Dark Calling

by McIntyre, Cheryl

  “Nick?”

  He pulls the shower curtain aside, covering his lower half. “What’s wrong?”

  “What? What’s wrong with you? You yelled.”

  “Cold shower. Sorry. Someone used all the hot water.”

  “Whoops, sorry.” Keely tells herself over and over to keep her eyes on his face.

  “It’s fine. I’m done now anyway.”

  “Oh, right. You probably want me to leave.” She laughs awkwardly. Backs out the door. Just before closing it, her eyes betray her and drag down his chest before making their way back up to his face that is intently poised on her. The door clicks shut and Keely laughs at herself. Funny that she may be facing death tomorrow, but today, she still has hormones. And apparently can still get embarrassed. Who would have thought?

  Back in the kitchen, she cleans the broken glass and washes the dishes. Finishes just as Nick is ready to go. They ride in silence to school. Walk side by side through the doors, but Keely feels very alone. Home room goes by slowly, as does her next few classes. As she heads to History, a nervous anticipation worms its way through her. If Bryon isn’t there, she doesn’t know what to do next. Go to his house? Call the police? Should she contact the Hierarchy? Not that she knows how, but she could go to Michael Lazlo and he could call the right people. He would take her seriously, she is sure, even if Nick and friends won’t.

  Nick stops Keely at some lockers near the door. “He isn’t going to be in there.”

  She squints up at him. Rubs her lips together. “How do you know that?”

  He takes a deep breath. Places an arm on a locker, blocking her from the room. “It’s him, Keely.”

  Can’t anybody just talk normal anymore? It’s like speaking in code or starting halfway through a conversation. “What’s him? What are you talking about?”

  Nick puts the other arm on the locker on the other side of Keely, blocking her from going either direction. From any passerby’s point of view it might look like an intimate moment between a boy and a girl, but from Keely’s perspective, it means she is about to get news she will want to run away from. Nick already knows this, anticipates it, and prepares for it. Always the Boy Scout.

  “I think Bryon is the one telling Apophis where you are, how to get to you.” He studies her face. Waits.

  Keely thinks this over. Her first reaction is just plain no. No way. But as her mind works, she sees how it could be possible. But Bryon wouldn’t, couldn’t do that to her. She opens her mouth to say as much, then closes it. She doesn’t truly know what Bryon would or wouldn’t do because she doesn’t truly know Bryon. She thought she did. She thought he was her best friend, but he turned out to be a hired hand. A baby sitter.

  No. In her heart, she doesn’t believe that. Her heart believes in Bryon. “I see how it seems possible, but I don’t think it’s him.”

  “I don’t want it to be true either, but I think it is. If we walk in there and he’s not there…”

  “That doesn’t prove anything. Something could have happened to him, Nick. I mean, think about it. Why if he was a traitor to the dark side, would he up and leave when the fat lady is warming up for the big performance?”

  “I did think about that. You agreed to give yourself up so why spy anymore? Apophis knows where to find you now if you don’t show up. But he’s got you so backed into a corner, he knows you’ll show. Bryon isn’t needed. He got out before he was exposed.”

  Keely shakes her head refusing to buy it until she has cold hard proof. She wants the smoking gun. “We are going to have to agree to disagree,” she utters and ducks under his arm and into class just as the bell rings.

  She takes her seat and a quick look around. He’s not there. But she already knew he wouldn’t be.

  “Hey, Dana?”

  Dana slides into the desk beside Keely. “What’s up?”

  “Have you seen Bryon?”

  Dana rests her chin on her hand and thinks. “No, haven’t seen him. He called the other night, Tuesday, said he was coming over, but never showed. Why? He say something about me?”

  “No. Well, I don’t know. I haven’t talked to him in a couple of days. Not since…Tuesday too.”

  “He’s probably skipping. Hope he’s not sick.” She rubs her nose. “Maybe I should stop by with some soup. Help nurse him back to health, ya know?”

  Keely nods no longer listening to Dana. Where is he? What happened to him? Keely looks back at Nick who stares at her somberly.

