Evanescent

by Carlyle Labuschagne

  We stood in his tiny square room. Gray, stone walls closed us in, overpowering the distance between us. We were all alone. Standing behind me, his chest touched my back, and I felt the electricity erupt throughout my entire body as his arm came around my waist, the other undoing the clasp on the cloak. I caught my breath, staring at our slight reflections before me. We kept our eyes on each other in the glossy surface of the glass wall. His hand trailed down my arm and adrenalin shot through my body, overpowering everything in its wake. My heart stuck in my throat; I had suddenly found a moment of clarity with him so close. I bit down, clenching my teeth. I knew I could not keep the secret of my lost virginity from Troy anymore. I was terrified. I couldn’t expect him to understand, because there was nothing to understand. I was an idiot who had been tricked by power and greed, by selfish reason, by taking an easy way out to fix a horrible situation.

  “Hey, you okay?” His hand rested over my collarbone, and then trailed slightly upward around the base of my throat. Was he was feeling my pulse? I hoped he would take its quickening as nervousness for being alone with him. His other hand stroked my hair and pulled the ends over my shoulder. I spun, suddenly on guard. With my one shoulder totally exposed, he leaned in to kiss it. A spark ignited inside – one I was in danger from by losing myself, utterly, to it. He could have done anything to me right there and then.

  “If it was my time to go, I would die happy in this moment,” he said.

  “Me, too,” I whispered.

  “Why don’t you take a quick shower while I get the last of my things.” A kiss on my forehead released me, his absence a cold shiver inside my bones. I turned as he grabbed a khaki bag and started stuffing it with things scattered around the way-too-immaculate room. I had to tell him about my virginity. He needed to know it was the worst thing I had ever done, and I’d wanted to be his first so badly. I droned the thought into my mind, not wanting my instinct for self-preservation to rob me of my confession and courage.

  I kept my eyes to the ground, swallowed a huge lump, letting the tight pull coil inside my gut. “I need to tell you something,” I started to say.

  My heart raced and my breathing felt forced. But when I looked up, he had already walked away and was heading around a corner. I followed him, my hand trailing along the wall, testing how close I needed to be to him to feel sensation again. I followed Troy into what I assumed was his bedroom, had one last look down the passage and saw that there were four doors, whereas our apartment only housed two rooms. My eyes fell back to the perfectly neat room with only one bed and a metal cupboard. Our room was much larger and classier, with carpets and big windows. It made me wonder why. I leaned around the corner into the small bathroom. The room was so neat it shocked me. I stood staring at bare walls where there should have been something to indicate he was a normal teenage boy. I shook my head; he was no normal teenage boy, none of us were. I silently snickered to myself as Troy fiddled with a panel in the wall. I glanced over at his tidy desk. A few pieces of what looked like computer chips, some metal gears and bronze gadgets, lay scattered on a metal tray under the white glow of a very sleek looking lamp. I wanted to sit down on his bed, but my clothes were filthy. I scowled over the white dress that had replaced my black, gravity suit, and wondered about the dress itself. Perhaps my suit and gear had reminded Enoch of what I had become, and the dress of what I used to be to him – a pathetic love slave. I was startled by Troy clearing his throat next to me. I jumped, almost knocking the tray off the table with my hand. He laughed softly.

  “Here.” My heart aflutter at his touch when he handed me a towel.

  He nodded toward the bathroom. “I had to make a few adjustments to ensure the scanner does not register our biometrics before we take a shower,” he said, trying very hard not to look too deeply into my eyes. “I already deleted our entry into the compound; we have a few more minutes before the system picks up any irregularities, so don’t be too long.”

  I turned, snatched the towel and draped it over my forearm. I slumped knowing I was a coward for not telling him what he deserved to know.

  “So… you overheard everything?” he asked softly.

  I stopped for a brief second, and then started walking toward the bathroom. “I’m not sure what I heard, Troy,” I tried to keep my voice from breaking with the same force at discovering he might, or might not be lying to me. My humanity would have liked to believe the latter. I entered the bathroom and the door slid closed behind me. I turned the lock. Click. I stared at the door, at my dirty hands, looked into the monitor pointed right at me; some kind of film protected the camera lens. I don’t remember why I knew to look for it but I automatically did, and I guess prior memories of my former were there, drawn by my instinct to remember important threats.

