by Ainsley Shay
“Hello, Miss Thorn,” he said, in that melodic voice that could lull a drunken sailor off the plank, with the smile on his face.
“Hi,” was all I could manage to return. His grin made my stomach roil.
“Your story was excellent.” The look in his eyes was devious, baiting me for more than I was willing to bite. “I wanted to tell you after class but you left in such a hurry, and when I planned to on Thursday, you never showed.” He paused and walked slowly toward me. With each deliberate step he took, it took everything I had not to run back into the store.
The girl in the newspaper popped into my head and I wanted to ask him about her, but I was scared. If he was the sicko who put her there, I sure as hell didn’t want to be his next victim.
“I heard you’re an art student, so I honestly didn’t think you had it in you to write with such depth. I mean, the way you intertwined reality and fiction into your writing.” He paused for a moment. “It truly is a gift.” He tilted his head and narrowed his eyes. “Or an experience.” He gave a reserved shrug, and the gesture infuriated me.
I didn’t say anything. He stopped three feet away from me, just outside the threshold of my personal space. I didn’t know what to say except thank you, but the words never left my mouth. Our entire exchange was uncomfortable and bizarre. Lost and floundering, I shrugged. “I completely forgot to do the assignment and randomly slapped together a thousand words I thought would at least get me a decent grade.”
“You’ll definitely be getting an A, but it won’t be because you winged the assignment.” He released me from his stare and looked off at something in the distance. His face was intense with thoughts I couldn’t imagine slinking around in his head. Then, that grin crept back onto his lips. I wanted nothing more than to tell him to fuck off.
His face didn’t change when he looked back at me and said, “I strongly suggest you continue writing this story, Miss Thorn.” His tone was easy and relaxed as if he was asking me to walk a dog. But it felt more like he was coaxing me to slit my wrists. “Just write whatever comes to mind. Your first story was visual and well written. It flowed naturally, and yet, it was simultaneously deliberate and evocative.”
“I didn’t know there was supposed to be a sequel.”
“There’s always a sequel. Just not all of them are written.”
I thought of Skelside—the word that seemed to link us in a way I had yet to understand.
“I just...” He took a long pause. “I wasn’t expecting your work to be from an experience. If you’d like, you can stop by my class before or after school and we can discuss it further.”
“I have no idea what you’re talking about.” If only he knew how real it felt, but I was not going to give him the satisfaction. I rubbed my shoulder with my free hand. “Anyway, it was dark, and I usually like to write something a little more upbeat and cheerful—not so dreadful.”
“I can appreciate that, but this type of writing suits you very well.”
“Ah... yeah...” In mid-sentence, I realized I was shifting from foot to foot and immediately froze before I continued. “I’ll see what happens when I put my pen to paper for our next assignment,” I said, forcing a smile.
“Well, I hope to see you in class tomorrow.” He began to walk toward his car that was hidden in the shadows, when he stopped and turned. He glided his finger over his bottom lip. “I know you’ve been through a lot lately, with your dad’s death and all, so I’ll give you a little heads up. Tomorrow night’s assignment is to write a flash fiction piece on some place unique, either imaginary or real, your choice. It’s due on Wednesday.” He smiled as though this was the most thoughtful and generous thing he could do for me. “You know, I would love to hear more about Skelside.”
Skelside. The word was like poison. I wanted to ask him why or how I was connected to a place I’ve never been, or how he knew of the haunting place that plagued my dreams. But, I didn’t. His answer would be either a lie, or a truth I wasn’t ready to hear. Maybe he was waiting for the same from me, but I had already decided I would let curiosity kill me before I ever asked him about Skelside.
I stood under the flickering bulb of the gas station, silent and still.
The darkness of his eyes was very similar to Blacwin’s, but unlike Blacwin’s, there was something else lurking below the glistening color—something menacing and carnivorous. Tonight wouldn’t be the night I found answers to my questions, but something, perhaps that sixth sense, told me it wouldn’t be long now, and I was truly scared. I was more frightened than I had ever been.
