by Kallysten
The monster appeared at the opening, as grotesque and frightening as they ever were even behind the golden glow of the protective dome.
“You can fight back,” Christ whispered. He tugged gently on her hands to make her stand, and when she did the bed disappeared, along with the bubble. “Remember how you banished those things earlier today?”
She shook her head. A hand was squeezing her heart, paralyzing her, making it hard to think or do anything. “I don’t… I’m not sure…”
Even as she said the words, the monster shuffled a little closer. The older woman let out a little shriek. She was scared of the thing, of course. She didn’t know it was just a man.
Even as she thought so, the thing lost its monstrous features and turned into the tall, uniform-clad man who’d captured Marigold after she’d fallen from the sky. She remembered his mocking, hateful words, after they’d shoved her into a van, chained like an animal.
“Don’t worry, we’ll find the kid soon. We’ll throw her in the deepest jail we can find, right alongside you.”
“No!” Marigold screamed, both in the flash of memory and in the present.
Back then, she’d been too hurt, too weak to do anything more than shout and curse and beg.
Now, she stepped toward the sorry excuse for a human being and tore him to shreds with her talons, shouting her fear and her rage that her sister might get hurt like she had been.
The soldier disappeared, leaving no trace behind. Panting hard, Marigold turned to Chris, who smiled and nodded at her approvingly. Next to him, the older woman looked like she was about to be sick.
“Let me out of here,” the woman said in a feeble voice, and then she was gone.
Chris remained. With quiet words of praise, he helped Marigold back into bed. She was so tired, she was grateful when he drew the blanket over her. And this time, when he kissed her forehead, she didn’t flinch.
*
Chris released his hold on Mayor Anderson’s hand first, but he didn’t come out of Marigold’s mind quite yet. First, he wanted to make sure she’d be all right. He tucked her into her bed, and made sure she saw him rebuild the golden bubble that would protect her from her memories.
Only when she closed her eyes, both inside her mindscape and in the real world, did he let go of her hand and end their mental link. He had to blink several times before he understood that the quiet sniffling sounds he could hear didn’t come from Marigold, but from the Mayor at his side.
Should he say something? And if so, what? Her tears were silent, her head bowed; it felt like a private moment that he was only witnessing by default. At a loss for words, he settled on the only thing he could think of offering her: a tissue. She let out an odd little sound when she took it, half chuckle, half sob, and dabbed at her eyes for a moment before sitting up straighter in the chair they’d pulled closer to the bed.
“These were…” Her voice wavered. She cleared her throat and started again. “These images, these flashes… they were memories?”
“Yes,” Chris said.
“Who did this to this poor girl?”
Lily, standing by the door, answered before Chris could say a word.
“The same people you threatened to call on us.”
Mayor Anderson shivered and looked toward Lily. She shook her head.
“I’d heard they did experiments to understand paras but this… this is not science. Not even misguided science.”
“No, it’s not,” Lily agreed. “Maybe she wouldn’t be tortured like this again, not all jails are quite as horrible as the one she was in, but it doesn’t change anything. Force her back to the outside world and all you’ll prosecute is a shell. Even if she ends up in a regular jail, or a mental hospital, it doesn’t change the fact that she’s trapped inside her own mind.”
“But you’re helping her,” Mayor Anderson said weakly, turning back to Chris. “You’re making her better, aren’t you?”
Chris looked at Marigold; she seemed peaceful in her sleep. He hoped the monsters—and the bad memories—would truly stay at bay.
“I’m trying,” he murmured. “But I’ve never done this before. I don’t know how long it’ll take. She might get out of the maze tomorrow, or maybe in another year.”
“And she might change again,” Mayor Anderson said as she stood. “She might attack more people, whether she knows it or not. Whether she understands what she’s doing or not.”
It was a thought Chris had had himself, of course. And he realized that, if it happened, he’d bear just as much responsibility as he did for the death of this woman’s son. But what else could he do, other than exert his best judgment?
“She gave me her word she wouldn’t,” he said softly.
Mayor Anderson sniffed.
“And you believe her?”
“I have to,” Chris said, shrugging. “Just like she has to believe me when I tell her I’m trying to help. Otherwise we won’t get anywhere.”
She looked pensive as she observed Marigold for a little while. Finally, she uttered a stern, “Thank you,” and started toward the door. Lily moved back, and they left together. After another look at Marigold, Chris hurried after them. Had he explained well enough? He wasn’t sure he had. Mayor Anderson had been moved, when she was inside Marigold’s mind, upon seeing flashes of everything Marigold had been subjected to, but her expression as she’d left the room had been closed off again, remote. What was she planning to do?
He would have liked to ask her straight out—or maybe shake her hand goodbye, and take a peek into her mind—but already she was climbing into the jeep. Behind the wheel, Lily Littlewings looked grimmer than ever. Had this all been for nothing? He climbed in the other jeep, this one driven by Lily’s secretary, and was silent on the ride home.
For the rest of the evening, all he could do was worry. He lingered in the kitchen of the boarding house, waiting for the regular radio reports—waiting to hear if things would get better or worse. A little past nine, a relieved announcer read a statement coming straight from Sanctuary’s leadership: the standoff was over. The police forces had retreated. They had not called for reinforcements, nor would they do so later.
