“How do we get to her?” I asked, examining the minefield of garbage. There was no way I was crawling over all of that. Sydney would hear us, if she hadn’t already, and I’d be helpless, mired in trash. At the warehouse, she’d acted as if she were ready to move on but then, she was a demon. I didn’t want to take any chances. I reached down and grasped James’ shaking hand. He squeezed mine back so hard it hurt. I had to make this as painless as possible for him. No heroics, no acrobatics, no drama. I took a deep breath and pulled him around the pit, searching the landscape and my own brain for an idea.
The fact that Jessica was still running around out there somewhere, gunning for me, made my hands itch. Reflexively, I reached towards my back pocket for the imaginary Glock. I couldn’t wait until I was old enough to buy a real one. I released James’ hand and knelt down, looking for something to throw. I was going to have to wake Sydney up and get her to come over to us. It seemed like the most logical option.
“Neil,” James choked out. I glanced up and found that Sydney was already awake. She was watching us with dark eyes, like endless pools. Again, I was struck with that connection between us. Sydney understood me. She was watching me with expectance and a high level of intelligence that belied what I already knew about demons. Sydney knew we were there to help. I rose slowly, trying not to startle either her or James.
“Sydney,” I called out. My voice rang across the emptiness and echoed back at me. Sydney, Sydney, Sydney. “Are you ready?” She rose to her feet, her hooves catching on the mattress she’d been sleeping on, and stumbled. James tried to rush forward and I held him back. His body stiffened but he complied. Just like I’d known to listen to him with Jessica, he understood that I knew best in this situation. “Are you going to let me do it this time?” I asked him, the stitch in my forehead twinging in remembrance. James grunted but didn’t speak. His eyes were all for her.
Sydney crawled through the dump at an agonizing pace and I had to wonder why she’d gone out there in the first place when I noticed the blood on her back leg. The mattress had been so stained that I hadn’t thought to connect the pink tinge to the demon. That’s why she was stumbling. James noticed it too and I felt his mental distress rain down on me like a thunderstorm.
I grabbed his hand and pulled him around the pit so that I could get a better look. Sydney’s leg injury looked an awful lot like Nethel’s back wound. I choked on my saliva and had to cough several times before I could catch my breath.
Jessica.
“Wait!” I called out but Sydney wasn’t listening. She was pulling against a rusted car door that had tangled in her raven hair, bucking and slashing her antlers through the air in distress.
There was something out there. I hadn’t noticed before but now I could feel it. Eyes. There were eyes boring into my spine like needles. I turned to James. He was so focused on Sydney that I had to shake him to get his attention.
“Try and stop her,” I said as his face registered confusion. “Just trust me,” I added, using the words he’d thrown at me when he’d told me to touch the red demon. “I’ll explain later.” I checked the harp once more to make sure that I’d have easy access to it and ran towards the trees. It might not have been the smartest thing to do. Maybe I was wrong, maybe the demon I was after wasn’t Jessica and I was going to get myself mauled. I decided to trust my gut and vaulted over an old bicycle and into the darkness of the forest.
Trash littered the ground here, too. There were so many old cars, wrapped in ivy, that at first, I thought they were a series of small hills. I kicked a headlight out of my way and kept my eyes open, my fingers poised on the strings of the harp. I thought about playing it, just in case, but I didn’t want to blow my cover. Jessica didn’t know about the harp yet. Once she did, she would be more cautious. I had to catch her off guard.
“Jessie?” I called, using her childhood nickname. She’d hated it as much as I’d hated Tattle but I thought it was worth a try. I wanted her attention directed at me, not Sydney. She was trying to get back at James. I just knew it.
“You’re choosing him over me?!”
I cringed at the memory and tried not to feel guilty. I hadn’t done anything wrong. Jessica had. She’d left me alone with no one when she’d killed herself. She’d taken my life, selfishly, and now, she was trying to do it again, to take my soul and bind it with her flute. She was the one who needed a good, old fashioned guilt trip. I swallowed and tried again. “Jessie?”
