by KJ Harlow
“Hold me, Tor.”
There was silence for five seconds then warmth. Tor had rolled over to his left and closed the distance between our bodies. He aligned his body with mine, making sure every inch of my back was touching the front of his. He draped his right arm around me, closing around my body just below my breasts. He pulled me closer into him as he nuzzled into my hair. My blood rushed as I felt his breath on the back of my neck. I sighed as he left kisses on me, my skin prickling with goose bumps every time I felt his moist lips make contact with my neck.
This was wrong but felt so right. Only Stan had been in my heart, but Tor was hammering at the door. Stan was as good as dead. He was a Tormented, beyond saving. So why did I not allow myself to succumb to the man I was with now? I turned around and faced Tor. The room was dark, illuminated only by moonlight ebbing in through the balcony. Tor had taken off his mask. His eyes were softly brimming with concern. I placed my hand on his cheek and pulled his face into mine, kissing him on the lips. His big hand cupped my face, insistent but gentle. Suddenly, he pulled away from me, his eyes wide and alert. I weaved my fingers through his course, blonde hair, pulling him into me as I hungrily resumed my kissing.
This time, he leaped off the bed and stared out the balcony. My heart was beating as I stared at him. After a few seconds, we could hear it: sirens.
“Come on,” he said, his eyes not leaving the balcony. “Let’s go”. He turned and started moving towards the door.
“Tor…” I said, sitting up. My hand was draped on my waist as I looked up at him.
He looked at me with dark, fathomless eyes. He stepped towards me, grabbed my hand and pulled me up in one smooth movement. With his other hand, he tilted my head up and planted his lips onto mine. Before I had time to regain the breath that he took from me, he was pulling me down the corridor and back to the lifts as red and blue lights and spun in the distance.
We were in the middle of the lobby just as we saw police making their way up the path outside. I froze as they looked at us. Tor jogged in front of me and opened the door for them.
“Good evening officers, we heard gunshots on the fifth floor.” They nodded at us in gratitude and rushed right past me to the lifts. My eyes darted up to Tor and I raised an eyebrow. His mouth twitched up in the slightest of smiles. I didn’t return it, not knowing what to feel. This non-serious side of Tor would take some getting used to.
Outside, a fleet of four more police cars blared past us down the road towards the scene of the crime. A small crowd of residents in dressing gowns and slippers was milling about outside. I looked back one last time at the apartment then started walking towards the city. I would never be coming back.
Tor and I walked side by side in silence. He looked forward but I knew that he was secretly glancing at me every now and again. I ignored him; I was too busy thinking about our next destination. Where else could we find clues about what troubled Stan? I didn’t know much about his past. I knew that he lived interstate with his mother before he moved to Melbourne, but he didn’t talk much about her. I would Soul Step there in a heartbeat if I knew where she was.
The skyscrapers loomed tall and mighty in the distance. Was there any other place in the city that had significance for us? My eyes opened wide and I stopped mid-step. How could I have not thought about it earlier?
“1803,” I said, beaming from ear to ear. Tor stopped and looked at me, confusion written all over his face. I looked at eyes, bright with excitement. I couldn’t wipe the stupid smile off my face.
“1803,” I repeated. “Come on.” I grabbed Tor’s hand and together we ran towards the bar where Stan and I met.
I stood outside, gazing up at the sign. It felt like years since I’d come here when it had only been months. I could still remember what happened that night: the build-up, the dashed hope, the drinks and then his face. I smiled as I remembered seeing it after waking up. God, I must have looked like a mess that morning.
The bouncer was ogling us next to the entrance with his arms crossed. It looked like he wanted to step in front of us but Tor being the taller and bigger of the two just walked straight in with me following in his wake, smiling at my feet.
1803 was a really cool place to hang out. They were best known for their discerning taste in cocktails but the overall vibe was really welcoming. There were soft and squashy sofas hidden in the corners of the bar, giving a sense of cozy intimacy. Small, round tables lined the walls with the chairs deliberately turned at 90 degrees to each other so that when you and your significant other sat together, your bodies would mirror each other as you have a deep and meaningful talk.
