Echoes of Memory

by A. R. Kahler

  I might not have been able to see them, but I knew the ravens were there. Watching her. Watching me watch her.

  Ethan let out a sigh, which released the constriction in my own chest. Kaira didn’t wake up when he stepped in and placed the flowers on her nightstand, or when he knelt and put a hand on her forehead.

  “She’s still cold,” he whispered to me. Kaira’s breath rose and fell smoothly. She almost looked peaceful, if not for the darkness still ringing her eyes.

  A dozen different emotions seemed to play over Ethan’s face while he knelt there, his eyes intent on her. Concern, yes, but also hints of fear. As though my story had sunk into his marrow, and no matter how much he wanted to convince himself I was just crazy, part of him believed me. He was waiting for Kaira to transform into something supernatural and terrible. Or, now that we were faced with her—clearly fine, clearly not supernatural at all—he was scared of what I’d do next. He was wondering if I’d killed Jonathan.

  I stood in the doorway, torn between wanting to run away and wanting to rush to her side, force her awake. Now that I was here, facing the inevitable truth, I wanted the answer a whole hell of a lot less. Who are you in there? And what have you done with the girl whose skin you’re wearing?

  “Are you just going to stand there?” Ethan asked, and I started back to reality.

  “Sorry,” I replied. I wasn’t certain what I was sorry for.

  I shuffled over to her bedside, but I couldn’t reach out and take her hand. I couldn’t bring myself to touch her. Every blink, and I saw the damn hallucination. Kaira, her bruised neck imprinted on my palms; the hallways drenched in blood.

  I couldn’t tell which of us was the dangerous one in here. Maybe we both were. Maybe that was the problem.

  You’re being ridiculous, I thought. Then I sat down beside her on the bed and took her hand. Her skin was cool and her fingers twitched gently under my touch, not quite curling around mine but not shying away, either. Like any normal sick or sleeping person. I could count on my hands the number of times we’d actually touched. Why was it that every time, it seemed like a doomed experience?

  “What are you thinking?” Ethan whispered.

  “That this can’t be real.” Everything was too quiet. My pulse too calm. I knew what I’d seen last night. I knew I wasn’t insane. But in this silent room, that knowledge was distant. This was reality. And a girl breaking into birds didn’t fit into a quiet nurse’s office at the edge of the woods.

  He didn’t answer. Not for a while.

  “This can’t go on,” he finally said.

  “What do you mean?”

  He gestured to Kaira then turned the motion to brushing her hair from her face. “She’s just sick, Chris. She’s overworked and overburdened, and it burned her out. I don’t want . . .”

  “What?”

  He sighed and then looked to me for a brief moment before his eyes flicked back to her.

  “I don’t want you scaring her,” he whispered. “When she wakes up, I don’t want her worrying about what you thought you saw. She’s already been through more than enough. She doesn’t need to worry about magic, too.”

  “I was right,” I muttered. “You didn’t just want to see her. You wanted to chaperone.”

  “I never said that,” he replied. A little too late. A little too forced.

  “You didn’t have to. You think I’m a threat. I thought you said you believed me.”

  “I think you’re confused and that something strange is going on, yes. But I think she doesn’t need any more confusion.” He sighed again. “Think of what she’s been through. What she’s going to go through when she wakes up. I know this girl: She’s a martyr. If she thinks she’s even remotely responsible for what happened . . .”

  “All right, boys,” Bettie said. My heart jumped into my throat. How much had she heard? “Your minute’s up.”

  She stepped inside, and her body language was enough to let me know she wasn’t going to budge. Even if we hadn’t gotten any of our answers.

  Well, I’d gotten one answer. To a question I hadn’t realized I was asking. Ethan wasn’t on my side. He didn’t believe me. He might not have turned me in, and he might have believed that I wasn’t responsible. But he still thought he knew what was best for Kaira. He still thought he had to protect her from my overactive imagination.