A low rumble reverberated through the trees. I stepped back and looked up, trying to find the source of the noise. All I could see were the tangled limbs of trees and little blocks of sunshine streaming through the foliage and dappling the dirty cars and black garbage bags with beautiful light.
“Jessica?” Another crash sounded behind me and I jumped, spinning around and expecting to find a lion or a girl, someone with my sister’s eyes. Instead, it was Ehferea, dark and beautiful, like a crumpled raven. I stumbled over an abandoned computer tower and knelt at her side. The symbolism of finding her, warm but unmoving, just like the crow, wasn’t lost on me. I swallowed and tilted her sharp chin towards me. Her eyes were open and blazing. I tried to jerk back but she grabbed my wrist with her sharp nails, black talons digging into my skin and making me bleed.
“She is here, tread carefully.” And then she was standing and loading her bow like nothing had happened. But I could see blood now, on her wings, in her hair, it glittered like rubies against the blackness of her feathers. She lifted the glowing bow, the dark and silver flame of her arrow highlighting the deep curves of her cheekbones, and shot, I thought, blindly into the trees.
There was a screech, like that of a dying falcon, and the yellow beak-less bird smashed through the foliage, feathers exploding outwards like a sun burst, and crashed right through the roof of a rusted orange sedan.
“Please, do not approach it. She requires a transitioner’s touch.” Ehferea turned away and started back towards the garbage dump. I chased after her, my eyes tracking the movements of the bird demon. It was flailing and screaming, wings bursting through the windows of the car, while blood leaked down the rusted metal and sank into the dirt. I glanced away, at Ehferea’s back.
“Where is she?” I asked, struggling to catch up. Ehferea paused and turned back towards me.
“I cannot track her precise location. She has stolen several artifacts from the Library. One of these is known as the soul tracker. Ironically, it actually interferes with my ability to locate Ms. O’Neil.” I raised an eyebrow. If I wasn’t mistaken, the stoic harpy had just used sarcasm. “Please be careful,” she said, reaching out and brushing her nails over my cheek. It was a light touch, almost affectionate. “She also has possession of a weapon that is able to wound my immortal flesh. I am afraid I cannot be as helpful to you as I would like.”
“Who are you?” I asked suddenly. I still knew almost nothing about the harpies. Ehferea smiled sardonically and turned away. I chased her into the clearing but couldn’t force another question past my lips. What I saw nearly broke my heart.
Sydney was lying on her side in the dirt. James hadn’t been able to stop her from climbing out of the pit but they were okay with Nethel standing guard over them. He was crying, softly, like only adults can. It was one of those sad, soft sobs that I recognized from my own experiences. He held her head in his lap, his hands tangled in her mess of dark hair, one hand stroking along her face, comforting her. There was blood everywhere, all over her white fur and pooling around her like a black mirror. She had strained herself climbing out of the dump and I had to choke back my own tears. I had to be strong for James. I couldn’t blame myself for Jessica’s actions.
“James?” I approached him carefully and slid my arms around his neck before kneeling down and pressing myself along his back. Comfort. Friendship. He needed it now more than ever. “Are you ready?” He didn’t respond, just kept stroking Sydney’s face and whispering a million things he was going to have to repeat when she ca
me back from the Library. She didn’t understand what he was saying. She was smart, for a demon, and in some way, she recognized him but he was wasting his beautiful words. “James?”
“I didn’t mean to leave like that. That morning, I just…” He rubbed his arm across his face and knelt down, planting a kiss on her forehead, between her antlers. “I was just confused. If I could go back, I’d do it different. I’d do everything right by you, Sydney. I’d take back the hurt and the pain. I love you, Sydney, and I’m so sorry. I am so fucking sorry…”
“He must hurry,” Ehferea whispered, her eyes scanning the tree line. “I believe your sister is coming.”
I scooted forward on my knees and grabbed James’ face in my hands. I could feel that needling against my spine again. I had been right. That was her.
