Dark Calling

by Cheryl McIntyre

  Keely’s eyes follow the bridge of his finely shaped nose, down to the smooth inviting lips. Hover there. Reluctantly move on. Trail down the strong smooth chin. Rest on the thick and lengthy neck. The lump of his Adam’s apple. She takes in the broad shoulders that are obviously well sculpted, even covered by the soft black tee-shirt. Her gaze moves on, gliding down the chiseled chest. Stops. Glares at the table in her way. Begins the trip back up. Ends back where she started. His eyes.

  “I want to draw you.” She says it before she can stop herself. Feels her cheeks burn.

  “Excuse me?” His voice is rhythmic. Deeper than she expected.

  “Nothing,” she chirps. She waves her hand more times than is necessary.

  He laughs quietly. “Did you ask to draw me?” He runs his fingers thoughtlessly through a mane of silky hair the color of honey.

  Her back pack slips from her fingers. Thumps to the floor. She plays with her nails. They have chipped black polish on them. “I said I want to. You have a nice bone structure.” She tries to play it off as if she were merely looking at him with an artist’s enthusiasm. It is art class, after all. Right?

  His eyebrows crinkle.

  “I don’t know what we’re doing. I doubt we’re starting a project today, but I mean, when we do.” He looks at her as if he is missing a piece to a puzzle. Like she has somehow confused his senses. Keely loses herself in his eyes again. Her head tilting slightly to the right.

  The slap of a binder hitting the table beside her causes her to jump. She glowers at the intruder. Her eyes shrinking to slits as she sees Nick sit down. She shakes her head in exasperation.

  “O.k. This is just getting weird. Are you really in every single one of my classes?”

  Nick ignores her. He is staring at dark eyes. No. He is scowling. Keely looks back and forth between them. She can almost hear the whistling music from the showdown scene in an old western movie. She is about to ask what’s going on when the crawling begins beneath her skin. It cuts her off before she can make a sound. Her hands clamp down on the table. Squeeze it tightly. A squeak escapes between her lips as the flesh on her arms bubble with movement. Something rolls under her skin. Pushes through her veins. It burns. Her eyes bulge in disbelief. Nick’s hand finds hers. Pries her grasp from the art table. Tugs. She gazes up at him. Doesn’t understand what he wants.

  Dark eyes is beside her. Takes her other hand. Pulls her the other way. Her head swings in his direction.

  “Let. Her. Go.” Nick’s voice comes out fierce. It scares Keely. Dark eyes smiles wickedly.

  He lowers his face so that it is directly in front of hers. She forgets the slithering in her blood. Forgets she’s scared. Forgets everything.

  “Keely, you need to come with me,” Nick says from somewhere far away. She blinks. Turns her head slowly.

  “Nick?”

  Dark eyes clinches her wrist. Pain radiates through her arm. That arm is not in the best shape. Scar tissue. The scar feels icy. The scar remembers. He allows Keely to pull free, but puts his lips right to her ear. Cool air whispers against the skin there. “You can’t fight it forever.”

  Nick yanks her to her feet. Shoves her book bag at her. Propels her through the door. All Keely can think is that she is missing the only class she looked forward to all day.

  Nick doesn’t stop pushing her until they are outside of the school. She trips on the concrete step. Falls forward. Catches herself with her palms. They are bleeding. Nick tugs her by the arm. Stands her up and starts with the shoving again. The creeping in her veins is gone. She whirls. Hits him with her back pack, surprising him. She lifts the bag to hit him again. He takes it from her easily.

  “Stop it, Keely.”

  She turns to run, but he has her arm. “I said stop.”

  “Let go of me.” Her voice has no emotion. She knows with certainty she is dreaming again. This just cannot possibly be happening. Not to her. Not in real life. Her eyes bore into Nick’s. There are flecks of so many different colors. They’re pretty. She hates them.

  “Don’t run,” he says. She nods as if it’s her choice. Nick stares at her. Studies her. Let’s go. Keely moves to knee him in the groin. Nick blocks effortlessly. She took self defense classes. She knows many men expect that move so she stomps on his foot. Swings her arm blindly as hard as she can. Feels it connect. She doesn’t waste time looking back. Just runs like hell. Makes it to her car before it occurs to her that she probably should have gone back in the school. Before she realizes she doesn’t have her keys because Nick has her backpack.