  For a split second, I felt like I was balancing on a scale. One part of me wanted to tip into siding with him, into thinking he was right, that I was crazy and he needed to keep me away from her. The hallucinations, Heru’s promise of killing her . . . But then I looked at her, saw the shadows haunting her eyes. If I gave up now, she was as good as dead.

  “Thanks for letting us see her,” Ethan said. He managed to keep his voice cool and even. I didn’t think I could even if I wanted to.

  I debated staying back, demanding a moment. But I knew it was stupid. I needed to make sure I could come back here. Getting banned from the nurse’s office wouldn’t help anyone.

  “Yeah.” I picked up Kaira’s hand and kissed the back of her knuckles.

  She stirred. My heart stopped.

  “Chris?” she whispered. Her fingers tightened.

  “I’m here,” I said back. “It’s okay. I’m here.”

  “Don’t leave me,” she whispered, barely loud enough for me to hear. And it didn’t sound like a sick girl asking for company. It sounded like a girl who was scared. Just like the girl who had pleaded for me to save her last night.

  “I won’t,” I whispered back. I kissed her knuckles again. Ethan cleared his throat, but again, screw him. “I promise.”

  “Please,” she said. Then her fingers tightened and her body stiffened and she let go, rolling over and pulling the covers tighter.

  I wanted her to open her eyes. I wanted her to say more than a plea. But that was enough. She needed me. And I wasn’t the only one who had heard it.

  No one moved for a moment. No one spoke. I couldn’t tell if they were shocked she had spoken, or shocked I’d had the nerve to kiss her hand.

  “Well, looks like she’ll be better soon,” Bettie said. She put a hand on my shoulder. “But she needs her rest. She’s had a long week.”

  Grudgingly, I got to my feet and let her lead us out of the room. Ethan didn’t look at me the entire way.

  “Can I come back tomorrow?” I asked as we walked down the hall. While it was still fresh in Bettie’s mind—Kaira had reached out for me, and I had been there.

  “We’ll see how she’s doing,” Bettie replied.

  It wasn’t a yes, but it was good enough.

  Ethan stayed silent when we left the nurse’s office. I walked a few feet before looking back. He stood by the door, looking up to the sky like he was hoping for some sort of divine answer, his hands shoved into his pockets and whatever friendship we’d cultivated shoved into the past.

  He might have pissed me off in there, but it wasn’t my nature to hold a grudge. Life was far too short. My sister’s death had taught me that.

  “What?” I asked. I didn’t backtrack. This was my version of meeting halfway.

  He shrugged. Then he trudged the few feet between us. It felt like a minor victory, and that was just stupid. This shouldn’t be a battle between him and me. So why was I angry? Why did part of me want it to be?

  “You still don’t believe me. . . .”

  “I can’t,” he said. He shook his head. “I can’t believe any of this.” When he looked at me, I felt suddenly, terribly alone. “You need to stay away from her, Chris. None of this happened before you. Just . . . I don’t want her getting hurt.”

  “I wouldn’t hurt her.”

  “But this fantasy of yours would.”

  His words were so blunt, they cut off the ones that had begun to grow in my head.

  It’s not a fantasy, I wanted to say.

  “Go get some rest,” Ethan continued. “For real this time.”

  Then he turned and walked away.

 
That was when the other words came back into focus. The words I wanted so badly to force away.

  You’re doomed to hurt her, Endbringer. Worse than you will ever realize.

  Islington was surrounded by forests, and the woods were dotted with tiny cabins used during the summer months for camp. All of them were locked, but that meant nothing to a school of teenagers. Locks were just another challenge of living out in the Michigan wilds. Locks gave the illusion of privacy. Right now, that was exactly what I needed. I couldn’t go to my room, on the very good chance that my antisocial roommate would be in. I couldn’t go to a study room or to a studio. I needed to be alone. Truly alone.

  I tried to make my gait look natural, like I was meandering, when in truth I wanted to run full out. I followed one of the many paved paths that had been cleared of snow, feet shuffling along, hands clenched tight in my pockets. The woods were silent. No birds. No hiss of falling snow. I passed one couple walking the other direction, but we didn’t make eye contact or even acknowledge each other. They held hands and kept their heads down, and something in me panged at the sight. The memory of holding Kaira’s hand, of how right it felt. How warm. My fingers clenched tighter against my palms.

