by Ainsley Shay
I reached for the box and set it on his lap. The switchblades in my gut opened and closed faster and faster. He looked over at me before sliding off the lid. First, he took out the wrapped statue and removed the cloth. His breath hitched when it was fully visible. “It’s the same as your tattoo.”
I wasn’t sure how he knew that. I don’t ever recall showing him. “How do you know that?”
His face darkened, and he looked away from me. “One night when I stayed here, I saw it when you rolled over while you were sleeping.” He held up his hands. “But, that was it, I swear.”
“I believe you, relax.”
He looked relieved as he set the statue on the table and lifted the note out of the box. I hoped he would be able to decipher its meaning or tell me who C.W. was, but that was doubtful.
Unfolding the piece of paper, he read it aloud. “The tattoo hides the mark; Wise, but she is still vulnerable; You are her shield, protect her; Otherwise, she is dead! ~ C.W.”
“That was short and sweet,” he said under his breath. He set the note next to the statue and slowly turned to look at me. The temperature in the room was scorching and simultaneously it felt like it had dropped below zero. His next words sent me over the edge as heated chills raced up and down my arms.
“C.W. is Adelina deBlays,” his voice was so low, but his words screamed in the quiet space between us. “It stands for the Carving Witch.”
Adelina! My head spun. She couldn’t be the same Adelina who carved all of those beautiful statues. Or, the Adelina that used to live in the house where Blacwin was staying. And, we couldn’t possibly be talking about the same Adelina from my nightmare. A witch? Was my head screwing with me that badly, that I had begun to manipulate things?
My stomach felt like a vengeful fist had grabbed it. “She was in the last nightmare I had,” I admitted. He nodded as if I hadn’t just said the most nonsensical thing.
He reached for the journal. “May I?” I nodded. He picked it up and thumbed the pages until he saw the last entry. I hated the expression in his eyes when he looked at me. “I’m almost sure you’re more than halfway through.” He tried to smile, but it was a sure-fail.
I laid my head on his shoulder. “How bad will they get?”
He tossed the journal on the coffee table. “Bad.”
The room swayed around me. I closed my eyes and asked. “How do I get the nightmares to stop?”
He hadn’t answered right away, and I opened my eyes to look at him. The lines around his eyes softened, and he looked defeated when he glanced at me. Slowly, he shook his head. “The story has to finish. There’s no way to stop them.”
Pure frustration roared inside me as I lost my grip on something I had never even had control over. I got up to get a tissue from the bathroom. The box was empty. I took off the roll of toilet paper and went back to the living room. Chandler was still sitting on the couch. “Why me?” I asked through tears. “I mean why am I having dreams about a girl I’ve never met?”
“Your nightmares are telling a story of the past.”
I figured that much out for myself. “I get that, but why me?”
He propped his feet on the coffee table and folded his hands behind his head. “Once, there was a fallen angel who fell in love.”
STOP! I wanted to scream right then, but the word was caged by shock and disbelief. Air neither entered nor left my lungs. My world twisted in on itself. Not that long ago, Blacwin had said that exact sentence to me. The expression on my face must have looked horrific.
Chandler turned to face me. “What? What did I say? What’s wrong with your face?”
I was trapped in a cyclone of impossibilities and disbeliefs.
“Say something.” His face was turning into shades of worry, and he hesitantly put his hand on mine. “Iris?”
I shook my head and looked at him. He was so still, and his eyes were full of worry. He looked like one of Adelina’s statues. That thought immediately sucked me into one of my nightmares. I remembered the guard across the room as he watched and dissected the situation. His eyes, the only facial feature the helmet didn’t hide, were light, fierce, defensive, and desperate. They were exactly the way Chandler’s looked right now.
All of the air left my lungs and I heard two tiny words in my expelled breath, “You’re him.” I stood quickly and walked to my bed, sat, stood... the blood in my head was beginning to drain and I needed to sit down. I didn’t make it back to the couch; I eased to my knees and held my head. Irrational questions that seemed more than outrageous came in waves. They made no sense as they surfaced and then drowned. What resurfaced through the haze of madness was far worse: my nightmares had become very much alive.
“How can that be?” I asked in a voice that didn’t sound like my own. With my hands still over my head, I slowly lifted my gaze and looked at him again. I needed to see his eyes and find anything that told me I was wrong. Chandler stared at me. It was then I shattered into a million pieces.
The worst part was he never denied it.
31
“You’re not going to tell me I’m wrong, are you?” I asked. I wasn’t wrong, but he already knew that. I wanted him to admit it.
He was quiet for a long time before he shook his head. Chandler came and knelt beside me. He tried to take my hands away from my head. I held them tightly against my temples and rocked back and forth. “Iris, you’re kind-of freaking me out.”
“You’re freaked out?” I screamed.
I let him guide me to the couch.
“I’ll get you a glass of water.”
For the minute he was gone I sat motionless; paralyzed by the realizations and terrified with the unknown.
Chandler handed me the glass of water. “Say something,” he whispered.
“I’m scared, Chandler.” My voice broke.
“I know.” He wrapped his arms around me and held me as I cried. “There’s not a happy ending is there?”
