by J. J. Bonds
I say nothing and stare at him expectantly. No way is he getting off that easy.
“They really aren’t as bad as they seem,” he says sheepishly. It’s a good look for him. He wears humility well. I definitely prefer this to the arrogance. “I know they’ve been unbearable to you, but your presence makes them uneasy. You’re an unknown. You come from a powerful family. And, you make no attempt to fit in. They’re afraid of you.”
“Me? I’m hardly a threat to them. Besides, it’s not me that makes them nervous. It’s you. I see how they look at you. Both of them.” He may be able to ignore it, but I’ve seen their hungry eyes. They both want more than friendship and more than he’s evidently willing to give.
“They’re my friends. Nothing more,” he says raising his eyebrows. “Nothing less. Both have been loyal to me over the years and both have proven reliable. Are they shallow? Yes. Can they be a pain? Hell, yes. But, I wouldn’t trade them for the world.” His solemn demeanor does me in. I find that I actually want to believe him. Whether I like them or not, it’s reassuring to know that he won’t sell them out just to get close to me or win my approval.
Of course he wouldn’t. He accepts them for who they are, no matter how flawed. Whatever they’ve done to earn his respect, it won’t be easily shaken. This discovery is both encouraging and discomforting at the same time. It’s good to see Nik as an individual, a real person, instead of just a means to an end. But, it could be dangerous as well. I have to be careful. I don’t want to give too much of myself away in order to get what I want.
“What about you?” he asks, turning the tables. “You come here and you barely interact with anyone. We’ve been working together for weeks, and I hardly know anything about you. All you care about is becoming an elite fighter. Not exactly girl next door behavior you know. What’s that all about?”
I shrug. “I know what I want. Is there something wrong with that?”
“Wrong? No. Intriguing? Yes. I’ve never met anyone like you. You’re so driven. So focused. I just wonder why?”
“Why?” I’m stalling. I know it. He knows it. But it doesn’t matter. We both know I’m not going to answer him truthfully. Not completely truthfully anyway. He may be comfortable baring his soul, but I’m not. Not by a long shot. “I don’t know. When I went to live with Aldo, I began training with his Linkuri guard, Viktor. It was empowering. It felt right. I’ve never lost that feeling. And, if I want to be one of them, I have to be the best.”
“I should’ve guessed,” he says, shaking his head in wonder. I watch as he anxiously rubs his hands over his well-muscled thighs.
“What?” I’m totally confused. I have no idea what he’s talking about.
“It’s so obvious. We’re so much alike.” He laughs then, his face alight with excitement, his blue eyes locked on mine. I like him this way. Relaxed. Serious. Real. Not the smartass relying on his charm and physique.
“It’s complicated,” he starts. “My parents have high aspirations for me. I’m their only son—their legacy. Crossroads is fine for Anya, but for me they have a grander plan. They’ve had a different set of expectations since the day I was born,” he says wearily.
I remember what Anya said about how Nik used to be close to his parents. It’s clear why she used the past tense. There doesn’t seem to be any love lost today.
“They believe that one day I will sit on the Consiliul de Batrani. Their expectation is that I will someday join the Elders. I, however, have my own ideas. Whether they approve or not, it’s my life. Everything I’ve ever done is to prepare myself for the Linkuri. It may not have as much prestige as the Council, but it’s what I want. It’s what I’ve always wanted.”
“I’m lucky, I guess. Aldo will support me in whatever I do. He would never push me into a life I didn’t want. I guess I didn’t realize how important that was until now. Things must get pretty tense when you’re home.”
“Only when the subject of school, politics, or my future comes up,” he jokes, standing up. “Ready to get to work?”
“Always.”
“Good. I was thinking of trying something new today. Are you up for it?”
“I’m up for whatever you can throw at me. I just hope that today it’s weapons training. I’ve been dying to get beyond hand-to-hand.”
“You’re in luck then,” he says, clapping his hands together excitedly.
