nodded. "Yeah, his brother was the guy who supposedly set fire to the place and then overdosed."

  "But he didn't. I wasn't lying, Cheyenne. Ever since that lucid dreaming project, I keep dreaming about this place and everybody who died here - especially Theodore," I admitted, and while Cheyenne leaned in closer with curiosity, Chad rubbed his hand over his face. "I get it sounds crazy, but if I don't try, I'll always wonder. Isn't college supposed to be about going after crazy ideas?"

  Chad snorted, laughing as he cocked an eyebrow. "Don't try what?"

  "He wants to save him," Cheyenne murmured.

  "What?" Chad scrunched up his face. "Who?"

  "Theodore," she and I spoke in unison.

  His brows jumped, pushing up toward his hairline as he glanced between the two of us as if we'd just come out and told him we were bitten by zombies. "Okay, now you guys have put me in a weird position. I don't want to agree with Tom. Don't make me be the guy who agrees with Tom."

  "What are you even talking about? You've been messing with me all semester," I retorted as Cheyenne nodded along. "Goddamnit, Chad, I'm not asking you to believe m
e. I'm asking you to help me, and if you can't do that, just stay out of the way!"

  I didn't have time for this. I couldn't. I had to get inside the manor. Had to get to Gray. Out on the street, I couldn't hear. People talked too loudly. The fireworks came faster and faster, closer and closer together until I could barely hear my own thoughts - which made it all the more startling when Chad unzipped his jacket, grabbing me.

  Stripping off his jacket, Chad manhandled me closer to the building tugging the hoodie from me. "If we switch clothes, it'll be easier. We're about the same height."

  "Crap, Chad. Give me a second - I can - seriously?"

  He tugged on the hoodie then forcefully pushed me into his jacket, slamming his hat down on my head. "After this - you're going to go back with Professor Haggard. You're a freaking mess, man."

  "Fine, whatever," I grumbled, adjusting the hat.

  "Now...we just need someone to distract the cops, so we can jump the side fence and sneak through the kitchen..." His eyes slid over to Cheyenne.

  Shoving us back, Cheyenne huffed. "I get to be lead author on the paper for this."

  Which was ridiculous. Even if everything worked, nobody would believe it enough to accept a paper - especially not in a peer-reviewed journal, so I nodded, and Chad scoffed. "Be my guest."

  With a toss of her hair over her shoulders, she crossed the street. When she reached the other side, she stepped up onto the sidewalk - a particular chunk with the fewest people, but she fumbled, collapsing with a sudden shriek. The cops glanced up, and one moved immediately to help her.

  "Move it," Chad huffed, guiding me quickly around the back. None of the lights were on, and the black iron fence blocked all access, but climbing up on the wall, he dragged me to his side. "You first."

  My arms ached. Exhaustion and hunger warring in my body, but I hurled by body over, rolling into a crouch in the bushes. A moment passed and Chad fumbled down beside me. With one hand on the back of my neck, he shoved me around, keeping me low to the ground as we snuck along the side, dashing across the yard toward the door.

  The door opened easily enough - the lock broken by someone who must have come before us. Dust and mold clung to every surface. The same as it had been when Maddix, Cheyenne, and I had come for the seance. Nothing seemed out of place as we crossed from the kitchen to the back stairs.

  "So...you're going pretty far out of your way based on a dream." Glancing at me out of the corner of his eye, he waited for a response. I hated how he dug.

  "Yes. I'm gay. You were right. Congratulations," I spat.

  His eyes narrowed. "That's not what I meant."

  "I don't care what you meant, Chad. If all goes well, Gray's alive - and I've got to figure out how to deal with a guy who died in 1942," and there was too much to think about. So much that threatened to suffocate me just considering how much.

  But Gray would be alive. I dreamed of it. Yearned for it. The weight of him in my arms. Holding him close, kissing those soft lips, pressing him against my body, my hands sliding against his smooth pale skin. Just the thought of him had me heated. I wanted him. More than I had ever wanted anything in my life, I ached to be with him. To wrap him in everything soft and warm and wonderful. Hide and burrow into the blankets with my arms wrapped around him. Tuck him into my chest. Kiss his forehead and sleep - blank and dreamless, knowing how much better it would be to wake with him in my arms.

  From the back room on the second floor, we stayed along the walls - Chad following my lead - as I carefully avoided the weak and broken floorboards. He remained almost claustrophobically close - hovering on the periphery of my sight.

  "Do you think you're dating him?" he pushed when we made it to the main stairs.

  Pausing, I shifted, glaring over my shoulder. "I'm in love with him, and he loves me. If you're sticking this close, you're in for a show as the second he's safe, I can't promise I'll be able to stop from really feeling it."

  Another scrunched up expression. "What are you even - ?"

  Grabbing Chad by the front of the hoodie, I shoved him against the front wall. "I hear 'we're alive' sex is the best."

  "Whoa, man, I mean...whoa." His hands hovered - not touching me but simply showing me his palms. "If you can bring your boyfriend back to life, maybe leave existentialist fornication for after your psych hold."