He let out a breath. “I’m not sure.”
“I don’t think so,” I said. The moment was long and quiet as it passed. My brain wanted to shut down, but the impossibility of it all had it spiraling out of control. I barked out a harsh laugh and covered my mouth. The sudden change startled Chandler, and he pulled away from me.
“What is it?”
“You want to hear what’s funny? I’ll tell you: Snow said she was going to commit me to a mental hospital. You want to know what for? I’ll tell you that too, for not kissing Blacwin. That’s what—ha! This—” I flailed both arms around. “With all this preposterous and fantastical crap, she would have the straight jacket delivered right to my front door with a giant red ribbon!” I rested my head on his shoulder.
“I’m sorry,” Chandler whispered into my hair as he kissed my head.
The sound of a few cars could be heard passing outside. But that was the only sound.
“Chandler?”
“Yeah?” He rubbed his thumb over my ring.
“Why are you in my dreams?”
“We shouldn’t go there yet.”
I lifted my head from his shoulder. “Chandler, you said you’d help me understand.”
He sighed. “Iris, there are other things you need to know before that—”
“Like what?”
“Just other things. If I told you, you’d wish I would be able to take it back.”
I hadn’t doubted that. That was the unfortunate part about such an intangible thing like words; once they were out, they could cause more damage than a hurricane. “Okay.” I would trust him that he knew best.
Chandler turned to face me. We each had one foot on the coffee table and a bent knee on the couch. “Am I the only one you recognize in your dreams?”
That question caught me off guard, and I had to think about it. “I saw Adelina, but that’s it, I think. It’s hard to tell, the guards wear those face shields. The only exposed part is their eyes. Even when they speak, which is rare, their voices are muffled because of the helmets.”
> He nodded with understanding and seemed to have contemplated something, then dismissed it. Chandler reached for the envelope that contained my dad’s letter. He slid out the letter, unfolded it, and read it silently. I had memorized every word. But, there was one sentence that continuously burned in my head like wildfire... Their only mission is you. When he was done, he folded the letter and set it on the table. A single tear rolled down my cheek. I steeled myself for what he would say after what he had just read.
He said nothing.
I had to ask my next question. “Chandler, am I your mission? Are you one of the ones my father warned me about?”
“I don’t know what to say,” he whispered.
He reached for my hand, and I jerked it away. “Just tell me the truth.”
“Iris, please—” I jumped off the couch and out of his reach.
“Please what? Wait until you guys have what you need from me, then let you kill me?”
Exacerbated, he stood. I backed away and watched as he paced the living room. “It’s never gotten this far before,” he yelled.
“What does that even mean?”
He ran his hand through his hair. His mouth opened to say something, then closed. He stopped pacing very near to where I stood. “All that you need to know is that I would never hurt you.” His light eyes brightened and he took my hand and cradled it in his. “You have to believe me. I would die before I let anything happen to you.”
I was hoping for a more direct answer. But, he had done nothing but protect me, so I had no reason to doubt what he said. “Okay.”
He seemed satisfied with that simple word. Exhaustion seemed to take over his body. He went to the couch, lay down, and covered his eyes with his arm.
I needed coffee or tea, something hot. “Want some tea?”
“Sure,” he said.
I filled the kettle and put it on the stove. Getting the cups of tea ready with bags and honey, I thought of something. I played the question out a few times in my head for what the answer might be but came up with nothing.
I nudged Chandler’s leg. He looked at me with a sleepy expression. He sat up, and I handed him the cup of tea. “Who is she? Who is Catherine?” I asked. When I had asked earlier, he hadn’t answered me.
He took of sip of the steaming tea. The silence that filled the small apartment was infinite. It was enough to fill an entire stadium. But, when he spoke his next word, it was as if it was amplified to a thousand cities.
“You.”
It took me a whole minute to even process that one word. With each second that passed, it was as if they were torn apart until they were nothing more than an immeasurable piece of time. Not only was his answer asinine, preposterous, and inconceivable, I hadn’t wanted that one word to be the truth. My stomach lurched, and I swallowed the bile that rose in my throat.
“No.” The word came out as a whisper when it should have been screamed. I stood so fast my knee hit the coffee table. “Ouch!” Hot tea singed my leg.
Chandler had caught the mug before the rest of it spilled. “I know you don’t want to believe me, but—”
My leg felt like it was on fire. I went into the bathroom and pulled down my jeans. Dark, painful blotches were spread across my thigh.
“Iris!” Chandler banged on the bathroom door.
“That’s impossible!” I yelled through the door.
“I have no reason to lie. When I glanced through your journal, the first nightmares were written about Catherine. The last few you wrote were from your point of view, like everything was happening to you.”
I hated him for being so damn observant. I had always felt everything the girl in my dreams had. Night after night, it was like watching myself on a screen, or having an out-of-body experience as I hovered above the insanity; all of it had always felt very, very real. It just hadn’t made any sense.
I came out of the bathroom. Chandler stood just on the other side of the door. “I’m sorry,” he said.
I lowered my head. “I don’t want to be a part of any of this.”
“If I could change that, I would.”
