by Ainsley Shay
He nodded as if he understood the chaotic systematic belief, and a small smile settled on my lips. Reluctantly, I looked away from him and scrolled down the pile of books to find the journals. About fifteen books down—not bad. I lifted half of them from the stack and handed them to him. “Do you mind holding these?”
He took the books from me. I bent down and slid out the two Adelina deBlays’ journals from the pile; the journals were numbered three and four. He replaced the books he was holding to the top of the stack. The pile leaned and threatened to fall over, but I caught it and steadied them.
“There’s an art to stacking books. Huh... I had no idea.” His grin gave away his amusement. As I handed him the journals, my hand brushed his and we immediately looked at each other. Two... three... four seconds had passed before he said, “Thank you.” His lips hardly moved when he spoke.
“You’re welcome,” I said, my voice sounding just as weak and unsure. I broke eye contact with him and started toward the front of the store. What the hell just happened?
“Since I’m new here, maybe you can give me a tour of the town sometime,” he suggested.
Did I hear him right? I mentally shook my head to jostle myself back into the moment. “Ah, yeah... Sure,” I said, hoping he didn’t take my hesitance the wrong way. Then, I remembered I was only here for a few days, and in those few days, I already had other commitments. “Actually, I’m leaving next week to go back to school.”
“I see.” He set the journals on the counter. “Well, maybe some other time.”
There was the sound of disappointment in his tone. I didn’t like it, and I certainly didn’t want to be the reason for it. “Yeah, well maybe if I can get away...” I trailed off. I had no idea how I would manage to take care of everything I needed to and find time to give him a tour. Justifying that Gradywoods was small, I tucked the possibility away for later consideration and possible manipulation of plans.
His mouth curved up on one side. “I promise I won’t hold you to anything. If it works out, great.”
I gave him my version of the same lop-sided grin.
“How did you guys end up with her journals anyway?” he asked.
I was grateful he changed the subject. “Um... they were brought in with a pile of other books Ms. deBlays had asked us to pick up during the summer.”
“Hmm... interesting.”
I pecked the keys of the antique cash register and told him his total. As he handed me his money, a reserved smile hung casually on his lips. Then, the smile looked as if it would erupt into a full-blown laugh at any second. The register clanked and cha-chinged when the drawer opened.
“You seem amused by something,” I said curiously and handed him his change.
“Have you guys heard of computers?”
“Mr. Yves is a very simple man.”
“I like simple.” He shoved the change into his front pocket. “Can I give you my phone number?”
My heart thudded harder and faster, threatening to crack through my ribs and leap out of my chest. “Yeah, absolutely,” I said with too much excitement.
“Great. Will you call me if any more of Ms. deBlays’ journals pass through? That is, if you don’t mind.”
The brakes in my heart screeched to a halt. “Of course.” The excitement I felt went from air balloon ride to subway worthy. I handed him a piece of paper and a pen. Taking his time, he wrote out the information and slid the pen and paper across the counter to me. “No problem.” I paused to look at the post-it size paper. Thin straight-edged lines with smooth curves formed the word, Blacwin.
“Thank you...”
I looked up at him and saw expectation in his eyes. Then it dawned on me. “Iris. My name is Iris.”
“Nice to meet you, Iris.” He held out his hand, and I placed mine into it. He gave a gentle up and down tug and then released it. “I’m sure you’ve been told a thousand times, but you have the most beautiful eyes.”
“Thank you.” I bowed my head and busied myself by putting the purchased journals in a bag. The compliment, even though I had heard it a thousand times, had tugged on some inner thread. Hesitantly, I looked up as I handed him the bag. Without taking his eyes away from mine, he took it. The few seconds we stared at each other seemed endless. For that moment I felt detained by his stare—drawn into a place I sensed was full of dark intentions and intimate secrets; they hid and breathed in the cold, remote corners of his soul. Spellbound, I didn’t think before I spoke, “I’ll see what I can do about making time this weekend to see you.” As soon as the words were out, I regretted them. Why didn’t I keep my mouth shut?
“Oh, why, thank you.”
I covered my face with my hand. “God, that sounded bad, I’m—”
“Don’t. It’s okay, I understand. See what you can do, and if it works out, great. If not, I’m sure we’ll meet again.”
I nodded, and the insignificant movement seemed to be the reason for the slight smile on his lips.
He held up the bag in a farewell gesture. “Thanks again for your help.”
“My pleasure.”
He walked toward the door, unhooked his jacket from the coat rack and put it on. He looked back at me with those intriguing eyes. “I hope to hear from you soon.” It was probably just my imagination, but I could have sworn he delayed for an extra moment before turning to leave.
Once he was gone, I looked at the information on the piece of paper again. When I flipped the paper over, a small note was on the back: I’ll see you soon.
My heart began to thud again. What was I thinking? How could I even consider making the time to give him a tour? I had a million plus things to do, and all of them were beneath mourning my father. I squeezed my eyes shut and tried to disintegrate the hundreds of relentless thoughts circling in my head.
All but two went quietly: my father and Blacwin.