  How could she go tomorrow not knowing that Bryon was all right? How could she go without saying goodbye?

  Sometime, a very long time ago, Keely was once happy.

  That feels like another lifetime.

  Like another person’s lifetime.

  If she somehow gets out of this alive, she decides she is starting over. She will embrace who she is. She will not live her life scared. She will be happy again. She will smile every day. Laugh as much as possible. Spread this happiness to her friends and family. She will need to first make some friends, then she will spread the cheer. A new Keely. She mentally pinky promises herself.

  She is distracted with her idea to board the happy train. Too consumed with her worry about Bryon. Too caught up in her parents kidnapping. Too much going on in one person’s mind. It’s no surprise really that she is completely oblivious as Farah Fritz steps on top of her desk. It’s not that shocking that Keely doesn’t notice Farah step from desk to desk until her knees are right in front of her face.

  Keely stares at the knees in shock for only a moment before trailing up the frame to Farah’s coal black eyes glaring down at her. Keely’s lips part as she intakes a quick breath. Farah pulls a steak knife from the back of her designer jeans and Keely is sure this is it. She dies here, right now. No saving her parents. No goodbye’s to anyone. No happy new Keely.

  There is shouting. Screaming. Kids moving in chaos all around them. It’s all blurry and slow in her peripheral. She can hear her name coming from Nick’s lips. Knows he’s making his way towards her. Only, as fast as he is moving, Farah is moving faster.

  It all happens so quickly. Half a heartbeat after Farah lands on Keely’s desk, she shoves the jagged steak knife into her neck, all the way to the handle. Slides it roughly and quickly, slicing her own throat. Her eyes, that aren’t really her eyes, never waver from Keely’s. Never show emotion. Not until the very last moment when whatever Demon was possessing her leaves and Farah is thrust back in her body just in time to feel the shocking pain. A pain Keely remembers clearly.

  She gives Keely a helpless look as she drops the knife and grabs her throat. A second later she collapses, knocking the desk, with Keely in it, to the ground.

  Warm liquid covers Keely’s face. Runs into her mouth. Down the front of her shirt. Onto her lap. She is trying to kick free but she’s trapped under the tipped desk and a bleeding Farah. Air. She needs air. Just when she hits a full panic attack, Nick is pulling her away.

  They don’t stop. Out of the room. Down the hall. He picks her up, one arm behind her back and one beneath her knees. Out of the building. Into the car. He holds her in his lap. Down the street and to his apartment. He takes her to the shower.

  Nick turns the water on. Climbs in with her. Starts wiping away the blood with a wash cloth as the water pours over them. It turns pink around Keely. She thinks of her father.

  Nick utters soothing words that she doesn’t fully hear. Pulls her shirt off of her. It’s cold and sticks to her arms. He throws it to the back of the tub then unbuttons her pants. She has to stand and it takes all of her strength. The wet jeans are harder to remove than the shirt and once off, Keely sees pink stained skin and whimpers. Nick rubs the rag across her lap hard. Scrubs the blood away until the water sprays out ice cold and runs down the drain clear.

  “I can still taste her,” Keely mumbles as she trembles. Again, she thinks of her
father.

  Fourteen:

  Word of the teenage girl that committed suicide in front of her classmates made the news in the evening. Pictures of West Hunt High School flash on the television. Police hadn’t yet released Farah’s name and as Keely stares at the screen, she is relieved nobody outside of school knows her identity. Relieved she doesn’t have to look at pictures of a smiling Farah. A living Farah. Because ultimately it is Keely’s fault Farah is no longer smiling. No longer living.

  All her fault.

  “You are not responsible for this. You had no control over what happened to Farah.” Nick turns the channel. “You didn’t do anything.”

  “I know that I didn’t do it, but it was done because of me.” She shakes her head. “I just keep thinking… You have no idea how many times I wished Farah would just go away. How many times I hoped for her to get what she deserved. But she didn’t deserve to die. She didn’t deserve for everybody to think she took her own life.” Keely takes a shaky breath. “Imagine what her parents are going through. That is my fault.”