  “Shit!” She stomps her foot in frustration.

  Gravel crunches. Keely spins. To her left, Nick. To her right, dark eyes.

  “Keely, I am not going to hurt you. Come here to me. Now,” Nick hisses at her. She thinks this is not a very reassuring voice.

  “You are safe with me, but you must hurry. Come to me,” dark eyes calls. His voice is warm and soothing. It sends a chill down Keely’s spine.

  “Why is this happening? What do you want?”

  “He wants you, Keely. Because it’s close. Your birthday.” Nick steps closer to her. She moves away, taking a step in the direction of the other boy.

  “Yes, I want you, Keely,” dark eyes says. “You have no idea how special you are. Please, come with me.”

  Keely sees someone moving in their direction. She isn’t sure at first, but she thinks it might be… Could she be that lucky? She hasn’t had the best track record. Afraid to draw attention, she looks away. Her head swinging back and forth between the boys.

  “Just stay away from me. Both of you.”

  “Keely, I am only trying to help you, damn it. You are so stubborn,” Nick spits.

  “If she is too much for you to handle, I will take her off your hands, Wallace.”

  “I bet you would. And then do what? Give her over to your father?”

  “Yes.”

  Keely is certain now. She braces herself. Her fingers curl, forming fists. “Screw you both.” Keely runs as fast as she’s ever run. She knows Nick can catch her. Assumes dark eyes can too. She just needs to get to him. To Bryon. He is less than fifty feet away. She can make it. She is nearly there.

  Gravel sprays behind her. She can hear it hit the legs of her pursuers. Bryon stops in front of her. Pulls something from under his shirt. Sun hits it. Reflects in her eyes. She stops abruptly, knowing what it is. She’s seen it before, many times.

  Dark eyes appears in front of her suddenly and Keely is pushed from behind. Her face hits the ground. There is a body on top of her. Forcing her down. She can taste blood and dirt in her mouth. She looks up through her hair. Sees the four bladed throwing star leave Bryon’s hand. Hears the zip as it passes through the air. The sickening thwack as it makes contact with flesh and bone. She manages to turn over just enough to see dark eyes fall to his knees. His features locked in a permanent state of shock. He falls forward and explodes into a wave of shimmering white dust. It looks like snow.

  Keely’s head is pushed down to the ground as the dust rushes over her. She gasps. Chokes on blood. Can’t breathe because there is too much weight on her.

  Nick lifts himself off her. Puts his hand out to help her up. Keely flips over. Backs away, crab crawling. Scrambles to her feet. Rushes to Bryon. Hugs herself to him. This is the first time she’s hugged a man—including her own father—since the attack. Bryon hugs her tightly to him. Rubs her back reassuringly.

  “What was he?” she whispers.

  “That was Asmoday. Prince of Demons,” Bryon says confidently. Keely draws back. Something in his voice isn’t right. Shouldn’t he be as scared as she is? Shouldn’t he be freaked out about what he just witnessed? About what he just did?

  “Wait. What? How do you know what he was?”

  “Is. He’s not dead. Just back underground,” Nick says.

  “Bryon?” Keely pushes him with her finger tips. A look of discomfort colors his face. She pushes again. “Bryon?” Now a look of pity. This mak
es Keely furious. She slaps at his chest. “Who are you?”

  He does nothing to defend himself. Stands still and takes it. “Keely, I’m sorry.”

  She gawks at him. “You’re sorry? You’re sorry?” She steps back. “Why are you sorry, Bryon?”

  “I know about you, Keely. I’ve always known.” Bryon walks around her. Retrieves his throwing star.

  “You know about me? What? What do you know?” She feels like a parrot and her mouth tastes horrible. She wishes she had a drink to wash the dirty, metallic taste away.

  “That you were attacked. That you were attacked by a monster and you survived.”

  Keely moves away, not sure where to go. Nick pulls the bottle of juice from her pack and tries to hand it to her. She hesitates. She doesn’t want anything from him, even if it was hers to begin with. He pushes it into her hand.