  I huffed and shoved him back. "Don't screw with me."

  A bright light drifted across the window, and we both tensed. It came back, shining directly into the second floor window as a loud voice echoed. "James Madison - come out with your hands up."

  "What the hell?" Chad spat.

  "It doesn't matter." I pushed him back, running up the stairs. "Stay or go - I don't care, Chad. I'm not leaving without Gray."

  "Who the hell is Gray?"

  "Theodore."

  His eyes widened. I didn't have time to explain. Didn't he say he was going to help me? Why did he just stand there staring at me as if I had gone even crazier than he had thought? He should have realized. I loved Gray with everything I had. Love made men possessed. Protective in their madness, but I wasn't - I wasn't crazy, and as long as I could save Gray, that was all I wanted. To save him. I would do anything to make sure he lived.

  "I got this," Chad announced, and he fled down the stairs.

  "Whatever," I growled, racing up toward the watch.

  Sirens wailed, and fireworks boomed overhead. Lights shined, falling, or maybe I moved too far out of their reach as the shadows loomed on the third floor. The door to the watch grew closer and closer.

  And then the fire started.

  Chapter Thirty-Three

  Burning ash and cinder fell down as the roof crumbled. Screams echoed in the ruined manor, but they weren't Rory's. Down came the eaves. Wallpaper peeled. The rugs - too moldy and damp to catch, caked with debris. Whatever living creatures remained fled as I stumbled through the wreckage. Smoke curled in my lungs, but as the heat built around me, I could only see the one white door. Locked and bound. The last bit of wood between me and Gray.

  "Gray!" I called, shoving aside the mess - careful not to get too close to the flames. I had to keep the lines on my body safe. If the fire burned me, it might disrupt the markings. I couldn't risk it. Not after everything. Not after the I.V. and the blood and not knowing what would destroy us. "I'm here! Gray, I'm coming! Hold on!"

  As decayed as the rest of the manor was, the door to the widow's watch stood firm. The knob heated, but I had no tattoos on my palms. My fingers remained clean. Still, I wasn't an idiot. Chad's jacket would melt, likely stick to my skin, so I ripped off the hat - wool and damp from the slurry outside which had come and gone and come again throughout December. Jiggling the handle, I cried out, slamming my head against the wood. Locked.

  And that was when I heard him. Not exactly a scream. Something bloodless and bone-crushing - a wail of pure agony reverberated through the wood before something slammed up against the wood. Nails clawing. Gray struggled to get out.

  "Gray?" I called, beating on the door. I had to get through. He was right there. Right on the other side. Screw a lock. I would kick the door down if I had to. "Gray, answer me! Gray?"

  "James?" his voice, soft and panicked, reached me. Pierced my chest and squeezed my heart. How was it possible to love someone so completely? "James, you've got to get out."

  Shaking my head, I backed up and ran, slamming my shoulder against the wood, but it stayed solid. "Gray, I'm going to kick the door in. Back away, I don't want to hurt you."

  "James! James, don't! They'll get you! Just run!"

  As if I could. The first kick did almost nothing. With the second, the hinges creaked, but Gray wailed again. Smoke rose. Sirens wailed. Footsteps thundered, but I couldn't tell where they were coming from - I could barely see anything around the tears as I kicked again - slamming into the doorway only to stumble as it flew open - the lock ripped from the wall.

  On the other side, Gray stood. Dark hair tousled, ash covering his face. Hi
s eyes bright with tears which streamed down his face. He wore pajamas - soft pants and a plain long-sleeved shirt. Soft. Everything soft and small and slim, and my arms had never wrapped around anything so lovely.

  Pulling him from the watch, I buried my face in his ash-covered hair. "Gray..."

  His arms wound around me. Hotter, somehow, than the fire which raged behind him and around us. The wood creaked, and the air rushed through with the hungry burning, but none of that mattered. Gray stood in my arms. I had done it.

  One-two one-two

  No. No - no - no, this wasn't a dream. This was real. I had Gray. She couldn't take him from me.

  Then the knife slid into my side. Quick and cold and aching as I collapsed to my knees, Gray carried me down. His eyes shadowed and apathetic to my pain - although the tears kept pouring down his pale face.

  "Oh, little bird, that wasn't so hard now, was it?" Dr. Ose murmured, coming up from behind Gray. His fingers trailed over Gray's back as he focused on me. His dark eyes swirled. "Don't worry, Mr. Madison. You won't feel pain much longer."

  The man ducked, pressing his lips to Gray who shifted like a sunflower toward the light to kiss him in return. A shadow loomed over him. I should have seen it. Should have known. This wasn't Gray.

  "How?" I gasped, pressing firmly against the wound as blood dripped from the knife in Gray's hand. "She took him back. How did you get him?"

  Carreau - the master puppeteer - shifted Gray's body, back out of the kiss with the most serene contentment. "There's a reason she never left the watch, James." He had no right to speak with that voice. To make it sound bored and apathetic. "It took so much energy to get all those spirits high enough, but we just knew you'd be the one she'd come down to the first floor for - well, you and the little bird."

  "I'm not letting you kill him," I growled.