I look at my watch: 10:10. I have less than an hour. I don’t know what to do. Should I tell Alexander? Or maybe Edwin? I’m not even sure if I can trust anything they’ve told me so far. Moreover, Avestan’s instructions were clear: Tell no one and come alone or he’ll hurt Charlie. I can’t risk it. An innocent little boy’s life is at stake and it’s all because of me. I have to fix this. Alone.
My mind is a jumble and I can’t think in a straight line. I desperately want to talk to someone, do something. I pinch my eyes closed to hold back the tears. Man up, Declan. There’s no one who can help you. You have to help yourself.
I take several deep breaths and enter a state of determined calm as I rise to my feet and resolve what I have to do.
When I reach the boardwalk, I lock my bike to one of the rusty metal racks at the entrance near the railroad tracks. I’m not sure why I bother. I doubt I’ll ever be using my bike again. But somewhere inside I retain a measure of hope and I don’t want to deny it, however remote. I hear the roar of the ocean on the other side of the boardwalk. The normally peaceful sound now feeds my anxiety. The sky is churning with dark gray clouds and large waves are pounding against the shore, building strength and speed—a storm is coming.
The boardwalk is deserted. I flash back to the nightmare I had when Avestan was strangling me and my stomach twists into a knot of dread. A few of the rides are usually open on the weekends year-round but not on days like today that portend a storm. I walk under the large painted archway that proclaims “Welcome to the San Mar Beach Boardwalk!” and turn left towards the Big Dipper. I walk slowly and scan my perimeter as I go, searching for Avestan. I’m twenty minutes early. I’m not sure what benefit an early arrival can bring but somehow the idea of being first makes me feel less helpless and out of control.
When I reach the Big Dipper, I look around nervously. The large blue sign on the entrance booth indicates that six tickets are required—the highest amount of any ride at the boardwalk. Tickets are a buck a piece. Or 25 cents on local’s night. It’s a wooden coaster, built in the 1920’s without any of the loops or death-defying features of modern roller coasters, but it’s rickety and there are no bulky restraints—just a nylon strap across your lap and a bar in front to hang onto—making it slightly terrifying before the ride even starts. It begins as a fast barrel through a dark tunnel and emerges into a slow climb with a deafening clank, clank, clank that builds anticipation until it pauses at the top—a long pause—and then you soar down, hair blowing back in the salty air. It turns thrillingly and then rises and plummets again, whipping around several times until three final, fast dips that lift you out of your seat, hovering weightlessly at the crest of each hill, creating the illusion (and one final, exhilarating fear) that you might hit your head—or your hands if you’re brave enough to hold them up—on the wooden rafters above. It’s my favorite ride at the boardwalk and I don’t even know why I’m thinking of all this except for the fact that it’s a distraction from my crippling worry about Charlie and I know I’ll probably never ride it again. Or enjoy it in the same way, provided I survive what’s to come.
I check my watch: 10:50. Directly across from me is a tarp-covered funnel cake stand with a large sign proclaiming, “Delicious Funnel Cakes!” and a list of toppings and prices. I stare at the sign in a daze, lost in my thoughts, when the sound of Avestan’s voice behind me makes my heart seize in my chest.
“Planning your last meal?”
I spin around and the look in his eyes is chilling. I suspect I’ve erred gravely by coming alone.
“Where’s Charlie?” I demand, channeling my fear. “I’ve done what you asked. Now let him go.”
“I can take you to see him, but you have to come willingly.”
Willingly. Alexander’s warning rings in my head. But what choice do I have?
“Where is he?” I ask.
“Think of it as a sticking point. Between here and nowhere.”
“You have to let me take Charlie home first. Unharmed.”
“Do you really think you’re in a position to be making demands? First you go with me. Willingly.”
“I’m supposed to trust that you’ll let Charlie go when we get there? I won’t do it.”
“A child’s aura can be very valuable—it will be hard to let him go—but it’s nothing like yours,” he says, looking me over appraisingly. “I’ve told you what the terms are and you have my word.’”