  “How can you possibly know that?” She gulps the juice quickly, careful not to take her eyes off of the guys.

  “It wasn’t supposed to be this way. We made a mistake. I’m only a Watcher. My job is eyes. Nick, he’s the Guardian. Your Guardian.” He shakes his head.

  Keely glances at Nick. He is standing tall. Back straight. Proud. Somehow, Guardian fits him in a bizarre kind of way. “Watcher.”

  “I watch. For danger. For specials.”

  “He looks. I protect,” Nick adds as if he is helping.

  “I was meant to be the far away. The guy you ignore. Nick was supposed to be the close. You were supposed to be friends. That way he could be with you all the time. We didn’t know you changed. We didn’t realize—and then it was too late. You showed up with dyed hair and black nail polish.” He smiles at that. Gestures toward her. “So I became that guy. I had to. But Keely, I really am your friend. I really care about you.” Bryon rubs his face with both hands. Waits for a response.

  “You had to. Because you’re a Watcher.” She points at Bryon. “Because I was attacked.” She raises her eyebrows. “When you say monster—that I was attacked by a monster—you really mean… monster. Don’t you?”

  Bryon nods.

  “Oh my God. You are a complete lunatic.” She jerks her backpack from Nick’s hand. “You both are.”

  “And you are an ungrateful spoiled brat,” Nick says through his teeth.

  Keely shrugs. “Sorry. Thanks so much.”

  “You know we’re not crazy. And neither are you. You know it’s real.” Nick stares her down. She looks away first because she does know. Deep down she feels the truth of it.

  “O.k. Let’s pretend for a minute that you guys haven’t read too many comic books and this is really true-”

  “It is true,” Nick interrupts.

  “Right. So then, why me? What do monsters want with me?”

  Nick and Bryon share a look. Keely has a pretty good idea what that look means. They don’t want to tell her. Or they don’t know how much they should tell her. Either way, she knows she won’t be getting the whole truth.

  “Fine. Whatever. I knew this was bull shit anyways.” She starts to walk away. Stops. Turns back to Bryon. “Out of everything, you betraying me is the worst of it. Just stay away from me.”

  “Keely.”

  “I mean it. Both of you. Stay the hell away from me.”

  “We can’t. Whether you like it or not, we have to protect you,” Nick says softly.

  “Humph. What? Is it your job?”

  “Yes.”

  Keely blinks. “Well, then you’re fired.”

  Five:

  Nick follows behind Keely’s Honda at a safe distance, careful not to be seen. Her driving is erratic. He sighs. Most people would think it’s due to the day she had. Or maybe she’s lost in thought, on scary information overload. But Nick knows better. He knows this is just the way she drives. Has driven this way for the last year. She changes lanes without signaling. At least she didn’t cut somebody off this time. Nick doesn’t bother to follow the lane change; he knows she’ll merge back any minute. She does this every day. He’s fairly certain she suffers from a mild form of OCD.

  Nick pushes the scan button on the radio. Rolls his fingers around the cap of his water to remove the lid one handed. Sips it as Keely switches lanes. His lips curve. Knowing her so well is comforting.

  He slows as her turn approaches. He doesn’t want to be too close on her street. He cannot believe he had been able to follow her every day for a year without her noticing. It amazes him how she can catch every detail in her artwork, but is completely unobservant when it comes to herself. She only sees what she wants to see. His fingers tighten on the steering wheel. She better get over this stubborn streak soon. She better let her eyes open to the truth.

  Nick pulls his car over to the side of the road as Keely continues on to her house a few driveways up. He watches her hurry up to the porch. “You forgot your book bag,” he murmurs to himself. Laughs quietly as she turns around and runs back to her car.

  She leans across the driver’s side and tugs the bag from its spot in the passenger seat. Nick doesn’t even wonder anymore why she doesn’t realize that if she just went to the passenger side of the car, that is closer to her house, it would save her time and effort. Something like that used to bother him. Now he ignores it. Now he is accustomed to the fact that Keely makes everything, even a mundane task such as getting her book bag, difficult.

  She heads back to the door. Puts a foot on the first step. Hand on the railing. Stops. Turns her head to the left. Right. Pulls her foot back.