  “I see what you’re saying. I hear you, but you’re wrong. It comes down to this, you didn’t ask for it to be done. You didn’t make it happen. You didn’t know about it ahead of time. There’s no possible way you could have stopped it.”

  “I know, Nick. I’m just saying that I feel guilty because if I didn’t exist, Farah would still be alive. I can’t change the way I feel. It’s just the way it is. So quit trying to make me feel better because I’m not going to.”

  Nick hands Keely her sketch pad and pencils. “You shouldn’t feel bad for existing,” he says softly. He goes to the kitchen to make dinner. Bakes chicken because it’s the only thing he knows how to make with all this healthy food. It doesn’t take long to prepare, but he stays in the kitchen and busies himself, readying the rest of the meal. Keely has begun drawing and he doesn’t want to disturb her, fully aware that her sketching is better than a hug. Means more than any words he could say. Will make her feel like herself again.

  Keely looks up from her paper and watches Nick make a large salad he probably won’t eat any of. “Why does Lila call you Icky?”

  Nick laughs and looks over his shoulder at her. “When we were little, she couldn’t say Nicky, which is what my family called me. So she called me Icky and it just kind of stuck. Though that isn’t the version she tells. According to her, it’s because I’m gross. My story’s the real one.” He raises his eyebrows quickly, making them jump.

  “That’s cute. I like your version better.” She starts sketching again. After a moment, Keely looks back up at Nick. “How old are you?”

  “Nineteen,” he says as he pulls plates from the cabinet. “I’m one of the youngest to be assigned lead on a job. If it had been any different, you probably would have ended up with a fifty year old, no nonsense Guardian.”

  “I really got lucky then that I got such a young stud such as yourself,” she teases.

  “You really are. Look at all this,” he plays along, his hand doing a sweep of his body.

  “Oh, to think, I may have missed out. The horror of it.” Keely places the back of her hand to her forehead dramatically.

  “I have no effect on you at all?” Nick jokes, feigning hurt feelings.

  “Is dinner done yet, Casanova?”

  “Yes. You hungry?”

  “Always.”

  Keely stares at her plate. Always hungry. Farah will never eat again. She will never sit with her family at dinner and talk about her day. Never, ever again. And just like that, Keely loses her appetite. The sadness creeps back in and right behind it, the guilt. The big smothering blanket of guilt. She didn’t like Farah, not in the least. She had probably said she hated Farah a few times in the past year or so. May have even imagined Farah getting hit by the school bus on occasion. Definitely dreamed of her being as miserable as she made Keely. But now that Farah is dead, Keely cannot fight the fact that she is the reason. She may as well have held the knife in her hand.

  What makes Keely feel even worse is that the first functional emotion she was able to have, after fear, had been relief. She was glad it wasn’t she who had been killed. Grateful it hadn’t been Nick, or her parents, or any of her friends.

  So there it is. She is, in the end, happy it was Farah before anybody else. How does one live with that? Yes, she may as well have slit Farah’s throat herself.

  Keely doesn’t utter a word of her inner turmoil. Instead, she chokes down bite after bite of chicken. Smiles at Nick. Laughs when she thinks she is supposed to. Nods at the appropriate times.

  She couldn’t have fooled Nick.

  ***

  As the evening passes quietly, there is a static building in the air. A smell of rain brought through the window on a gust of warm wind. A storm coming. Funny how her surroundings often mirror Keely’s feelings these days.

  Thunder booms several times shaking the foundation of the small apartment. There is a blare of white outside the window as lightning streaks across the sky, once, twice, three times. Nearly touches the ground.

  “Did you see that?” she asks, turning her attention to Nick where he sits beside her on the couch. Before he has a chance to answer, the lights flicker several times. Go out with the pop of breaking glass bulbs. Keely jumps with a shriek.

  “I think the lightning hit the power line,” Nick says with a nervous laugh. The clock on the microwave flashes twelve o’clock. “That’s going to suck trying to replace these light bulbs. Flip the T.V. on, please.”