  I wasn’t going to hurt her.

  I was going to save her.

  No matter what Heru said. Or promised he’d do. Or promised I’d do. If he thought using my sister as bait would work, he was wrong.

  Bri was already dead and gone; even if she were a spirit, she would never ask me to bring her back. Not at the cost of another’s life. And I wasn’t an idiot—I’d read enough stories to know that you didn’t try to bring back the dead. It never went well for anyone involved. I had to save the girl who was still alive. The one I could still try to forge a life with.

  After a while, I veered off the main path and made a fresh trail through the snow. My feet sunk slowly through it, every step labored, but I was too distracted to care about the slush that spilled into my boots. I zigzagged through the woods so my destination wouldn’t be clear from the path. Then, once the trees shut everything away, I beelined toward a cabin.

  The exterior was traditional and wood and covered in mementos of summer’s past: faded dream catchers and paintings and names graffitied on the siding. The windows were boarded shut and the door appeared locked. But I’d been here before. On the nights I needed to escape, when I needed to stare at a wall and think without worrying about others coming in and asking how I was, what was I doing, did I need anything? I shuffled around to the back windows and pulled off a piece of plywood. The inner window was open.

  I shoved myself up and over the sill, slipping into the dark interior. Thin streams of gray light filtered through cracks in the window boards, but the room was otherwise black and empty. Perfect. I never thought I’d be so happy to see a place devoid of light before.

  There were a few bunk beds along the walls and a couple of desks by the window I’d jumped through. I sat down on one of the desks, my fingers fumbling toward a lantern there. I didn’t turn it on. There was a pack of cigarettes beside it, along with a lighter. I thumbed through the remaining cigarettes—there were three fewer than last time I was here, but that was fine. It’s why I left them. There was a sort of mutual respect among the rule-breakers, here. I knew there would be a handle of whiskey under the mattress on the top left bunk, and condoms and porn in the top desk drawer by the entrance. I was sure there were other gifts and common items I hadn’t discovered yet. Probably some left in recent days.

  But I wasn’t here for booze or sex. I pulled a cigarette from the pack and placed it between my lips, the filter cold and tasting like ash. I didn’t grab the lighter.

  Heru kept promising me powers. Powers that could raze the world.

  I’d seen Kaira break apart into ravens and fly off into the night. She’d found power. Even if it had taken her over. Even if it was keeping her captive.

  If I was going to save her from something supernatural, I needed to fight fire with fire. If I wanted to fight against Heru, against whatever was holding Kaira down, I needed to be on the same level.

  And the power that I’d felt in that earlier vision—terrifying though it was—seemed like just the thing.

  Heru thought he could control me. He thought I’d bend to his will. He didn’t know what he was dealing with.

  I reached into my pocket and pulled out my knife. My power was blood? Well then, let’s see what sort of power I could get from giving up some of my own.

  It was a small cut—just a nick on the tip of my thumb—and the moment I did it, I realized how stupid this was. I was cutting myself in a dark cabin in the middle of the woods. I was trying to do magic. Not, like, sideshow magic. Real, literal magic.

  It was insane.

  Then again, so was hearing gods speak and watching ravens take away your classmate. Maybe this was sane, in the light of all that. The light.

  I didn’t know what I was doing, only that now that the urge was there, something else was taking over. I brought my thumb to the end of the cigarette, smeared it with blood. I could feel every fiber that scratched against my cut flesh. I could feel my blood sucked out into the tobacco, into the paper. Humming filled my ears—the sound of my pulse, the sound of the silent woods. And the sound of something else. The sound of power. It vibrated like a low cello string, thrumming against my spine.

  I cupped my bleeding hand around the cigarette, imagined a light, a power, curling against my palm. A haze of heat. A spark. A flame.

  I inhaled.