19
17 days after ~
When Catherine woke in the morning, she saw something had been pushed under her door. She eased off the bed and retrieved an envelope. Her name was beautifully inscribed across the front. She knew what was inside: the only possible way to her freedom. When she turned the envelope over, she rubbed her thumb over the wax seal. It was the same as the emblem on the guard’s chest, the seal of The Fallen. Hatred for the Lord grew in her chest. She closed her eyes, broke the seal. Fragments of it fell to the floor. Catherine’s hand shook as she pulled out the skin-like folded paper. The envelope floated to the ground. She unfolded the letter.
My dearest Catherine,
Its mouth awaits you
Follow the path
Allow it to sense and taste you
As you find your way to
The hollow of its belly
In the well you’ll find
A stone
Its claws will want to keep you
Escape its talons
Bring me the stone before sunrise
~ See you at midnight,
Lord Darenfys
The thin parchment slipped from Catherine’s fingers and she fell to her knees. She heard the toll of the bells and her heart pounded. She wondered how many more hours she had until midnight. Her breath caught when there was a knock at the door. The guard entered without waiting for her response. The edge of the door stopped when it hit her.
“My Lady, are you all right?”
Catherine could only stare at him with utter disrespect. “How can you serve the Devil and have any respect for yourself?”
The guard tried to help her to her feet, but Catherine jerked her arm away. He ignored her question. “I came to check if you were—”
“What? Still alive?” Catherine picked up the note, crushed it in her hand and threw it at him. “There’s nothing in this room that could help me end my life.” Her eyes seared with hatred.
“My Lady—”
“Don’t you ‘My Lady’ me, get me the hell out of here!” She tried to go by him and into the hall, but he easily stopped her. She backed slowly away. “Please, I beg of you. Please...” she cried. He waited a moment before he closed the door. The clang of the lock was like a tolling calling out her death. She had no choice but to face whatever creature waited for her.
Catherine, unfortunately for me, had failed to kill herself. As horrible as it was, that was my first waking thought. Her suffering was turning into mine. Her story and my dreams were truly turning into nightmares. I wanted to know when they would end. I wasn’t sure the colors were worth it any more. The castle was so dismal; it wasn’t like I was drifting on a rainbow night after night. My stomach ached as I watched Catherine suffer. Why wouldn’t Lord Darenfys just let her leave? Why was he determined to keep her there?
Mr. Yves was behind the counter when I walked into the bookshop. “Little one, how are you this fine-rainless-Monday?”
“I am...” Mr. Yves looked at me expectantly while I thought of something that would suffice for him, but also be the truth. “I’m hanging in there.”
Mr. Yves came to the customer side of the counter where I was standing. “Aren’t we all, my dear?” He wrapped his arms around me. The scent of tobacco from his pipe was fresh on his cardigan.
“Can I ask you something?”
“I think you already know the answer to that.”
; “Have you ever heard of Lord Darenfys?” Mr. Yves was well read, and, in my eyes, had always known something about anything I had ever asked him. But, I doubted he would know about a crazy guy in my dreams.
“Lord Dar-en-viss,” he pronounced his name slowly in an almost inaudible voice. “The Lord of Skelside.”
Shudders rocked through me. “You’ve heard of him?” My voice was a shrill in the silence.
“I have.” When he glanced down at me, he raised his eyebrows in interest. “Are you studying him in school?”
“No.” I didn’t want to elaborate on how I came to know of the man, if that was what he was, but I also couldn’t lie.
His shoulders fell as he exhaled in relief. “Oh, good.”
Even though he was visibly relieved, his reaction made my curiosity go up about a thousand percent. “Why, oh good?”
Mr. Yves gestured for me to sit on one of the club chairs in the middle of the store, and he sat across from me. “When I tell you, you’ll understand.”