  Keely feels across the futon. “Are you sure it’s safe to turn it on?” she verifies as her fingers curl around the remote.

  “I don’t know, but I need the light.”

  With a shrug, Keely presses the button. Black and white static fills the screen. The volume is too loud. The shrill sound hurts her ears.

  Lightning bolts through the sky again and with it brings pain. A bolt of lightning straight through her body. Nick is thrown to the floor with the force. Shocked, he pushes himself up just in time to see a bolt of white hot lightning strike Keely’s heart. Her body lights up, rises off the couch with the jolt. She is surrounded by a glowing halo as she falls back and rolls to the floor. Nick feels glued in place, frozen with horror. Thunder rumbles and Keely’s body convulses, seizing with the vibration. He slumps to his knees. Raises his hands to touch her, but doesn’t know where. Doesn’t know if he should. Her body stills and he presses two fingers to her neck checking for a pulse. It’s strong and steady. He pulls her limp body onto his legs. Hugs her to him.

  “Oh, God. Please be O.k.,” he chokes out.

  Keely feels cold and tingly…and wrong. There is a foreignness to her. Inside of her. It claws at her insides. Pushes on her brain. Tries to expand beneath her flesh making her feel as though she will burst at any moment. And just as she thinks she can take no more, it stops. Not slowly, but immediately. Stills as if it has frozen. But it doesn’t leave her. No. It’s there. Hiding. Waiting. She is sure.

  “Happy Birthday, Daughter.”

  Keely opens her eyes. Blinks slowly. She turns to face her father. He wears a look of triumph. He is so beautiful, she notices. This is the first time she has fully seen him, every feature, in perfect clarity. The dimple in his strong chin. His golden hair that seems to almost glow. The flawless pale skin. And his eyes that she always thought were a dark blue now hold so many colors. Some she can’t even name. There is so much beauty; it’s almost painful to look at.

  “You look well. Most don’t take to the change so easily. But you’re different, aren’t you? Special.” He beams at her proudly and Keely cannot focus on his words, or more importantly, what they mean.

  “What? What are you talking about?”

  “You have lived for eighteen years. You have earned your God given talents. Now you must learn how to use them. Come to me and I will teach you.” He reaches out
his hand nearly touching hers. Just the smallest of movements would put her fingers with his. Looking up, her gaze shifts from his strong pale hands to his face. Her face she realizes. But not her eyes. She has her mother’s eyes.

  “No, I can’t stay with you. I have to get my parents.” She speaks slowly, her voice strained. She doesn’t really want to say the words coming from her mouth. She wants to stop, push them back in and take her father’s hand. But somewhere, deep inside, something moves, reminding her. She can’t stay. She has a duty to her parents first. To get them somewhere safe.

  “Yes, I know. I plan to take care of that. Make that your second present.”

  “My second. What was my first?” She feels a tremble inside.

  “Your sacrifice.” He looks at her as if he is disappointed. As if she shouldn’t have asked such a stupid question. But Keely still doesn’t understand.

  “My sacrifice? What exactly did I sacrifice?” Her hands tremble at her sides.

  “No, my Keely, not what you have sacrificed. You will never have to do that. You can have it all. Anything. Everything.” He drops his hand finally and steps closer. Brings his face close to hers. “That awful girl will never hurt you again.”

  Keely stumbles backward. Moves away from him, away from his words. Shakes her head because though she doesn’t want to believe it, she now understands exactly what he means. “It was you. You made Farah kill herself.”

  “Sacrifice.”

  She is still shaking her head. Still trying to make it not true. “No. No. I don’t want anybody being sacrificed for me. I don’t want any of this. I just want my life back. Don’t you see what this is doing to me? I can’t take any more. Just please leave me alone. Just go away. Send me back and stay away from me forever.” Her voice trills toward hysteria as she pleads with her father.

  “What’s done is done. We can’t go back. We can’t change things. Now can we?” His gaze locks into hers, holds it. Holds her. Penetrates. She senses he is telling her something, but what, she doesn’t know. Doesn’t want to know. Just wants out of here.