“James?” I asked again. His eyes were glazed over with memories but he nodded slowly. “Are you ready?” He tried to pull away from me but I held him tight, the tips of my fingers digging into his skin. James shut his eyes and fat tears squeezed under his lids, traced across my skin, light as feathers. “When I read a book that I like, I cut the cover off and tack it to the walls of my bedroom.” James opened his eyes and stared at me. This is how he’d done it, how he’d calmed me before. It had worked brilliantly. “My oldest brother, Abe, was sixteen when I was born. My mother was already six months pregnant with him when she turned fifteen but her and my dad, they were soul mates so it was okay. That’s how I knew I loved Boyd but that I wasn’t in love with him. I didn’t look at him the same way my mom looked at my dad. Does that make any sense at all?”
James had stopped crying.
He reached his hands up and covered mine.
“Sydney’s favorite color is purple and she hates the rain because it looks like the sky is melting. She thinks the English language is the best one on earth because there are so many words to choose from but she says that her native language, Japanese, is prettier when it’s written because there are so many characters…” I smiled and placed that gentle kiss on his forehead that I’d been wanting to give him since the kitchen.
“I’ll take good care of her,” I promised him as he moved back and let me place Sydney’s head in my own lap. It was an honor to be trusted like that.
“I wouldn’t let anyone else touch her,” he told me. “Somehow, I knew deep down that I was waiting for you.” I smiled as tears stung my own eyes and glanced down at Sydney. I was so focused on her that I didn’t see Jessica, human once again, watching me from the safety of the trees.
“Sydney,” I began, gazing into those dark pools and seeing myself reflected back at me. “Are you ready?” She didn’t nod, she didn’t even really move but there was this imperceptible shift in her demeanor, like she was preparing for something. I took a deep breath and pressed my fingers against her forehead. “And I’m sorry about my sister,” I whispered as her body began to fade, leaving my lap empty and cold.
“No worries,” came a voice, soft and gentle, like snowflakes against a roof. You couldn’t really hear them but you knew they were there. “Take care of him.” Soft lips brushed my forehead, smooth and sweet, and then she was gone. I sat, stunned for a moment at the connection I’d felt with Sydney. We would’ve been friends, I just knew it. I gathered my courage and glanced over at James, expecting sadness, despair, maybe even regret.
But there was none of that.
He was smiling the most radiant smile I had ever seen on that beautifully scarred face.
“You set her free,” he told me with tears running across his lips and dripping down his chin. “You set us free.” I brushed the hair from his face and pressed my forehead against his. “Thank you,” he whispered finally. I nodded and used my thumbs to brush his tears away.
Nethel and Etherea approached us slowly, pausing a respectable distance away. At first, I thought they were going to warn us about Jessica. I could still feel her eyes on my back but this was James’ time. He needed this. My sister would have to wait.
“Tatum.” It was Ehferea. Her voice was still beautiful, still mystical and alluring, but there was a hint of strain there. “It’s time.” James and I looked up at her, confusion mirrored in both our faces.
“We have another assignment for you,” Nethel began and I almost choked. In her pale hand was a piece of paper and on it, an address that I recognized better than my own.
Boyd.
It was my turn to say goodbye.
I wilted, like a flower, into James.
You’re being selfish. I told myself. This is his time. You know that.
“Why now?” I asked, feeling as if our beautiful moment had been taken from us. “Why couldn’t you have waited. I…” James put a finger to my lips.
“These things can’t wait, Tate.” I didn’t correct him about my name. Neil was Boyd’s nickname for me anyway. Maybe James wanted his own identity as my friend. “If you love something, you have to let it go. I should’ve let Sydney go sooner and then…” He glanced at the pool of blood. I swallowed and nodded, blinking back fresh tears. I would do this. I had to do this.
I tilted my head back and looked at the sky. First, there was something I wanted to do.
James was sharing so much of himself with me, I would do the same.
“Come with me,” I said, rising and pulling him to his feet. “I want to show you something.”
I paused in the doorway for a moment, blocking James' view of my room. The crows laughed back at me with their silent faces. You are a freak. You always will be. Boyd was the only person left that loved you. Nobody else ever will. I steeled myself for rejection and moved aside. It was now or never. James had shared his story with me and we'd said goodbye to Sydney together. I wasn't ready to tell him about Boyd yet but I could at least share this. This dirty, wicked, twisted part of me.
