by Azzurra Nox
“Stay away from there!”
She was finally being pulled away from the crime scene as policemen rushed forwards with the paramedics. But she kept a tight vise like grip on the feather as she stuffed it in her blazer’s pocket, hoping no one would notice.
Blake’s blonde hair lay limp against the asphalt like strands of gold twine. Her usual tanned complexion had lost its color becoming a greenish hue. The color of death. She didn’t know who Blake was, but recalled that she was one of the Three Bees. A sinister memory weaved into her brain like a squirmy worm. She remembered Blake on her first day at St. Lucy. How she was facing a corner, murmuring words she hadn’t been able to comprehend. The crowd closed in on the body, making it impossible to see much of her anymore. Lena closed her eyes trying to calm herself. She felt someone grab her hand, and she opened them again to see Jon there.
“Let’s go Lena.”
She didn’t realize she was crying till her vision began to blur. Dior was shaking her head, tears streaming her face as she hugged one of the two Three Bees that remained. Sister Agnes was speaking to one of the agents, trying to tell her what had happened but as far as anyone knew it was being labeled as an accidental death, because suicide would incite negative publicity to the school that wasn’t needed.
A small figure caught her eye. Lena recognized the petite girl standing by the lamppost further away from all the commotion. Hope. A troubled expression was etched upon her freckled face.
“Sweetheart, we should go now. Take the day off,” her dad tried to reason with her, but she didn’t budge from her spot. She was petrified with the need to know what had happened.
“Uh, it’s okay dad. Why don’t you go to work? I’ll stay with my friends.”
“Don’t worry about her Mr. Martin,” Jon quipped quickly, “She’ll be okay with us.”
Her dad looked perplexed for a moment, then he heard the clock chime seven thirty and she knew that he was going to be late for work. He didn’t have time to argue with her. With a final peck to her forehead, he was gone. She watched him drive off in a hurry, glancing twice behind him in a last attempt to reassure himself that she was indeed okay. The whole time, her hand moved over the black feather hiding in her blazer pocket. Soft and luscious. Deadly and seductive. Almost like touching silk.
* * *
That afternoon had felt endless. Classes had been cut short because of the tragedy. Lena decided to go to the dance studio to practice for awhile. She was in her warm up attire, which consisted of a pale pink leotard, white shrug, pink leg warmers and white en pointe shoes. Her long hair tied back in a loose bun as she worked on her dance exercises. She looked at her reflection in the mirrors cast down the length of the room. The pianist wasn’t there so she hooked up her iPhone to speakers and played a Phantom of the Opera score to help her keep the tempo. Class wasn’t in session till tomorrow, so no one was in the room but her. In the hall she could hear other dance classes being taught as Salsa music made its way into the background breaking her concentration from her classical steps.
There was a knock, and then Jon and Amelia walked in. Lena smiled when she saw them.
“Hey, you made it!”
“You said you wanted to show us something,” Amelia said, brimming with curiosity. They must’ve both gone home to change because they weren’t wearing their uniforms. Jon was dressed in ripped jeans and a grey Nirvana t-shirt with a black long sleeved shirt underneath, while Amelia was in short denim shorts, a faded blue shirt, and a pair of tan Uggs. Her red curls were pinned back by black hair clips.
“Yes. I wanted to show you what I found this morning near Blake’s body.”
Lena went over to turn off the music, and grabbed her messenger bag where she had stuffed her black blazer in. Her hands dug through the pockets till she pulled out the black feather.
“What’s that supposed to mean?” Jon asked, confused as he looked at the feather not understanding her alarm.
“I found a similar feather about a week ago outside of the dance studio. I haven’t seen any birds around here with a feather this huge.”
“So? Maybe it flew in from another state, or even South America. Birds migrate from all over the place or get lost in the process,” Amelia offered, speaking as though she were an expert on such a subject.
They were seated on the hardwood floor, Indian style in a circle, as they passed the black feather back and forth.
“But you must admit it’s pretty big,” Jon turned it over in an attempt to uncover some kind of secret hidden deeply between the lush ebony.