The next morning, a package came in from Lily Littlewings for Chris. There was no note, but the small bottle of champagne was a message in itself. He considered the bottle for a while before deciding he’d open it when Marigold was well enough to share it with him.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
Marigold was in a bathtub.
She didn’t know why the thought felt so strange, but it did. That a woman was helping her bathe, on the other hand, did not feel strange—and wasn’t that strange in itself?
She had vague memories of the same woman helping her many, many times before, but all of these memories felt a little hazy, as though Marigold had only observed them through a veil, as though they had happened to somebody else. Today though, she felt actually present in the tub. She could feel the warm water all around her, could smell the deep lavender scent of soap, could see the look of concentration on the woman’s face as she washed Marigold’s skin with a loofah.
Kit.
That was her name, Kit. She’d told Marigold so many, many times, but those memories, too, were distorted, almost like they weren’t Marigold’s own.
Why, though, Marigold wondered, was Kit bathing her? She wasn’t sure what was most embarrassing: to be naked in front of a stranger, or to have said stranger bathe her as though she were a newborn.
Although… was Kit a stranger? She felt familiar. Not family, definitely, but definitely a friend. Or was she?
God, why was it so hard to think? Why was it so difficult to make herself raise her hand and take the loofah from Kit?
The flash of a smile crossed her mind, the smile of a man who believed in her, who supported her, cared about her. Somehow, in a way she couldn’t quite explain, she knew he’d be proud of her for doing this little thing for herself. She’d never cared in her life about what men migh
t think of her, but somehow making this one particular man proud seemed important. So she did reach for the loofah, she did take it from Kit’s yielding grip, and with slow, jerky movements, proceeded to rinse away the lavender soap from her skin.
“Marigold?” Kit said in a hushed tone.
Blinking, Marigold looked at her. Kit beamed.
“Very good,” Kit said, and now her voice sounded thick with emotion. What emotion, Marigold had no idea. “Should I leave you to finish by yourself, then?”
Marigold thought about it. Surely it shouldn’t have been so hard to figure out that yes, she would like some privacy. She finally managed to give a small nod. Kit’s smile only brightened a little more.
“All right. I’ll be back in a moment to help you out.”
She left the small bathroom, drawing the door half-closed behind her. It was good that the door wasn’t fully closed. Marigold wasn’t completely sure why, but it was good nonetheless.
She finished running the loofah over every inch of her skin and felt an odd sense of pride at doing so. When she was done, she thought of getting up, or maybe calling out for Kit to help her, but the water was still deliciously warm, and the smell of the lavender permeated the air, leaving Marigold content. She drew her knees up in front of her, rested her cheek on top of them and allowed her eyes to drift almost shut. This felt good.
The water was just beginning to cool down when Kit returned and helped her out of the tub, wrapping a large towel around her in the process.
“Can you dry yourself?” she asked.
Marigold frowned at her. Why was she asking such a thing? Of course she could; she proceeded to demonstrate as much. Inexplicably, Kit beamed at her as she had before, as though Marigold had just accomplished an amazing feat. Then again, Marigold ended up needing her help to get dressed, so maybe drying herself with a towel was actually a feat for her.
Next was lunch, and Marigold experienced a fair amount of frustration when maneuvering a spoon to eat a bowl of soup ended up being beyond her abilities. Why wouldn’t her body obey her completely?
“It’s okay,” Kit said soothingly as she took over. “It’s been a while since you tried this. You might need a bit of time to regain your coordination. But you’ve made wonderful progress today. I’m so happy.”
She sounded and looked happy indeed, although Marigold had a hard time figuring out why exactly she was so happy.
As she ate, a thought pushed its way slowly to the front of her mind. Expressing all of it seemed beyond Marigold’s abilities right now, but she did manage to say in as much of a questioning tone as she could manage, “Chris?”
Another beaming smile still had no explanation Marigold could fathom.
“He usually comes in the afternoon. I can give him a call if you want, check that he’s coming today.”
When Marigold inclined her head, Kit patted her pockets, presumably to find her phone. When she came up empty, she muttered something about leaving it in the other room and left the kitchen.
A narrow beam of sunlight was falling in through the window, illuminating a few specks of dust swirling in the air in front of Marigold, casting shimmering reflects where it hit her glass of water on the table. She approached her hand to the pool of light, curling her fingers as though she might catch it in her palm.
Sunlight… she couldn’t remember the last time she’d felt sunlight on her skin.
She was barely thinking when she pushed away from the table and stood. The unlocked door opened noiselessly under her hand. She was barefoot, but that was all right. She didn’t mean to go very far. She sat on the first of the three steps that led inside the house, tilting her head up toward the sun and closing her eyes.
After a few seconds she could hear Kit call for her, her voice instantly worried. She thought of replying. The effort, however, seemed too great right now. Besides, it wasn’t as though she was hiding or anything. She knew she’d soon be found. And indeed, Kit’s voice grew louder, nearer—and then stopped, very close behind her. Marigold thought Kit would lead her back inside, and she was resigned to the prospect, having no strength to argue or request otherwise. She was wrong, however.