“As you can see,” I said as I gestured lamely at my collection. “I'm the perfect grim reaper. I've always had this thing for death.” James stepped into the attic slowly with a look of wonder on his face, like he was entering another world. I just couldn't tell if he was pleased to be there or not. I sat on the edge of my unmade bed and plucked at the fraying edges of an old quilt I'd found in one of the trunks. He approached the crows first and brushed his fingers across the feathers on their sleek, black heads. His cheeks were still wet with tears but he wasn't crying anymore. My heart went out to him.
“Why?” He asked. I'd never had anyone ask me that before. Not even Boyd. Boyd had just accepted me the way I was. James, though I think he did accept me, liked to understand why, to dig beneath the surface for more. I wasn't sure which was better.
“You know,” I said, wetting my lips with my tongue. I'd never told anyone this before but if I'd learned anything in the past couple of days, it was that life was temporary. There wasn't time to hold anything back. If I didn't say what I wanted to say now, if I didn't express myself and come clean with who I really was, then I might never get the chance to. “There are only a few perfect moments of real death.” I paused again and took a deep breath. James kept his gaze on my collection. “Where you're no longer you but you're not someone else either.” My last statement caused him to turn around. He watched me with dark eyes, the shafts of moonlight through the window highlighting the stitches around his lips. “Before the flies come, before the people, the fire, whatever because when they do, you're not you anymore but something else and I...” Sadness hit me like a wrecking ball. I doubled over, my heart still pounding a painful requiem in my chest. “And I just wanted to stop that.” Tears fell and splashed against my bare knees.
Mom. Dad. Jason. Abe. Boyd.
“I wanted to prolong that moment forever and I...” James wrapped his arms around my head and pulled me against his chest. I didn't return the hug but I let him hold me. It was nice to be held by someone, to be loved by someone.
Does James love me?
I pushed that thought away. I wasn't ready for that. I might never be ready for that again.
“That's why we have to help. It's why we're here, to make sure that everyone gets a second chance.” There was no trace of sadness in his voice but I knew he had to still be thinking about Sydney. I nodded, using the end of his sweater to dry my eyes. I knew what I had to do, with Boyd, with Jessica. I just didn't want to do it.
“Will she hate me?” I asked him. James released me and stepped back, pushing his hair away from his face. I studied him in the moonlight, silhouetted against the backdrop of my bedroom and I decided that maybe, just a little, he was starting to become handsome to me. Or maybe he had been all along and I just hadn't noticed. I decided that I even liked the stitches on his lip.
“I don't know,” he replied honestly. “But I know you'll hate yourself if you don't do it. She isn't mired here by love, like you and me.” I almost blushed. I'd never blushed in my whole life and now I was feeling heat in my cheeks? It was wildly inappropriate. “She's letting herself be held here by hate. We can save her from that, Neil.” I bit my lip and tried to be strong. James had let Sydney go. It had hurt but he'd done it. He'd loved her enough to let her go. I had to do that for Boyd and for Jessica. I looked up at him, trying to project the strength that was starting to build in my heart into my voice.
“Let's do it.”
The harpies had disappeared again, presumably to search for Jessica, leaving James and I on our own. I decided to take the car although I knew it wasn’t fair to James. I just didn’t think my legs would carry me there, along that same path that had only led to pain. Unfortunately, the drive didn’t help. By the time we reached the trailer, my entire body was shaking like I was in the throws of a fever. My new found confidence had dropped off about halfway back, stranded on the side of the ride, lost, abandoned. I was going to have to see Boyd dead again, sprawled out across the floor of the trailer like a wasted dream. I bit my lip until I drew blood and a small stitch appeared over the wound. I nibbled at the thread with my teeth as I sat in the passenger seat and wished I could thank James for driving me. His hands were still corpse stiff, clenched around the steering wheel for dear life, his face drenched with a nervous sweat.
She Lies Twisted Page 14