“Rose? Is that you?” A bearded man stared incredulously at me from the bar. The cocktail glass he was polishing dangled precariously from his hands as his mouth hung open.
Oh crap. So much for keeping a low profile. What did I do now? My mind raced as Stan’s manager took his apron off and came out from behind the bar, not daring to break eye contact with me in case I disappeared. Tor shifted his feet like he was ready to start a bar brawl. I curled my fingers up behind my back instructing him to stand down right as Felix planted himself in front of me, mouth still agape.
“Hello, Felix,” I said with a weary smile. “It’s good to see you again.” I moved forward and hugged him, also giving him a quick peck on his bristly cheek.
“Stan said that you were dead,” Felix said weakly. “Are you…” he trailed off, turning paler by the second.
“No, I’m not,” I said a bit too quickly. I cleared my throat. “It’s a long story.” Felix’s eyes flicked up to the tall Norwegian leering down at him. I had to make sure the situation didn’t get out of control.
“I’d love to stay and chat, but we’re looking for Stan,” I said, looking at his face intently. “Have you seen him?” Felix recovered and took half a step back.
“Stan hasn’t been here since the day that you… went missing.” He said, his eyes flicking up to Tor again.
“I haven’t been able to find him either. He never came home that night. Did he leave any stuff here?” I probed. Felix crossed his arms, suddenly looking serious.
“No. I mean nothing out of the ordinary. There is his locker though.” He said, glancing towards the back room behind the bar. My heart skipped a beat.
“Do you think you can let me have a look?” I said, exaggeratedly batting my eyelashes. Felix laughed a hearty, booming laugh.
“Oh, you don’t have to give me that. You can go on straight through,” he said with a twinkle in his eye. “But there is one thing.” I looked at him expectantly. “I don’t know the code to his lock.”
Moments later, Tor and I stood in the tiny back room looking at Stan’s locker. There was a Polaroid picture of me that he had taken when we went for a road trip through the countryside. I had wound the window down and was resting my chin on the edge of the door looking glum as we sat on the roadside waiting for help after a tire had burst. He told me that it was the best picture he had ever taken. I smiled fondly at the photo before turning my attention to the lock.
I had gotten it for his birthday. It was a lock that allowed you to program the code into it. I stared at it despairingly as I cradled it in my hand, daring me to try and crack it. I put in “123456”. “WRONG” was its response, red, glaring letters glowing on the screen. Tor looked on curiously in the background. What else could I try? “100288”: my birthday. “WRONG”. “050787”: his birthday. “WRONG”. What other numbers had significance to him? I tugged down on the lock, hoping it would magically pop open. I dropped it and breathed heavily in frustration, raking my hands through my hair.
“What was the date you met?” Tor asked from behind me. I paused. It was entirely possible. I sifted through my memories looking for the one that contained the date. It didn’t take me long.
“April the 1st,” I breathed. It made sense now. Stan and I reasoned that the guy who had initially agreed to meet with me did it as a practical joke. Picking up the lock, m
y fingers hovered over the buttons. “040117” I pressed. “CORRECT”. The lock popped open.
“Woo!” I squealed. I looked at Tor, who couldn’t resist giving me a little smile. I took the lock out and swung the locker open. There were only two things in there: his favorite copy of The Stoic Philosophy of Seneca and an envelope with my name on the front.
Tor sat down next to me as I took the envelope out. We exchanged glances and looked down at it. I swallowed then turned the envelope around, slipping my finger behind the seal and breaking it. A letter was folded up inside, peeking out at us. I pinched it between my thumb and forefinger, sliding it out delicately. Breathing out slowly, I unfolded it and began to read.
Rose,
If you’re reading this, it means that you’re a sneaky little sleuth who’s just cracked the code on my locker. I know, I know, the code wasn’t random but I was sort of hoping that you would be able to read this letter.