  “What is it? What do you see?” Nick sits up. Eyes scan the yard around Keely. “Did you hear something?”

  Keely is backing up slowly. She’s looking for something. Stirring in the bushes a few feet away startles her. Nick jumps out of the car. Keely laughs. Kneels. Nick pauses, his heart is racing. “Lively. Stupid mutt.” He stalks back to the car. Slams the door. “You almost got yourself killed.”

  Keely is rubbing the dog’s stomach. She says something Nick can’t hear. Ruffles Lively’s ears. He licks dried blood from her palms. She stands up and pats her leg as she heads back to the door. She fishes for the right key. Nick sighs as she finally makes it into the house. He’s putting the car into gear as she shuts the door. “Safe and sound.”

  Nick drives, recalling the details of the day. He’s tired. Keely can make one day feel like seven. Teen.

  He knows it isn’t her fault. Not two years ago. Not today. But she could make his job easier. Actually allow him to keep her safe. Sneaking around gets old quick. Besides the fact that he spends so much time concentrating on hiding from her that he’s afraid he’ll miss something. Something important.

  Nick makes a quick stop at the little store on the corner. For such a small place, they always have everything he needs. He grabs a bright red basket. Waves hello to the young cashier at the only register and moves quickly down an aisle. Picks up his body wash and tosses it in the basket. Keeps moving. Grabs a four pack of toilet paper. He ran out yesterday. Adds two cans of beef stew and a large bag of beef jerky. Stops at the cooler. Looks for the half gallon of whole milk with the longest expiration. It’s in the back. Then checks a package of eggs before placing them gently in the basket. Nick laughs to himself, recalling the way he checked eggs for his mom when he was younger. He’d count to verify there were a dozen, not realizing he was supposed to be checking for cracks. Nobody ever explained, so that’s how he did it up until last year when he accidently purchased a carton of broken shells. The cooler door slams shut and he heads for the counter with his goods.

  Home is a small efficiency apartment where he lives by himself. His black futon couch doubles as his bed. This is his only furniture, unless you count the T.V. tray he uses as an end table. Or the dresser that doubles as a T.V. stand. It’s what the apartment came with. He bought the rug.

  Locking the dead bolt, Nick kicks off his shoes. Puts the eggs and milk in the fridge and dumps the rest on the kitchen counter. He tugs his collar and pulls the shirt over his head. Cranks the lit
tle window open and flips on the fan. It’s stuffy. Not as hot as the apartments on the above ground floors, but just as humid. Ohio weather. In a month he’ll be freezing.

  He gathers clothes to wash. Now that he’s back in the charade of school, he has to keep up on these things. At least he gets to wear his own clothes this year. With his basket full, he goes back out the door and down the narrow hall to the coin laundry. Shoves everything into one load. Adds what he thinks is enough laundry detergent and digs change out of his pocket, discarding a piece of lint. He starts the washer. That’s it. There is nothing left for him to do.

  Back in his apartment, Nicks tears open the jerky and sits on the futon. He flips the television on scanning the channels. Checks the time on the microwave. His knee bounces up and down. He cracks his wrist. Taps his leg with the remote. Turns off the T.V. Takes a new shirt from the dresser and drapes it over his shoulder as he puts his shoes back on. He plucks his keys from beside the toilet paper on the counter and heads back out the door.

  Nick’s phone vibrates inside his pocket. He slides the clean shirt on and pulls the phone from his jeans checking the caller I.D.

  “What’s wrong?” he says.

  “Is that how you were raised to greet people?”

  “Nope.”

  “Mom would freak if she knew.”

  “Then don’t tell her. What do you want Lila?”

  “I was just wondering how babysitting is going to work now that you guys royally screwed up.”

  Nick sighs. Runs a hand through his hair. “I know. I was worried about that too.”

  “I’m just guessing she isn’t going to be hanging out with Bryon for awhile so we kind of need someone to watch her. I am also assuming she isn’t on speaking terms with you either?”

  “You assume correctly. I’m heading there right now. I’ll keep watch to make sure she doesn’t leave. I’m guessing she won’t be going anywhere without Bryon to hang out with.” He shifts the phone to his other ear. Starts the car.

  “Pandora Friday. But Dusty will be there with her,” Lila states.