The doors opened with a clang, causing the group to turn their heads in unison.
“What are you guys doing here?” Bethany interrupted walking into the studio with Jake Fischer. She too, like Lena, was decked out in her ballet attire. The two of them walked up to the group.
“Nothing,” Lena quickly replied, grabbing the feather from Jon’s hand.
“Where did you find that?” Jake’s eyes were fixed on the black feather, a sudden alarm in his voice that Lena couldn’t quite understand.
“At school…” she didn’t have the chance to finish before the blonde briskly seized it from her hand. She watched his pupils dilate in stupor. Or was it horror?
“AT SCHOOL?!” Holding the feather up like it was a rare specimen that he needed to inspect with careful scrutiny.
“Hey! Calm down, jerk!” Jon jumped to his feet.
“What is that?” Bethany made a disgusted expression as though they were scrambling to check out some nasty piece of roadkill. She reached out to touch Jake’s arm and Lena noticed that she had a dandelion tattoo on the inside of her right wrist.
“Sorry,” he quickly apologized, composing himself as he returned the feather back to Lena.
Jake’s behavior had caught her off guard leaving her a little unsettled like the time she had seen Blake in the bathroom. The afternoon sun peeked through the blinds of the only window in the dance studio. Lena was unaware of them being watched from the outside by a pair of emerald green eyes.
* * *
The fog had begun its slow, primordial crawl along the stretch of beach. The sky, a deep amethyst hue, wasn’t dark despite the fact that it was past midnight. A black figure moved within the folds of the fog. The silhouette seemed to easily bend like a malleable vapor. Swaying, back and forth. Hope watched, standing behind a Lifeguard chair. She wasn’t sure what she was seeing. She couldn’t tell if it was an actual person or just a collision of clouds forming a shape.
An overwhelming scent of flowers intoxicated the night air, combining with that of saltwater. An eerie, sensuous voice echoed in the midst. Follow me. Goosebumps danced up her arm, the jacket did nothing to keep her warm because she was being hit by an inner chill. The misty shape was shifting and becoming dark. I’ll give you a better life. Join me. You can’t save them. They’re all dead, they just don’t know it yet.
She made a noise like a choked exhalation. Up until now, she hadn’t noticed that she had been holding her breath. The shadow turned to face her. Hope froze in her spot, frightened.
“You can’t be real,” she whispered. Her voice was tiny.
The dark shadow swayed and burst into the mist. Vanished.
Chapter Ten
Night had fallen over the city. But it was never silent. One could hear the cars accelerating on the freeway and the faraway echo of a train. The air was cold. Desert air that traveled from the inland. Jon had a date with Amelia. He had promised to take her to the Santa Monica Pier. The Ferris Wheel lightened up every night, and Amelia had gushed at how it would be perfect to view the city and the ocean from so high. Jon didn’t mind the twenty minute drive, especially since traffic wasn’t so intense at night. He started up the car, his hand instinctively reaching out for the volume as the small confines of the Mercedes Benz filled up with the angry notes of Muse’s guitars. Lighting up a Marlboro, he drove to Amelia’s home. She lived only a of couple blocks away. Her home stood three stories high
with a row of Venetian windows. During the day, there was an influx of sunlight streaming in, that they often tried to keep out with blinds. One would assume that the Stevens family was wealthy. But that wasn’t really the case. Or at least, it had never been the case for single parent Brenda Stevens until she found a way to become a surrogate mother for wealthy couples in dire need of a baby. It was rumored that she had mothered the child of a famous director, although there never had been substantial evidence for Jon to believe it to be true.
He often wondered how many people would actually pay for the possibility of a redheaded child, even if Amelia was beautiful and her hair reminded him of the setting sun along the coast of Malibu. When arriving at her home Jon texted her, letting her know that he was waiting in the car. The one downside of Brenda’s occupation was for Amelia having to deal with her moodiness and morning sickness. Last time Jon had showed up at their home after nine her mother had thrown a fit for the late hour saying how she was in need of her sleep. Reason why this time he had opted to text her of his arrival rather than to knock on her door. The thought of having to confront her mother’s wrath was enough to keep him well grounded in his car.