“Your word? Your word means nothing to me. Less than nothing.”
“You have no choice.” His tone is icy and resolute.
“I rescind my willingness if you don’t let Charlie go when we get there. Or if you’ve harmed Charlie in any way,” I state defiantly.
“Ah, you mortals—always attempting to bargain and find loopholes. It doesn’t work that way. Once you come with me of your own accord there will be no ‘rescinding’ of anything. Keep in mind as you stand here trying to haggle with me like a street vendor that the longer he’s there, the worse it gets for him. I wouldn’t waste any more time if I was you.” He reaches out his hand.
The image of Charlie—trapped—in my mind causes me to slowly lift my arm and place my hand in Avestan’s outstretched palm.
His skin is cold and all color slowly drains from our surroundings like wax dripping down the sides of a candle. We walk toward the beach and with each step I feel wretchedness consuming me. We’re still at the boardwalk, but it’s all a gray wasteland now and I know instinctively this is a different realm. It’s a desperate, bleak place and my heart is slowly being crushed by the despair around me. I’m certain no one lasts long here, and that’s probably a blessing. The thought of sweet little Charlie being here, for even a moment, engulfs me with a choking sob.
I feel Charlie before I see him. The sadness is unspeakable. He’s curled up on the sand in the fetal position, rocking and moaning. I tear away from Avestan and run over to him but before I reach him I hit something hard and fall backwards. “Charlie!” I yell as I get up and pound on the invisible barrier between us. “Charlie!” I keep shouting and hitting the hard shell until my hands and arms are covered in bruises. He can’t hear or see me. He’s in a private hell and the anguish I feel from him is unbearable. I would do anything to make it stop.
“Let him go! He’s a little boy! I did what you asked! Do it now!” I can’t bear to see him suffering a moment longer.
Avestan slowly walks over and the barrier disappears with a shimmer. He bends down and picks Charlie up and with a swipe of his hand he steps out of the realm and they both disappear. They’re gone a long while and then suddenly Avestan is at my side again, but Charlie is gone.
“There,” he says, “it’s done.”
“What? How do I know he’s home? And safe? And okay?” I demand. “And who’s watching him?! I’m supposed to be there.”
He lets out a heavy sigh and reaches up with his hand and grasps at the air with his fingers, tearing a hole in the gray realm we’re in. He’s opened a small window into the world I know. It’s the foyer in Charlie’s house and everything is in color as it should be. Charlie is smiling and telling Maria, the housekeeper, about all the fun he had at the park with Avestan.
“He doesn’t remember anything,” says Avestan, answering my unasked question. “He thinks he was playing on the swings at the park. When I took him home I told Molly you got sick and had to leave, so she asked the housekeeper to watch him.”
My relief at seeing Charlie safe and happy nearly drops me to the ground. I feel as if I can reach through the portal and touch him as he’s speaking. It’s heartbreaking to be so close. I lift my hand to try to touch the colors but Avestan swipes the air quickly with his hand and closes the portal, disgusted.
“Now that we’ve disposed of the bait, we can proceed to the main event,” he says with a gleam in his eyes.
Chapter Eighteen
“Do you realize what a find you are, Declan?” Avestan looks me over as if I’m a prized steer headed to s
laughter. “I knew you were special almost from the moment I first saw you but I didn’t realize how different you are.”
“Identifying a mortal in the lifetime they’re poised to be realized is rare and valuable. But finding a mortal who has an aura like yours …” he trails off, “I didn’t know such a thing existed. And to think that I may have missed it if it hadn’t been for Alexander’s lovesick attention.”
The energy emanating from him as he rants is suffused with malevolence so acrid I can taste it. One part of me wants to keep Avestan talking so I can come up with a plan; another part of me wants to shut him up so that whatever he’s going to do is over with quickly. For now, the side that hasn’t succumbed to despair wins out. “Where are we?” I ask.
“A middle existence for tortured souls. You didn’t arrive by the usual route, but now that you’re here it doesn’t matter. Nusquam would extinguish your soul eventually—I’m just going to hasten the process. Your power moves to my side of the balance sheet and Alexander loses. Win-win.” His smile radiates evil.