4
The rain continued to host the dreary day and into the evening. It had been a day so far off the charts of bizarre; I couldn’t make sense of any of it. First, my dream that was in full-blown color, next, my run-in with Chandler, which was not only weird, there was something strange and off kilter that I couldn’t put my finger on. Finally, there was Blacwin. Closing my eyes, I said a silent prayer to whichever God was responsible for creating perfect creatures. The encounter had been more than just a little run-in with hotness; I was entranced, awed, and curious, and a ton of other emotions and curiosities had filled me.
The awning overhead provided protection from the rain. I had an instant urge to take the few steps and let myself feel each drop splatter onto my face. There was certainly nothing stopping me. Before I changed my mind, I locked the bookshop’s door, set down my bag, and walked into the rain. No one was on the main street. It was as if I were the only one the rain had not washed away. Each drop felt like it was cleansing me of all the heartache I had suffered in the past few days. Thunder rumbled in the distance, but I didn’t care. I stood under the rolling clouds and felt each drop roll down my cheeks, neck, and arms. Unlike tears, they were cool and painless.
Tingles had started in the tips of my fingers. They slowly crept up my arms and neck. My sixth sense kicked in again. I lowered my head from the sky and glanced down the deserted sidewalk and street. The light in the cafe flickered and then went out. I rubbed my slick arms and tried to wipe away the eerie feeling that took hold of each one of my nerves. The encounter with Chandler popped into my head, and I wondered if he was the reason for this odd sensation. I wasn’t sure how long I stood there, but when the creepiness subsided, I realized it had stopped raining. It was possible that I was losing my mind. I picked up my bag and darted around the corner into the stairwell.
My phone had rung before I had a chance to unlock the apartment’s door. It had stopped ringing by the time I dug it out of my bag. When I looked at the screen, there were two missed calls. Snow had left a voicemail. The other missed call was from an unknown number. I listened to Snow’s message: “Iris, I’
m so sorry to ditch you tonight. I forgot that my mom scheduled this big shindig to impress her boss. Should be a load of effing fun. Anyway, I would rather be hanging out with you. Call me if you need me.”
I had gotten my wish, a night alone. If Snow were to sleep over, I’d no doubt tell her about Chandler and Blacwin. But, for some unknown reason, I wasn’t ready to talk about either one of them yet, especially Blacwin. I had always shared everything with Snow, but I wanted to keep him to myself for a little while longer. He had wanted me to show him around town. Why on earth would he want me, of all people, to do that? Maybe I was the first person he had met since he’d been here. Whatever the reason, I hoped there would be a way to find time to give him a tour.
The hot stream of the shower washed away the chills from the cold rain. After changing into a t-shirt and a pair of shorts, I sat on the small couch and reached for the remote. Flipping through stations, I settled on an old movie. My dad and I had watched them all the time. Our movie time had lessened over the years, but it was still time we cherished. I finally broke, and my heart tore apart from my chest. My father had been taken from me, and I had nothing or anyone to blame. It wasn’t long before my eyes were heavy, and I welcomed sleep, an escape from the pain.
Again, I dreamed of the castle and the colors. This time, there were others, and they were dark and menacing. Even though most of the colors were magnificent, I wanted to wake up, but the dream held me in its grip and refused to let me rouse. This time, I was scared. There was something off with the dream. It was on the verge of being a nightmare. I remembered every detail, and I’d never been able to do that before. My birthmark burned, and the pain was searing. I reached for my phone to call my dad and then stopped. As the realization hit, it was like a thunderbolt of fresh shock. The world had turned harsh. I must have done something awful in another life to deserve this pain, I thought.
Groggily, I got to my feet. The thought of getting ready was daunting. But I promised Mr. Yves I would go to the bookshop today.
When I arrived, Mr. Yves was already there. Even the scent of old books hadn’t put a smile on my face. I needed a release from this pain, but I saw no end to it.
“You look exhausted, Iris dear.”
“Yeah, I didn’t sleep too well last night.”
“That’s understandable.” He came and stood in front of me, and put his hands on my shoulders. “Time, it’s going to take time.”
“If it’s okay with you, I’m going to make this an early day.”
“You leave whenever you want.”
“Mr. Yves, you know that blank journal that came in with a box of books from that estate sale over the summer?”
“Yes, it’s on my desk in the back.”
“Do you mind if I have it?”
“Consider it yours.”
“Thank you.”
We worked on the shelves more, and again, I was amazed when I glanced around the store.
“I’m not sure I’ll be in tomorrow. I need to go to home and...” I trailed off, unable to say the words. Home. I wasn’t sure how I’d be able to walk through the front door, much less, go through things that were once part of our life together.
Mr. Yves understood what I was feeling. He had experienced it with his wife. “You do what you need to do. If you want me to go with you, I will.”
“Thank you.”
I reached my exhaustion level at noon and went back to the apartment. The apartment was cool and dark. I slid off my shoes, took the journal and a pen out of my bag, and made myself comfortable on the couch. The rain had finally stopped, and I found myself missing the constant drone of noise.
The journal was a dark color, with a soft leather cover. I stared at the lined pages wondering if I was crazy for thinking my dreams could actually mean anything, or, and possibly more importantly, if I was losing my mind and only imagined they were in color.