“Hey baby,” Amelia greeted him happily as she got into the car and leaned over to kiss him. She always managed to make him melt a little the way she acted so happy to see him. Her lips always crushed his in a frantic, urgent manner. For him, Amelia wasn’t the first cigarette, the one that you’re dying to smoke first thing in the morning, nor the second, the one you’re grateful to repeat the ritual with. No, she was the third cigarette. The one that you find yourself smoking because it’s there, and you feel like having another, but not because you’re craving it. When she pulled away, she said, “It doesn’t matter when we get back. My mom’s been drinking chamomile tea like a junkie and she just zonked out. She won’t even notice whether I get back home on time or not.”
“Excellent,” he murmured, his cigarette back in his mouth, dangling from the side as he started the car again. He tried to pay attention to the road but stole a few glances over at Amelia. She was dressed in a jean mini skirt, a black tank top with a white layer of transparent gauze over it, and her staple tan Ugg boots that he secretly detested.
“We should ride the West Coaster!”
“I told you I don’t do roller coasters,” a hint of annoyance filtered into his tone although it wasn’t his intention.
“There’s nothing to be afraid of. It’s a kiddie ride, really. It’s not even that fast!” she insisted.
“I don’t care. I don’t like roller coasters,” he made his way unto the Pacific Coast Highway. The road was dark at this time of night. There were few streetlights that illuminated the highway.
“Oh, don’t be such a baby. I’ll hold your hand,” she teased.
He accelerated without realizing, as his anger rose from her insistence. “Milly! I said no! I won’t go! That’s the end of it!” he shouted slamming his palm against the steering wheel hard enough for an audible smack before putting out the cigarette in the ashtray below the radio, whilst his other hand gripped the steering wheel tightly.
“Alright,” she pouted. “Sheesh. There was no need to get angry.”
Remorse of lashing out at her gnawed at him as they rode the rest of the way in silence, safe for the music pouring out of the speakers. When he pulled the car into a parking spot, he turned to Amelia with an apologetic look after turning the car off and pulling the keys out of the ignition.
“I’m sorry I yelled at you. I just….I just can’t stand them, okay?”
“No, it’s okay. I’m sorry that I insisted,” she reassured him, undoing her seat belt so that she could lean over and plant a soft kiss upon his lips. “I was just being stupid. We’ll just do the Ferris Wheel like you promised and to hell with the West Coaster.”
The look in her eyes seemed to drench him with love. Was it possible? He had never been in love before. That is, until he met Lena. She was the kind of girl that made him realize what a sweet torture not being able to see her constantly, was. But Amelia had an endearing quality to her that he couldn’t seem to pinpoint. He kissed her hard. Lips lingering against hers in an attempt to block out any feelings he could feel for Lena. It was madness. Jon refuted to think about her, as he pulled away.
“Wow,” she said a little breathless, “You sure know how to leave me speechless.”
They walked hand in hand up along the pier. Gilded lights embellished the Ferris Wheel, illuminating the night. Street performers break danced along the wooden pier, whilst others promised to walk on broken glass. A band played an emo tune about death and heartbreak as little kids ran past them carrying bags of colorful cotton candy in transparent plastic bags. The West Coaster rushed past, a few people screaming as it sped. Jon closed his eyes a moment to stop the images from flooding into his brain. Of the last time he had gotten on a roller coaster. The day his brother disappeared. Pushing those dreaded thoughts back, he cast them in the secret vault of his psyche where he kept them locked. No one knew of his tragic secret. He never felt the need to divulge. Not even to Amelia. Somehow, his acknowledgment of the instance would make it real, and he preferred to pretend it had all been a terrible nightmare. One that he wished to forget and never revisit.
“We should get in line,” Amelia broke into his thoughts, tugging him in the direction of the Ferris Wheel. He nodded in response.