“Why do you hate Alexander so much?” His venom is personal. He has to be motivated by more than just increasing dark energy.
“That’s a long story for another time, Declan. I’m surprised Alexander hasn’t told you about the rich history we share.”
“What are you going to do to him?” I ask.
“Declan, if I was in your position, I would be far more worried about what I’m about to do to you.”
He grasps my hand and pain jolts up my arm and explodes throughout my body. A guttural cry bursts from my mouth and then the agony sears my throat closed and no more sounds come. A million fiery needles run through every blood vessel and out through my hand in a steady stream of pain. My knees buckle and I drop to the sand but Avestan holds tighter, never releasing his grip. My heart and lungs are bursting and my chest is aflame. The pressure and tearing are unbearable. I feel my life force draining from me and at the same time inky despair is spilling into the empty space left behind. I know if I don’t do something quickly the wretchedness will wholly consume me.
“Wait!” The sound emerges as a low, pitiful moan but it causes Avestan to pause for a split second. In that one moment of reprieve, I picture my white light—that beautiful, burning white light that I know Avestan is taking from me—and I concentrate everything I have on tearing off a tiny piece of it to hide, in reserve. I imagine tucking it behind my heart, undetected. The pain returns, fiercer than before, and when he finishes with me, I collapse, a depleted, desiccated shell, just as he intended.
When I come to, Avestan is standing over me. A deep black aura is beaming all around him with bright white light fighting for release at the tips. I can almost smell the rancid suffering and evil radiating out from his core.
“To draw power of this magnitude from a mortal is staggering.” He flexes his fingers and marvels at the energy in his hands.
I’m crumpled at his feet, cloaked in pain and despondency beyond repair. He kicks my ribs with the toe of his boot. “Goodbye, Declan. I’ll be sure to give Alexander your regards before I destroy the bastard.”
As Avestan walks through the grayness of our realm and disappears back into the world, I pass out again, grateful for a respite from the pain.
Alexander and I are on the hill at Redwood Park, the sky is clear and blue and I’m wearing shorts and a tank top. The sun’s warmth envelops me as I sit hugging my knees, enjoying the feeling. I close my eyes and tilt my face up to the sunlight to absorb it more fully.
“I wish we could stay here like this forever,” Alexander says dreamily. He’s lying on the blanket beside me wearing a t-shirt and board shorts. His long, tan legs sprawl out lazily and his dark hair curls slightly at the nape of his neck.
I lay back and turn to face him. “Me too. I can’t think of anything that would make this day more perfect.”
“I can think of one thing,” Alexander replies, his voice low.
I blush as he smiles at me with those dark, mischievous eyes.
“We don’t have to fight it anymore, Declan. That’s why I brought you here today. To tell you. We can be together. In every way. We can kiss.”
I shake my head, disbelieving.
“It’s true. I found a loophole.”
“We can kiss? Right now?”
Alexander laughs. “Yes, right now.”
“And it won’t kill you?”
“It won’t kill either one of us … at least, not if we’re doing it right.” He smiles and I laugh. “But I want to wait. I want our first kiss to be at the right moment, in just the right place.”
“When will it be then?”
“Patience, Miss Jane,” he says with a laugh. “Anticipation makes things sweeter.” He stands up and reaches down to grab my hand, pulling me up next to him. “Come with me, I want to show you something.”
We walk hand in hand down the winding trail through the redwoods until we eventually reach a familiar clearing. He leads me to the center of the fairy ring and kneels down amidst the towering trees. “Do you remember this?” He brushes away the needles and dirt.
I nod, smiling wide as I gaze at our initials seared into the petrified remains of the tree. With the position of the sun in the sky and the way the rays are peeking through the trees that circle the clearing, the sun’s spotlight is shining almost directly on it.
“Watch.”
We stand together, arms encircling each other, staring at our secret declaration to the world. Minutes pass and I notice the sun’s spotlight slowly inches over until it shines brightly on our initials like a beacon, the heart sparkling in the sun’s rays.