It took only all of sixty seconds, from when I asked Mr. Yves if he ever heard of Lord Darenfys, to the sitting down part, to realize that the man in my dreams was real. I rubbed the back of my neck trying to ease the instant tension that had formed in my muscles.
“I read about Lord Darenfys in a book I had picked up at a garage sale. One of the most interesting books I have read.”
I wanted to ask why, but I was sure I’d have a list of questions by the end of his story. Some of which, I was also sure, I wouldn’t, couldn’t, ask without Mr. Yves thinking I was crazy.
He took off his glasses, wiped his eyes, and then replaced them. “He was a man who, no—let me start over. He was an angel. His name means ‘dark rainbow.’”
“Like mine.” Chills crept up my arms, and a sickening feeling settled in my stomach.
“No, yours simply means rainbow.”
The door jingled and we both looked toward the entrance. Mauve, a regular customer, stood just inside, her flower printed shawl draped over her shoulders. Mr. Yves had once told me the color of her hair was the same as her name.
He stood, offered a wave and greeting to her, then sat back down. When he continued his voice was lower. “The depictions of him in the book displayed a beautiful man; glorious wings of gold on a God-like body. In the book, it stated that he had fallen in love with a young human-girl who had made her way into Heaven. When he was forbidden to love her, he asked to be sent down to earth and be human. He no longer wanted to be near what he could not have.”
“Each day caused him more agony. He wanted nothing more than to have the blood of man flow through his body and live a mortal life. Of course, he was denied this, so he made his decision to fall.”
I squirmed in the seat as I thought about the colorful dome in my dream. “Aren’t fallen angels considered demonic and evil, they’ve defied—”
Mr. Yves held up his hand. “Yes, although from the text, Darenfys wasn’t evil in the sense that he wanted to corrupt mankind, he only wanted to be one of them. Either way, Heaven didn’t care, and that explained why his name was changed from Enfys, meaning rainbow, to Darenfys; the ‘dar’ that was added means dark.”
My dreams were soaring in my head. I remembered Lord Darenfys, he was as evil as evil could be. “From what I’ve read about fallen angels, aren’t they immortal?”
“They are, and Darenfys was no different. He knew that part of his destiny would never change. But, he tried.”
“Tried how?”
The door jingled again and another customer came in. I looked at Mr. Yves, wanting to hear the explanation before we ended this conversation.
Mr. Yves stood and put his un-lit pipe into his mouth. “He drank the blood of men.”
My head spun at those last few words. I had the ton of questions I knew I would. I wrapped my arms around my churning stomach and thought of the statue-like guards in my dreams. As I got up, I also felt something else, pity for Lord Darenfys.
“We’ll have to continue this conversation later. It interests me as to why you want to know about him, or where you heard about him. He’s not one that’s usually discussed.”
I did not intend to bring up Lord Darenfys again to Mr. Yves. What I did intend to do was look for the book that had his story in it. I didn’t see it the other day when I looked, maybe it was long gone by now.
Chandler was sitting on the curb by my car when I came out of bookshop. “What do you want?”
“Nothing. Why do you always think that I want something?” It wasn’t that he always seemed to want something, it was like he was trying to give me something, but lacked the people skills to do it right without it coming off creepy. “Snow told me what your creative writing teacher did last week, what a dick move.”
“Yeah.” I continued to walk up the flight of stairs to my apartment without looking behind me to see if he was following, I knew he was. As expected, he followed me right into my apartment. The act was... so Chandler that I didn’t bother to question it anymore.
“It wasn’t a suicide.”
He lost me for a moment and then I remembered the girl in the paper. “How do you know?”
He shrugged. “I just do.”
I’m not sure why, but I told him I saw the woman with my teacher last week. Chandler’s head jerked in my direction. His eyes bore into mine. “Trust me, it definitely was not a suicide.” He said the words through gritted teeth. He turned away from me and proceeded to walk right over to my fridge and open the door. “I wanted to talk to you without the presence of Snow.”