There’s something I’ve been meaning to tell you. I’ve put it off because I haven’t been able to face it. I’m tired of running away so I’m going to face it.
I’m a woman trapped in a man’s body.
I know this seems like the sort of thing I would joke about but with my hand over my heart, I promise that I’m telling the truth.
It feels so liberating just to write those words out. It’s the first time I’ve ever expressed it in any way, shape or form. I was confused growing up. Dad walked out on us and Mom raised me alone. I didn’t have a male influence. Maybe that was part of the reason.
But what started as confusion turned into conflict. I would stare in the mirror and feel like I was looking at a body that wasn’t mine. I can’t explain it. It just feels like someone took my brain and plonked it into a dude’s body.
It’s the reason why you saw me going through your underwear that time. It’s also the reason why we haven’t had sex. Please understand that it’s not because I don’t find you desirable; you’re sexy as hell. I do love the hot secretary look you rock so effortlessly.
Rose, you’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me. When I saw you that night absolutely smashed off your face and asleep on the bar, I thought you were the prettiest thing I’d ever laid eyes on. All of my doubts about myself flew out the window in that moment. I didn’t care that I didn’t know who I was. All I knew was that I wanted you for myself.
What kills me inside is that I don’t know if you can accept me in my true form. I know you’re straight, so if I was to have a sex change you wouldn’t be attracted to me anymore. I spent a few nights drinking myself to sleep to come to terms with that.
I still don’t know if that’s what I want. I guess I do want to look in the mirror and feel like I’m looking at a body that belongs to me, but that’s not what concerns me right now.
Right now, I just want to know one thing: would you love me in whatever way, shape or form that I take?
Yours… truly.
-Stan.
Tor was staring at me as my hand slowly dropped into my lap. I stared into space as I tried to digest what I had just read. The noise outside suddenly swelled as a big group of customers came in but I didn’t pay any attention to it.
“Rose?” Tor asked hesitantly. I looked across at Tor, still dumbstruck. He put his left arm around me. Both of us jerked our heads towards the door as we heard screams from the bar. Felix stumbled in, his face frozen in horror, flecks of blood in his beard. Tor and I jumped up as he slumped onto the floor, a knife sticking out of his back.
Conflicted were hacking wildly at people as they screamed and ran out the door. I drew my Lucent Gun and leaped over the bar, fly kicking a Conflicted and knocking him into the rest of his crew. Standing on his chest, I pointed my weapon straight down and fired into his head several times.
The bastards had picked the wrong day to mess with me.
Twenty-Three
There was no more screaming in the bar. Everyone was either dead, dying or had fled the scene. All I could hear was the seething of the Conflicted as they milled around me, their knives and daggers an arm’s length away. They had just witnessed me Ridding one of their own and collectively stepped away from me.
“Tor, stay behind the bar. Look after Felix,” I ordered. My eyes flitted from one Conflicted to the next waiting for one to make the first move. As if they read my mind, they all raised their weapons and brought them hurtling down, raining a storm of steel upon me.
I exhaled deeply, steadied my gun with both hands and launched myself into a spin on the ball of my foot. One by one, I shot a hole through the forehead of each Conflicted who fell into my circle of fire. It was just like when I was in the children’s hospital and had just Rid Conflicted-Riggs. They seemed to move in slow motion as I calmly took my time to dispose of them.One by one the Conflicted fell, their weapons clattering to the ground as they disintegrated into black ash before my very eyes.
There was no anger, no fear and no bloodlust. There was just numbness as the full extent of what I had read in Stan’s letter crunched into my stomach like a demolition ball. As bullets left my Lucent Gun, I observed the feelings that flowed down my mind’s stream of consciousness.