  Water sprayed over me, the lasers prohibited from scanning my biometrics, the smell of hot water, the sound of the spray on my head, but despite all of this taking place – I felt nothing of its physical pleasures. I stayed in the shower for what seemed like hours before it shut down. I stood wet and dripping over the gray, glossy floor, ogling the dirty dress all bundled up in the corner. Wrapping the towel around my body, I quickly plucked the dress from the floor and threw it down the incinerator shoot; it left my hands with such speed, one would have thought the dress had burned me. A feeling of dread washed over me. My last connection to Enoch severed. I swore, scolding myself, telling myself that I needed to be less emotional. I should probably have kept that dress for any forensic evidence, for clues, any signs, because I had a strong feeling once again that Enoch had altered my existence. The thought bit into me. I was certain of it. I kept staring at the flames through the dark glass, watched the dress turn to ashes, heard the fan come on and blow the ashes away. My hands found my knotted hair and I started working out the knots with my fingers, when I saw something strange on the back of my neck in the reflection of the window. At first I thought it to be crusted mud, or that I had indeed hurt myself catching alight like that. It was dark and huge, so I turned and pulled my hair further away. A soft knock at the bathroom door brought me back. I wiped tears from my eyes, which was strange as I had no idea I could even cry, or why I was crying.

  “Ava, you okay?” Troy asked.

  I unlocked the door and it slid open, my heart still racing at the strange discovery. He moved back as the steam rolled its way out of the bathroom.

  “Your shampoo sucks,” I told him, waiting for the anger to dissipate.

  “You’ve been in there for a while.” He grinned at the sight of me in a towel. My hair dripped onto my shoulders and onto the floor. I stared at my feet, then at his naked feet, suddenly shy. He stared at the dying flames in the incinerator.

  “Help yourself to some of my clothes, I need to clean up.” He stepped aside, and I walked past him. His hand brushed against mine as he entered the bathroom, making my skin came to life and slowly back to its numb state. I heard the water go on, because Troy hadn’t closed the bathroom door behind him; my stomach churned at the thought of him so close, so… naked. Slowly, I opened his cupboard door with a touch of my hand to an indented panel on the outer surface. Once opened, I frowned, things were immaculacy stacked, maybe a little too OCD? I giggled to myself. There were only a few things that made up the interior of his closet. About two pairs of dark denims, three pairs of military cargo pants and a few t-shirts in gray, white and black. The shower spray echoed throughout the room. I pulled a gray vest from its hanger and took in the scent of clean material, but I could still smell his scent lingering in each strand of fabric. I slipped it over my head and pulled it over the towel, before I let the towel drop. Searching for a pair of shorts, I rummaged through his drawers when my eyes fell on a wooden box. I stared back at my bag, untouched beneath the metal table, then looked back to his box. They were very similar and a thought crossed my mind, one I was fighting. The silver, ornate pattern around the locked clasp called to me. What was in his box? And where had these boxes come from? I closed th
e drawers and cupboards after pulling out some white, cotton shorts. I shut the doors quickly, the bang of the metal cutting through the silence. Troy was out of the shower. I leaned against the cupboard door. I wanted to look in that box so badly, I really did. I closed my eyes and tried very hard to swallow my overwhelming curiosity. I felt heat on my skin, and felt the air move over the fine, damp hairs on my body. Opening my eyes, my heart stopped at the sight of Troy who was suddenly standing in nothing more than a towel right before me. He pulled another towel through his wet hair. I kept my eyes on his… everything. The pull of muscles everywhere, the curves of his body, the golden tone of his skin. I felt almost sick as he neared. He leaned in closer and on stepping back, I almost became one with the cupboard, afraid that if he came any closer I would lose the little control I still possessed. He stretched an arm above me, resting it against the cupboard door, giving me a good whiff of his bewitching scent. I pinned my hands behind my back, restraining myself against the metal cupboard. As his hand brushed my damp hair back, followed by his fingertips trailing down my shoulder – pins and needles gave way to warm and cold waves washing over me. They ran down my spine, and then over my entire body. I kept my eyes on his chiseled eight-pack, struggling to breathe with him so close, virtually on top of me.

  He smiled on a whisper. “I just wanted this moment, us together like this, this feeling in my stomach – like I am falling.”

  His lips were so close to mine. It took all I had not to devour him right there and then, but I managed to push him from me and turned away.

  I kept my back to him. “There is something you have to know.” I kept my arms at my sides, and held them tight against my body while I summoned the words to tell him my disgusting secret. I had to get it out before my shift took hold, protecting me from the guilt. I didn’t know where to begin, how to begin, or if there was even a nice way of telling him what I had done. I heard him swear. My insides burned and then turned cold. He’d read my mind! I’d lost him forever.