He turns and gazes into my eyes. The charge of anticipation in the atmosphere around us is intoxicating and overwhelming.
“Now is the time and this is place,” he says, his voice low, making my belly stir.
He pulls me close, and with his hands cradling my face, our lips meet for the first time.
I wake gasping and spitting out sand. I’m lying on the beach in front of the boardwalk. Everything around me is colorless, as before, but also silent. I can see the waves cresting and rolling in but I no longer hear the water crashing on shore or the seagulls off in the distance. I speak to make sure I haven’t lost my hearing. “Hello?” I can hear my voice and my breathing but nothing else. It’s gray and cold—so bleak it hurts—and I shiver to the core as I struggle to recall my own existence.
Slowly, it comes back to me: who I am, where I am, and how I came to be trapped in this hopeless abyss. The dream I had of Alexander is there and nearly gone in an instant. I don’t want to let it go but I don’t want to hang onto it either. The memory of something so perfect and beautiful doesn’t belong in this heartless place.
I remember a flash of an idea I had before Avestan hollowed out my soul and I want to try it before the memory fades into the nothingness surrounding me. I watched carefully as Avestan opened and closed the portal and now I attempt it myself, swiping my hand across the air, as he did, and trying to grab a piece of the gray realm in front of me, to tear it open. I endeavor for hours trying different methods but it’s hopeless. Nothing works. With tears of frustration running down my cheeks, I marshal all my focus and picture the tiny bit of white light I hid from Avestan. I find it there behind my heart, undetected—a trifling but oh-so-welcome bit of warmth in a cold, deserted body. I concentrate my imagination and it rolls out from its hiding place and makes its way across my chest and along my arm to my index finger where I form a mental image of it as a white hot laser, ready to fire at my command. I raise my hand and with a tiny bit of hope that somehow grows from nothing, I swipe once more, this time with my imagined weapon burning through to the outside world.
A flash of color shines for half a second and disappears. I got through! I got through, I whisper to myself with a sob of relief. Emboldened, I try over and over using different combinations of techniques until I figure out how to hold my hands and concentrate to keep the portal open. My
watch stopped when we entered Nusquam so I don’t know how long I’ve been able to keep the window open so far, but I estimate my best time at about 90 seconds. The problem is, I’m watching strangers. One portal opens onto two guys in their twenties eating in a McDonalds and having a mundane conversation about their weekend. Another window opens up on an empty bench at the bus station. I can hear people talking in the background amidst the sounds of busses arriving and departing but I don’t see anyone. At least it’s in the right town. I recognize the Metro station in downtown San Mar. As depressing as it is to finally open a portal and have it be devoid of anything meaningful, just seeing color and the prosaic goings-on of ordinary people gives me a connection to the world and plants seeds of hope within me.
How can I control what I see? I ponder what time it is. What day it is. Soon I’ll be labeled a missing person and I shudder to think of my mom worried sick trying to find me. Losing me as well as my dad would be too much for her to take and I can’t bear the thought. Thank God she’s gone for a week. Finn and Liz will worry about me when I don’t show for school on Monday. They’ll try to reach me and eventually raise an alarm, but maybe I have a day or two.
The bleak despair pressing down from all sides makes me desperate to see my mom. I concentrate every molecule I have before attempting to open another portal. I vividly call to mind her face—her kind eyes especially—her voice, her laugh, and everything that makes her uniquely Judy Jane. I focus on how much I love her and I picture her aura, imagining her telling me it’ll be okay and smoothing my hair the way she does when I’m upset.
Holding this image in my mind’s eye, I swipe again and emit a gasping sob of relief and astonishment when it works. A window opens into a restaurant. My mom is sitting at a long table with her colleagues from work. Julie is next to her and they’re laughing about something. Instinctively, with tears running down my face, I cry out, “Mom!” but she can’t see or hear me. I try to reach my hand through the portal to touch her but my hand collides with a hard barrier. I may as well be trying to reach into a computer screen.
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