“She's not going to be happy about this.”
“I'm pretty sure she won't find out. I don’t plan to tell her, do you?”
“No.” I felt ashamed for keeping things like this from her. But, this time it was a good idea to withhold this little episode and all the rest. “And tell her what? You like to break into my apartment, wait for me outside my work, you like reading my Cosmo, and you have no problem helping yourself to my fridge.”
“Okay, you just made me sound like a gay stalker.”
“You are!”
“Trust me, I’m so not gay.”
“Who cares?” I plopped down on the couch. “While you’re in there, can you get me a bottle of water?”
He grabbed two bottles of water and sat down next to me. Opening one of the bottles, he handed it to me.
“Snow really likes you, you know?”
“Yeah, I know.”
“Are you going to ask her out, like to be your girlfriend?”
“I don’t know. I have a lot going on right now.”
“That’s no excuse, we all do.”
Chandler put his arm around the back of the couch. “I like to keep things simple.”
I laughed so hard that I spilled my water on both of us.
“Hey!”
“Sorry.”
“What the heck is so funny?”
I couldn’t answer right away. “Please tell me that you’re not serious.” Still laughing, I looked at him. “You are a walking cryptic creeper.”
“What’s a cryptic creeper?”
“You! You’re like this hot guy who just shows up in town, and suddenly you’re everywhere. You never answer any of my questions; you know things that you shouldn’t—”
“You think I’m hot?”
I elbowed him in his side. “Shut up!”
“You know, they say laughter is the best medicine.”
“Medicine for what specific illness?” I asked.
He took a swig of water. “Anything and everything—it’s a cure-all.”
It felt like we should have still been laughing, but it was suddenly quiet.
“Are you still having nightmares?”
I whipped around to face him, and in the process spilled my water on both of us, again. Ignoring the wetness that seeped into my jeans, I asked, “How do you know that?” Then, immediately wished I hadn’t admitted what he had already known.
As if I just
asked what the weather was outside, he said, “I just do.”
“‘I just do,’ that’s your answer? See! That’s exactly what I mean. You’re a cryptic creeper.”
He shrugged and took another sip of water. I swear there was not another person on the planet who could simultaneously be more irritating and good looking. I had a feeling that he knew both of these facts, and tried to live up to them.
“Would you believe me if I told you?” He looked at me and his light eyes pleaded with me not to go there. “My guess is, probably not. So, let’s not go there.” He looked over at me again, forfeited a quick smile as if to say the conversation was over.
It wasn’t. We were just getting started, and we were so going there. I needed answers, and I had none so far. Well, except that Lord Darenfys was a fallen angel who drank blood. So, other than that, Chandler, and possibly Mr. Pene were the only ones who had hinted at knowing anything. I hated to admit, with all his hotness and cockiness, he was all I had right now, and I needed him. “God dammit, Chandler, stop screwing with me!”
“Your dreams are starting to get worse, aren’t they?” It wasn’t what I expected, but at least he was talking. It also seemed that I didn’t have to say anything for him to know that they were getting worse. So, I barely nodded. He lowered his head and mimicked my gesture. “They’ve only just begun.”
20
Chandler set the bottle of water on the coffee table. “Iris, there is something happening right now that hasn’t happened in over 500 years.”
Why the hell was he so calm? I wanted to strangle an entire tribe of weirdoes like him, and yet, he was calm. “And what’s that?”
“They found you. Your dad was your shield and now that he’s...” Chandler turned gripped my upper arms, forcing me to look at him. “There is only so much I know, but I know you’re not safe.”
I got up and walked the length of the room. My head overloaded with Chandler’s words. The note my father left me told me as much, but I wasn’t ready to tell him about what I found. Besides, he wasn’t exactly being forthcoming with information either. “What about the dreams?”