I had never been into journaling, but if for no other reason than to get them out of my head, I put pen to paper and decided to write. I knew there was another reason; I just hadn’t figured it out yet. Instead of documenting the dreams with dates, I used my dad’s death. Something felt torn since his death, and it wasn’t only because I was hurting, it was more like a cord had been severed. I started with the first one I had on the day of my father’s funeral.
5 days after ~
I had seen colors. Actual colors splayed out before me. They were beautiful and vibrant. It was as if they each had a life of their own. The castle was of no color, it was, in the gray family, and it looked no different than everything else in my world of reality. The trees, the ripples in the stream, even the clouds all called to me; beckoned me forward. After a few tentative steps, I stood next to a stream and looked into the water. It was as dark as night. I bent down and waved my hand through the shadowy liquid. The water felt thick and intrinsically dangerous. It seemed to absorb the life out of the day as it pulsed with something unnatural—otherworldly.
I felt as if ice were being dragged down my limbs. I abruptly stood and wrapped my arms around my waist. Willow trees danced in unison, although there was no wind to provoke them. Tall grass tickled my calves and ankles as I walked toward the hill. The short ascent was steeper than it appeared. For the briefest moment, before I reached the top, I thought, maybe I’d see my father when I got to the top of the hill. But, once I reached the peak, I gasped. I still held my arms tightly around my body as I peered down at the castle sprawled out on land that seemed to be infinite; land that was endless and not gray.
Vivid colors I did not know the names of expanded in front of me. Rolling hills with millions of flowers scattered over them, and glistening streams that matched the sky above: colors, colors, and more colors. Their beauty was a smorgasbord for my eyes. I devoured every one of them. The castle was foreboding, frightening, and a very familiar color: dark gray mixed with sinister. Without knowing, I could sense bad things happened there. As hard as it was, I tried to ignore the intimidating castle, and stepped forward, wanting and needing to touch the colors. I prepared to run head-on into each and every colorful flower—then, I woke up.
The dreams that followed were more odd than the first. Aside from them being so real and vivid, I had become a bystander in the dreams. I watched the same girl each night. The odd and unexplainable part was I felt everything she felt. It wasn’t like, if she was scared, I was scared for her; I was also truly scared. The entire thing was unlike anything I had ever experienced.
6 days after ~
She clutched her stomach with each stride the horses made; bringing her closer to her new life and the complete strange who would soon become her husband. She pulled back the lace curtain of the carriage, and the late afternoon sunlight blazed through the window. Squinting, she saw a small village.
Without warning, the carriage immediately halted. Horsemen rushed toward it. A guard asked in a deep voice, “What business do you have here at Skelside?” Her coachman told him they were in need of food and shelter.
Then another guard asked, “Whom do you carry?”
“Lady Catherine Leigh,” the coachman answered.
The man told him to follow them into the village. The coachman didn’t hesitate, as they had no choice but to follow these strangers into an unknown land if they were to receive what they needed.
Catherine saw the road curve when she peered out the window. Looming in the distance was an enormous castle. She rubbed her arms, warming the chills that quivered over her skin as she stared at the menacing structure. Thick clouds hovered over the castle. Tall towers jutted upwards into the dark mist as if they were floating.
The thudding of the horses’ hooves echoed over the drawbridge suspended with heavy chains. Looking down into the moat, she saw something skulking just below its murky surface. The water rippled and rolled over its slithering body and seeped through the jagged spines lining its back. It was no creature she had ever seen before.
As the carriage circled to the rear of the castl
e and followed a stone drive with a high curtained wall, they were led into a courtyard filled with what seemed to be no less than a hundred guards. All of them ceased what they were doing when they saw the carriage approach. Her heart rocked in her chest when she saw them.
The guards’ uniforms were menacing. They consisted of floor-length leather jackets with heavy coats of armor protecting their chests. The majority of the guards wore iron helmets that shielded most of their faces. The day was scorching, and she wondered how they could stand the heat, dressed as they were.
As she let the curtain fall back in place, the door of the carriage swung open, causing her to jerk back. Unfamiliar dark eyes stared at her. As much as she wanted to look away, they held her as tightly as a fist. Unprotected and vulnerable, she slunk back, deeper into the carriage. The guard’s long hair surrounded his dangerous eyes. He said nothing as he waited for her to exit. She dreaded leaving the safety of her carriage, but, judging by the look in his eyes, she knew he would drag her out if he had to. She noticed something else threaded through those eyes—remorse. He might have possessed kindness at one time, but now, there were only hints of his humanity left.
On his chest was a seal with a dark curling beast surrounded by a bright angry color. She sucked in a hard breath. She thought it looked familiar, and the possible horror of recognition forced bile into her mouth. Her voice was soft when she asked, “Are you Fallen?” He didn’t answer. His silence frightened her more than if he had screamed at her. She desperately tried not to show the fear that caused her every nerve ending to scream. She thrust out her hand and demanded that he take her to his Lord. He ignored it and her demand, turned, and walked away, expecting Catherine to follow. Another guard joined them. The one with haunting dark eyes fell away.