  “We have to go,” he said harshly.

  I felt sick relief spill through shed tears. I wiped them before I turned.

  “What is it?”

  “Our time is up here, if we don’t go now, our position might be compromised.”

  “Okay.” I swallowed.

  My relief was misplaced, the longer it took me to tell him, the worse it would be when I eventually did ‘man’ up. My mind turned, the disease becoming aware of my thoughts. I could never tell him. I wanted him for just a little longer. The risk of losing him was something I could not let happen. Not now, not ever. It would be the worst decision I’d make, ever! There was a cyclone of emotions, the push and pull of my twisted blood-shift, my disease wanting to take me over, ruin everything with its stir. The cyclone wanted to rip my life, my thoughts, my free will from me, twist and turn it to lies and deceit. I couldn’t let it – I was not ready to lose everything in its devastating wake.

  “She needs the healing magic of a Pure,” Tatos stood arguing with Rion.

  “Well, my father says she needs love.” Rion was adamant on staying by her side. He was right, more than he ever thought possible. If the disease was blood related, my sister had it in her too, and only the touch of love could pull her back. But, what if what was wrong with her was because she hadn’t come back from the blood-shift? Could Enoch really be that sly in tricking my sister to damnation, too? My thoughts ran… If Enoch had forced it… I swallowed blistering coals of hatred, willing my mind not to think like that. There was just no way – not my sister, she was way smarter and wiser in so many ways but most importantly, she was nothing like me!

  “Your father is mistaken,” Tatos said plainly.

  The sudden tension drew my attention to Tatos and Rion standing over Maya.

  “What’s happened to you?” Rion asked him.

  “Whatever you mean, you are mistaken in assuming something happened to alter my perception in this matter.”

  “I know you, we are like family. You used to believe in the power of love.”

  Tatos’ gaze didn’t shift from what he was doing, he lifted Maya’s arm to measure her vital signs.

  “You will get her back. At least she is alive and well,” Rion said in a stern whisper.

  That caught his attention. Tatos stared at Rion like he wanted to say too much in one moment. His shoulders lifted, and then dropped again in self-proclaimed defeat. Then, turning his back on us, he closed the case that held Anaya’s healing herbs. Willard and Rion shared a gaze. They knew I was standing in the doorway, arms crossed, leaning my head against the steel frame. Only when my head couldn’t go any further did I realize I was leaning on the frame. I wondered if these gestures would someday disappear; leaning my head on my arms in tiredness, the way I sat, the biting of my lip, a scratch on my skin because of an itch. I loved sitting crossed-legged on a surface, but now that I couldn’t feel it, whether it was comfortable or not, how would that change me and how long would it take before someone noticed the difference, my alien-like freakishness? Soon I wouldn’t blink, scratch, twitch, lean or sit like a normal being. There was silence between the three men for a while. Kronan’s soft snores filled the early morning silence, his mouth slightly ajar. I’d jerked when I heard him speak earlier, only to find he was talking in his sleep. Willard said they used to pull spells out of him that way when the boys were younger. I smiled at the silly naughtiness. I looked around for Troy and his entourage. I couldn’t see him, but I could feel him near enough. My attention was brought back to my sister and her soft moans as she lay on the hard surface of the medical exam table, and I hoped deeply that when she did eventually pull out of her vacancy, this was what my sister Maya would finally wake to – the peaceful silence of the room. She had already woken a few times by then, but only long enough to look around and fall back into her comatose state. Perhaps a world without her mother, adoptive or not, was unbearable.

  “Let me try.” I made to push past the three warriors placing healing crystals around her.

  “Excuse me,” Willard teased.

  I squeezed his shoulder to pass, a gesture I was sure to lose soon, and his hand flew up instantly to touch the spot I had touched. For a second I wondered if my touch had shocked him or something, but the goofy look on his face made me change my mind. He looked up, his emerald eyes dancing in the pale light. He smiled at me and shied away. Willard was much younger than any in his warrior circle; chosen early because of his talents with a sword. I had asked Maya once how old he was, and she had guessed around fourteen in human years. Minoans measured the age of a man by his skills, and the women by their beauty and energy.

  “Will they work without their proprietor?” I asked looking at the variety of healing crystals packed around the room, remembering the day Arriana had used the same method to bring Maya back from the witchdoctor’s deadly spell. Because Arriana was a Pure, her healing abilities were much more intense and masterful. The memory stung, almost like pulling up something that was meant to stay abandoned. I leaned forward, her breathing slow, deep and steady, like she was simply asleep. I touched her arm and her eyes flew open. I was about to smile when the screams pierced me with a sharp sting to my head.