  And there, in the dark, my blood blazed red, the tip of the cigarette flaring into life with a hiss.

  Smoke filled my lungs, heady and strong.

  The cigarette fell from my lips, rolled along the floor, but I was too busy laughing to watch it, to see the embers flashing off and fading in the cold.

  My laughter filled the cabin. I toppled from the desk, clutched my knees to my chest as I rocked back and forth on the floor. The floor so cold, I couldn’t feel it. I could only feel the heat in my chest. The tears flowing down my cheeks. The laughter that scratched against my throat—too loud, too loud, but not loud enough to drown out my thoughts.

  I wasn’t going insane.

  I wasn’t going insane.

  I had power.

  The fire. The blood. The smoking cigarette. This was real.

  And that meant the rest of it was real too.

  The gods were after me and Kaira. And if I wasn’t careful, they would make me kill her.

  I didn’t know how long I’d stayed in that cabin. I didn’t know how many times I’d cut myself, over and over again, until I’d gone through the entire pack of cigarettes and my hand was bloody and numb from cold.

  But there weren’t any cuts.

  Every time I used the power, my skin healed new and fresh. Only the blood and char of tobacco remained.

  I was high as a kite. The power . . . the power.

  It was like nothing I’d ever experienced before—stronger than any drug, than any hormonal rush. I felt myself grow addicted to it. As I sat there, legs crossed, leaning against a bunk bed, I felt the need to try again. The cigarettes were gone. I traced the edge of the pack with my thumb. Considered other things I could burn. I had more skin I could try. More blood I could shed.

  Life and death are your playthings. . . . There were other fires I could play with. I knew, somewhere, I could find a dead moth, a broken bird, more blood. . . .

  “No.”

  The word fell from my lips before I could force myself to action. No, that wasn’t right. I wasn’t playing with this power. I was training. To save Kaira.

  I didn’t need to play God. I needed to protect her from them.

  Angrily, I pushed myself up to standing. I wasn’t doing her any good in here, lighting cigarettes and staring into the dark and getting stoned on magic.

  But how are you going to actually save her?

  The thought came up unbidden, stopping me in my tracks. I stared out at t
he fading gray sky, night slowly seeping into the woods. Lighting fires was one thing, but how was I going to use this against a . . . what? Against Heru, sure. But I had no idea what was keeping Kaira down. I had no idea how to target the god or whatever that was keeping her captive.

  I had a power. And that power seemed pretty useless.

  “It’s something,” I muttered. “It’s a start.”

  Yes, came another voice. I shuddered at the words of the falcon, at the shift of light through the trees—a flare I swore was in my head. It is a start. You have opened the door. To me. To us. Use it, Endbringer. Use it, and let us in.

  “Never,” I whispered to the night. To the shadows.

  I pulled myself up and out of the cabin, not bothering to replace the board. There was a small urge in the back of my brain to set the whole thing on fire, to burn the whole place down.

  I didn’t. Of course I didn’t. But the fact that I wanted to scared me deeper than I could admit.

  I thought I was fighting against them. I thought I was finding an answer. Instead, the anger, the hatred . . . it showed that I was doing the exact opposite. Those weren’t my feelings. I knew they weren’t my feelings. But as I hustled through the woods, barely noticing that my prior tracks had been wiped clean, the anger seemed like the most real thing in my life.

  • • •

  “Chris?”

  Oliver’s voice cut through the silence and the fury of my thoughts. For a moment, I thought maybe I’d made it up—another hallucination, just one more tick in the “crazy” box. But then I saw his shadow approaching me from farther down the path. I bit back my anger and the thoughts from the cabin, tried to shift back into normal human interaction mode. Which, it turned out, was damn near impossible.

  “What are you doing out here?” he asked when he neared.

  “Thinking,” I said. “You?”

  He nodded.

  “Same.”

  He sighed, and that was enough to tell me everything I needed to know.

  “Ethan talked to you, didn’t he?” Try as I might, I couldn’t keep the bitterness out of my voice. He noticed. In the light of one of the streetlamps, his face suddenly became guarded.