“Girl, you scared the hell out of me,” Kit said, her words as soft as her hand when it rested briefly on Marigold’s shoulder. “I thought you’d shifted and run away again.”
Again? The word made no sense to Marigold. When had she ever done any such thing? She wasn’t even sure she’d be able to shift if she tried.
Explaining all that was beyond her, but she managed to turn her head toward Kit and meet her eyes. Whatever Kit saw in them seemed to be enough, because she smiled and squeezed her shoulder softly before letting go.
“Chris will be there in a little while,” she said. “We can stay outside until he arrives. All right?”
An answer didn’t seem necessary, so Marigold merely closed her eyes again and allowed herself to drift along the soft breeze caressing her face. The sun was warm against her skin, but not too warm compared to the flames that had surrounded her mind if not her body for so long.
She didn’t know how much time had passed when cool fingers brushed against her cheek. Chris. He didn’t say anything, not aloud at least, but she could hear him inside her, greeting her softly, talking to her without a word. He sat next to her and held her hand.
“Ready?” he asked, and she not only heard the word, she saw his lips form it.
They were inside the maze of glass walls again—although, she’d been there so far, waiting for him, hadn’t she? She’d been in here, behind the protection of the golden dome, and she’d been out there, too, in her bath, eating lunch, enjoying the sunlight. She didn’t know how it was possible, how she could be in two places at once, but it only was one more odd thing she’d encountered today. It didn’t matter at the moment, not when Chris was at her side, not when another monster was approaching, not when she had to find the way out of the maze.
“Ready,” she said, and held his hand tightly in hers as she confronted the monster—and another onslaught of ugly memories.
He stayed with her as she progressed through the twisting paths, encouraging her and praising her. She battled two more monsters after the first, and each fight was more painful, more difficult than the last. All these images she would rather forget made her feel small and scared, made her want to lie down and curl up into as small a ball as she could make herself. Only with Chris’ support did she remain on her feet, but eventually she couldn’t fight anymore. She had to rest.
As he’d done before, he built her a little room inside the maze, with a welcoming bed and a dome of golden light to protect her. When he kissed her forehead, she knew he was going to leave her again, and the thought made her sad and cold.
“Stay?” she asked in a small voice, moving back on the bed to make room for him.
He blinked at her in surprise. He didn’t say anything, but he sat on the bed, his back to the headboard. Very gently, he ran his fingers through her hair. Enjoying the attention, she closed her eyes and let herself drift into a deep, restful sleep.
*
As much as Chris hated to leave Marigold when she’d asked him to stay, he couldn’t spend all of his time in her mind, waiting for her to awaken. With no small amount of regret, he kissed her forehead again and pulled back to the real world. They were still sitting on the front steps of the cottage, now with early evening light filtering down to them through the leaves of a nearby tree. He found that here, too, she was asleep, her cheek propped against his shoulder.
Trying his best not to wake her up, he slipped one arm around her back, the other under her knees, and picked her up as he stood. He carried her inside, nodding at Kit when he passed by her in the kitchen. He noticed her watching him with a thoughtful expression, and when he came out again after depositing Marigold in her bed, she was frowning slightly at nothing in particular.
“Coffee?”
Chris accepted the offer, more because he didn’t feel like
leaving the cottage yet than because he really wanted coffee. He sat opposite Kit’s chair at the small table and watched her pour coffee in two mugs from the pot on the small counter. She waited until they’d both taken a first sip before she said, “Your name is Chris.”
Chris arched an eyebrow at her. “Yes? I told you so the first time I came here.”
“One week ago,” Kit said with a small shake of her head. “It took me one week to realize that’s the name on her wrist. And in the same amount of time, you’ve made her walk, talk, ask for things, when she’s been just a shell for the entire time I’ve worked with her.” She snorted before adding with a hint of self-disgust, “Almost a full year with no progress, and you get it done in a week.”
“It’s hardly ‘done,’” Chris replied. “Just because she’s a little better—”
“Show me your wrist, please,” Kit cut in, already watching his right arm intently.
Chris thought about arguing, but it would have felt a little foolish to do so. Some people kept their mate tattoo covered at all times, but he’d never bothered. If Kit had tried to have a good look at it before now, he’d barely have noticed. Besides, she probably already knew, or suspected what name was inked on his skin. He turned his wrist toward her, showing her Marigold’s name. She nodded.
“Should have guessed earlier,” she said with a sigh. “Why I didn’t put it together when you first showed up here, I don’t know.”
Shrugging, Chris gave her a lopsided smile. “Why would you put it together? We all obsess about the names on our own skins. I know maybe two or three names off the top of my head that other people wear. I’m guessing it’s the same for most people.”
“True enough I suppose. Although it should have been a dead giveaway that Lily Littlewings told me from the start you’d be moving in at some point and taking over for me and Zita. If you’ll give me a few more days, I’ll…”
She trailed off when she saw Chris’ shocked expression.
“You do want to move in, right?” she asked then, hesitantly.