  “Stop her, stop her, stop her…” she kept on saying.

  I caught my breath. “It’s okay, it’s me,” I told her, trying to hold her in my arms. She nevertheless flew at me with a brutal force that slammed me across the room, and into the metal table that held all kinds of tools and healing crystals; glass shattered onto the floor. I was caught off guard, resulting in a great deal of blood loss – mine. I screamed, hitting Maya square in the chest, convinced that everyone had seen the luminosity of my blood. Knowing someone was different was one thing, but seeing it was too real. I heatedly punched her again, but her hands caught my hair, yanking me back and then slamming me face first into the metal bed. Next thing I knew, she was on my back, throttling me in an arm lock. My shock over what was happening dampened my strength and abilit
y to shift. I held on to the metal legs of the medical bed for as long as I could.

  “Stop her!” Troy yelled. I held on to the overflow of emotions threatening to bring on the shift, I held it deep inside; not wanting to shift in front of them all. Her nails clawed and ripped into my arms, and I felt my skin tear as Troy neared bringing all sensation back to my skin. As they pulled her from me, she grabbed on to my hair again, and when I saw the strange color of my blood spray on both her clothes and mine – my vision flared red and instinct took over, tripping the blood-shift; it ripped through my core, an intense pulse that flattened everything in its path in one single surge. My breath burned as it left my lungs. I stood in the wake of it all, staring at the bodies dispersed all around me. I knew this sight. My pulse had released like this before, the day of my resurrection. I knew it was the blood-shift, my disease that did it. Slowly, Troy stood, one leg at a time. The hollowness returned in the overflow. I stared at my reflection on the glossy surface of the white wall. It was not me staring back. My hair seemed to be swimming around me, as if under water, eyes dark and depthless pools of a cold, distant night. My skin zinged with purple-charcoal veins as my pulse dampened. The look on Troy’s face? I couldn’t bear it. I took off, running over metal and glass splinters. Troy tried to grab me as I ran past him, but I dodged his arm by sliding beneath it on the smooth concrete floor; the door before me slid closed, I looked back. Maya stood with her palm extended, her other hand raised, and sent a table flying at me. Troy screamed her name, and Robert tackled her as the table smashed inches away from me. I had just managed to roll onto my back while holding my head as the metal table smacked, and then chimed to the floor with a dull, loud clang. Everything inside me crushed as I turned on all fours and smashed through the glass window, my body still on fire, laced with the shame of what I had become. I somersaulted into the garden, the sound of my boots echoing throughout the forest, wind screeching past my ears, but my skin never felt the twigs and branches hit. Smells and sounds became one gray-purple-black distortion around and before me. I found myself over a wall and in the garden of my old dormitory apartment. Hiding. Suddenly, I was aware that I needed to stay unseen. I staggered under the shadow of a tree and just stayed there, like a frightened animal being hunted by his own pack. What was I? My arms locked around my knees as I folded my body close to my chest to push it inside and make it disappear. Something was horribly wrong with me – me? I snickered at that thought. I was not me at all, because how else could I explain my sister’s actions against me? I started to sway back and forth, rocking until my adrenalin subsided. I had shifted in front of Troy, the others. My thoughts were not my own intent, my body acted out of fear, the devastating memory of the image of what I had become was something I did not want to accept. The sight of Maya’s rage, the frenzy inside her was too familiar – she wanted to kill me! My breath came out in ragged waves and gentle sobs. “Stop her, stop her, stop her.” Maya’s words played over and over in my head. I remained in the slight shadow until the day turned, time burned and the sky seared an amethyst gleam across dark clouds. A gentle breeze became heavier on the branches hiding me, and large drops fell from the sky. I found myself wondering once more what had changed the weather. It was a sign of the prophecy, but how, why? I sat outside in the downpour until reality slowly crept back in with cold, iron claws. Still, I had no reason to move. The clouds parted and all that remained was a slight drizzle, my footsteps from the wall to the bush clearly visible indents in the soft, moist ground as the moons’ beams glared down on me. I grabbed a rock and minced the ground with it, wanting any evidence to disappear, wishing my disease would, too. I heard the unmistakable engine roar of Troy’s bike. I pushed back into the shelter of the tree, melting into the shadows. I couldn’t face him after what he’d seen me become.