Twenty minutes later they boarded the ride. It wasn’t meant to be fast, but it was windy as they got higher. The multicolored LED lights provided a spectacle of their own. It made the Pacific Wheel resemble an Andy Warhol creation in a picturesque way. Amelia grabbed his hand, looking at him with a small smile. The ocean below was black in its nocturnal hue, the crash of waves sounding like falling dominoes in sequence. There were no clouds in the sky and the moon beamed in a perfect crescent shape.
“There’s a reason why I wanted you to take me here.”
“Why’s that Milly?” he had his arm around her shoulder.
“There’s a gypsy folklore that states that if you ride on a Ferris Wheel with someone you love you won’t ever part.”
Jon tried to listen to what she was saying but he wasn’t sure if it was the over abundance of lights or maybe because they were suspended one hundred thirty feet from the ground, but suddenly his vision got blurry and things began to look very strange. He knew he was there with Milly, but her red hair was unexpectedly replaced by light blonde, and her blue eyes looked brown. Dazed, he blinked his eyes a few times and gasped. There was no possible rational explanation for any of this but his eyesight couldn’t be failing him. The girl seated next to him was no longer Milly, but Lena.
“What’s wrong?”
“Nothing…nothing…I just…I was feeling a little weird.”
“It’s okay, baby,” she leaned closer to him. “You make me feel a little weird….in a good way.”
Jon stared at the cherub lips, and instinct took over. The need to feel her lips pressed against his was enough to trump manners. Tongue coaxing her mouth open, licking her lips, before slipping into her mouth to meet her own. A sudden adrenaline rush surged through his veins, his hand rising up her shirt and feeling her breast.
“Mmm…calm down Romeo, there’s a camera,” she whispered against his lips her finger pointing at the video camera placed inside their cart. But he wasn’t listening to her. His lips kissed hers again, frantic and passionate. The wind had gotten stronger. He absently felt his hair move in the gust. A strange flowery scent seemed to invade the air. Violets. He heard the sound of flapping of wings. Opening his eyes, he let out a little gasp of shock.
“What’s wrong?”
“No—thing…nothing,” his voice a little shaky, he couldn’t seem to trust his eyes. He was certain he had seen Lena seated there instead of Milly, but now she was back in the flesh. Red curls and voluptuous body. Not the blonde mane and delicate waifish frame he had thought he had in his arms only moments before. He pulled his arm awa
y from her, rubbing his eyes. Jon couldn’t understand what had happened. He must’ve been hallucinating. But it made no sense!
“Are you okay?”
“Yeah…” The scent of violets had become more poignant that he couldn’t ignore, sniffing at the air, his eyes cast up at the sky.
“You’re acting weird.”
He stood up trying to see if he could make out anything in the night, he heard the flap of wings but couldn’t see any bird in sight. Below the people looked like little colored dots on a checker board. Their voices were faraway as the sound of fleeting wings grew louder and louder. Even the music pouring out of boomboxes and speakers dulled in its din.
“Sit down. It’s dangerous to stand up when we’re up so high!”
“Do you smell that?”
“What?”
“That scent of flowers…”
“Are you high?”
“No…” he shook his head, feeling disorientated. “Don’t you hear a bird flying?”
“We’re at a pier, it’s probably a seagull. Now just sit down you’re making me nervous.”
His hand clutched the metal railing, looking overboard. Both the wind and flapping of wings grew in intensity, making it impossible for him to displace his attention elsewhere. It almost coaxed him to release his grip but Amelia pulled him back into his seat.
“Are you stupid? What’s wrong with you? You can fall that way!”
“I’m…I don’t think I feel that well,” he sat back eyes fixed on the sky. There was a faint outline of wings visible against the starless night. Thick and velvet in texture. But the clouds hovered over them now and whatever kind of bird it was, it was hiding behind them. He blinked. Once. Twice. A cold sweat overcame him.
“Milly?”
“Yes?”
“I think I just saw Lena’s bird.”
“What?”
“That feather she showed us?”
“Yes?”
“I saw the bird.”
“Where?”
“Just a moment ago.”