I didn’t feel cheated on; Stan hadn’t been unfaithful. I didn’t feel like I’d been lied to. He did withhold information from me, but something of this magnitude would have been crushing him. It was enough for him to be turned into a Tormented, after all. I didn’t feel sad. I was distraught the moment that Stan had become a Tormented. Had I already given up on him from that point? No, otherwise I wouldn’t be here right now. I wouldn’t have gone to such lengths to learn the truth about what tormented him. So why did I feel so detached?
I stopped spinning as the last of the Conflicted crumpled to the floor. The room was filled with hissing as the errant souls were whisked into the Underworld for Death to judge, leaving their corporeal cages to rot away. Seconds later, the room was empty. The only evidence that there had been an attack were knocked over bar stools, upturned tables, shattered glasses and the blood pooling by Felix’s mouth as he lay in Tor’s arms on the floor.
I leaped over the bar and skidded to Felix’s side. His eyes fluttered open. They were bright against the ashen pallor of his skin. He shakily lifted a bloodied hand. I grasped it firmly in mine, shaking my head.
“Don’t talk,” I said firmly. His breath was labored as he squeezed my hand weakly. His eyes turned up towards the locker room. Tor was looking at me silently. I hesitated slightly, keeping my eyes on Stan’s friend.
“Stan’s fine. I… need to go and have a word with him,” I lied, forcing a tight smile. The now familiar wail of sirens was approaching; looked like our time was up.
“Rose,” Tor said, soft but insistent. I looked up from Felix into his Tor’s concerned face, nodding at him.
“Felix, thanks for letting me back there. We’ve got to go now.” Tor gently lowered his head onto the tiles. I released my grip on Felix’s hand but he didn’t. He tugged me towards his face. I was inches away from his blood-soaked beard. I couldn’t hear his breath rattling through his lungs over the police that were outside, commanding us over their megaphone to surrender. I hoped an ambulance was there as well.
“Stan’s not a bad guy, don’t be too hard on him…” Felix croaked. He released my hand, letting his flop onto his chest. He closed his eyes and focused on breathing. There was nothing more to do here. I stood up slowly, leaving him on the floor. Tor stood up with me, his eyes not leaving my face the entire time. He extended his hand out to give me something as I drew my gun. Stan’s letter was folded up in the palm of his hand. Tor didn’t move as he waited for me to take it. Holding my weapon in my right hand, I reached my left out to his. I closed my hand over the letter, weaving my fingers into his.
Looking into his eyes solemnly, I pressed the reload. Felix squeezed his eyes shut, blinded by the light that surrounded us just as the police burst through the door.
We stepped out of the light back into Death’s Off
ice. I could tell immediately that something wasn’t right. Agatha and Walter were standing by the fireplace while Death and Tracy stood at the other side of the room. Silas stood in the corner, watching Death out the corner of his eye. Death had his Lucent Gun drawn, a look of venom laced into his hazel eyes. He must have found out that I went back to the Overworld and Walter had helped me. As angry as he was, surely he wouldn’t shoot a Deliverer?
I let go of Tor’s hand, taking Stan’s letter and cramming it into my pocket. Acting on instinct, I ran right into the middle of the two groups and stood calmly in Death’s line of fire.
“Death, don’t shoot him. I wanted to go off on my own to find information that could help me Cease Stan. Walter helped by opening the portal, but I was the one who went without your authority. Don’t blame him, it was all my fault.” Tracy’s hands hovered close to Death’s arm. Did she really think she had the strength to prevent a pissed off Angel of Death from shooting its target?
“Have you learned nothing from Greg’s Ceasing?” He said, barely controlling his anger. “If you had been Ceased by the Tormented today, I–” his eyes flitted to Walter who stood calmly behind me before I interrupted him.
“I might have found out the cause of Stan’s torment.” I blurted out. The tension in the room went up a notch. Tracy’s jaw dropped as she stared at me incredulously, temporarily forgetting the threat she was supposed to manage. Death’s hand tightened on the grip of his gun as everyone directed their attention at me.
“Prove it,” Death finally uttered, his eyes blazing with wrath.