32
Chandler left and went to pick up Snow for school. I went to the nightstand to where my cell phone was. I hadn’t looked at it since I called Chandler, and I forgot to put the ringer back on after school yesterday.
Blacwin called, just like he said he would. As if on command, my belly quivered when I listened to the message and heard his voice. I hope you slept well. The statues are not very good company. I wish you were here. Call me.
Then my belly did more than the quivering thing; warmth spread throughout. I hit the callback button.
“Hey,” he said.
Hearing his voice made me almost forget the last couple of hours. “Hi.”
“How did you sleep?”
I wasn’t sure how to answer that. I knew, though if anything was going to happen with Blacwin, I needed to be honest with him. “Um... not so good.”
“I hope it wasn’t because of me.”
“No.” God, I wish I had dreamt about him. “Sometimes, I have nightmares.”
He was silent for a minute, then said, “You have been through a lot. Hopefully, they’ll pass soon.”
“I hope so.” According to Chandler, they would. Then what, I thought; would all of the craziness just end and I could get on with having a normal life? Something told me that would never happen.
“Listen, I had an idea—and this is only if you’re completely up for it. But, I thought maybe we could go to your dad’s house and see if there’s anything that looks off or something he might have left,” he suggested.
He did want to help me, and that alone made me smile. I looked over my shoulder and stared at the statue and the letter. I was supposed to say ‘okay’ or ‘no’, but I hadn’t said anything, only tossed around the idea of asking him over to show him what I had already found.
“Why don’t you come over later, I have something to show you?”
He didn’t miss a beat. “All right. See you around seven?”
“Sure.”
“I’ll bring Chinese, what do you like?”
“Crab Rangoons and Lo Mein with veggies.”
“You got it. I’ll see you later,” he said.
We said our goodbyes and I pressed the end button. I started to get ready for school.
Was I sure I wanted to do this? Get this involved with Blacwin right now. I think the unease I felt was Chandler’s fault. I knew he just wanted to protect me, but I needed to go with my gut on this one. I liked Blacwin. I liked him a lot.
Snow was already in class when I arrived. She hugged me and asked how I was doing. I told her I’d tell her later.
I hadn’t realized how tired I was. I rested my forehead in my hands. When the bell rang, I tried to slide into student-mode. I felt unprepared as I searched in my bag for my notes and something to write with.
“Is there something wrong, Miss Thorn? You look rather distraught this morning.”
The sound of Mr. Pene’s voice made me think I should have skipped today and started the weekend early. Low key, inquisitive whispers floated around me. I tried to concoct an answer that didn’t sound sarcastic. I simply said, “No, I’m fine.”
Emotions laced with unwarranted hatred coursed through my veins. Why was he constantly on my case? He could have any girl in this room on their hands and knees, faster than a hot rod hitting the quarter mile in less than five-seconds. As sick as the thought was, it was true.
He addressed the rest of the class, “And, so our quest continues to re-create our precious dreams.” The entire class hung on his every word as if they were dangling from an air balloon string.
Without any warning, I felt the air around me begin to dissipate—replaced by a thick un-breathable substance. I started to cough, and gasped for breaths of air, but I couldn’t catch my breath. What was happening to me? I got up and made my way toward the exit, knocking someone’s notebook off the desk as I passed.
>
As soon as I was out the door, I bent over and rested my hands on my knees. Air rushed my back as the door to the classroom was pushed open. Mr. Pene was at my side asking me if I was all right.
Did I look all right? The coughing eased, then, finally ceased. Thin streams of air seeped into my lungs.
“Aside from being colorblind, do you have any other health issues?”
If there was ever a time I wanted to punch someone right in the center of their face, this was the exact moment. I turned my head to look at him and then back down at the floor.
“I’d like to know why you have such an issue with me,” he said.
What? You want me just to come out and say you give me the fucking creeps. Hardly. “Let me ask you something.”
He raised his eyebrows. “All right?”
“Why do you keep me in your sights all the time?”
“You make it sound as if I have a gun pointed at you.” That’s what it felt like, I wanted to say. “Your work happens to be brilliant, and I only want to see you grow with it,” he said.
My breath was almost back to normal, and I stood upright. I ignored his comment and instead blurted out a question that I immediately regretted. I didn’t want to know his answer. No, it was more like I wasn’t ready to hear his answer. “How do you know about Skelside?” His mouth curved into a wicked grin, and I swore I saw his eyes glisten with delight. My heart stopped, and then started up in full force, pounding like it was trying to escape out of my chest. I had just admitted a truth and his suspicions were finally confirmed. I cursed myself.
“How is it that you do?” His low voice was knowing and menacing. Without waiting for an answer, he said, “You know, you should have left your hair long, he likes it that way.”
“Likes,” the word was in present tense. My veins felt like they had just been pumped full of shaved ice. One of the first dreams I’d had, when I had met Lord Darenfys for the first time, one of the guards, the guard who always stood behind him in the dining room had said something about my hair, “You should have left your hair down.” Holy shit! I knew I had confirmed his suspicions. But, he also confirmed to me that he was involved in this. He had already known exactly how I knew about Skelside. There was no way I was ever stepping back into his class. I turned and started down the hall.