We walk to the back wall of the training center side by side. Before I can stop myself I’m sighing with contentment. It’s a thing of beauty. The wall is lined with weaponry. It starts at the floor and stretches up over my head. There are weapons of all kinds. It would be impossible not to find something you like. As I admire the sight, Nikolai sweeps his hand over the wall in a broad gesture. “Ladies choice.”
I don’t even know where to start. I’d love to master the katana sword, but logic tells me I should start simple. Maybe a bo or the sai. A knife would be good, but there’s no doubt in my mind that I probably want a weapon that can put more distance between Nik and me until I’m more comfortable. I’m willing to endure a little pain for the sake of training, but I have no interest in getting cut to pieces today. I run my hands lovingly over the protective case of the sword and promise myself that I will graduate to this weapon eventually.
“What do you recommend?” I ask finally. It’s clear I won’t be able to choose on my own. Besides, he’s been through all of this before, so he probably knows where I should really be starting.
“Let’s start with the bo. It’ll give you a longer reach and can easily be incorporated with your martial arts training.”
“Start basic and work our way up to the marvels of modern man?” I ask, eyeing the locked arsenal.
“Katia, I promise that by the time I’m done with you, you’ll be able to pick up any weapon in this room without a moment of hesitation.”
“I like the sound of that,” I say pulling a bo from the wall and spinning it in my hands to get a feel for the weight. “Let’s get started.”
**********
“Tell me about your dreams,” Anya commands plaintively. I had a feeling she wasn’t going to let them go after our last session. I have to remind myself that I opened this can of worms by telling her about the nightmares in the first place.
“I told you before. They’re no big deal.” I have to fight the urge to squirm in my chair. I settle for twisting my hair. I’m still not sleeping well, and the dreams are getting progressively worse, but Anya doesn’t need to know that.
“Then you won’t mind talking about them.” She’s eyeing me watchfully. I’ve seen this look before. It’s usually followed by commentary I don’t like and don’t want to hear. I brace myself for the worst. I know I have to keep my temper in check with Anya today. “How often are you feeding?”
I lie. “I don’t know. Two or three times a day?” The answer is actually more like four or five which I know is a lot even for an adolescent. She’d be even more concerned if she knew how much blood I was consuming just to keep myself functioning properly.
“You’re under a great deal of stress, Katia. Maybe we should lighten your course load?”
“No!” I protest anxiously. I scoot to the edge of my chair, prepared to beg if that’s what it takes. “I can handle it. Really.” I force a smile. I’m getting better at lying. I feel like it’s all I’ve been doing since I got to Crossroads. Plus, I know that if I drop classes I’ll just have to make them up later. “I can handle the work and my dreams.”
“I asked you last time what you thought they meant and you said nothing. Do you still think that?” she asks quietly.
“Yes.” I am emphatic on this point. I refuse to give my nightmares credence by wondering at their meaning. It’s bad enough they’re costing me precious sleep. When I looked in the mirror this morning, I could hardly believe my own eyes. I know I look terrible. The hollowness of my face is a testament to my exhaustion.
“The man from your dreams, the one with the red eyes, have
you dreamt of him recently?”
“Why? What difference does it make?” I snap irritably.
“It’s just a question. Why are you getting so upset?” Anya asks gently, pushing her dark hair back from her face. She’s not nearly as soft and innocent as I’d imagined when we first met. I now realize that there’s no haircut in the world that could make her less formidable. I’d been so naïve that day at the airport.
I cross my arms defiantly and shift my chair so I don’t have to look her in the eye. We both know why I’m upset. It’s obvious. That creepy monster has been in my dreams more frequently. Always stalking me. Always trapping me like a caged animal.
“Yes. He’s in my dreams. All the time.” I admit, answering her original question. I hate conceding this. It’s just another weakness that she can exploit at a later time.
“Why do you think that is? Is he someone you know? Someone from your past maybe?”
Yeah, right. Is she serious? Where I grew up the men didn’t have inhuman red eyes, and she knows it. “I don’t know. I don’t think so. But there is a sense of… familiarity.”
“A connection?” she prods, eyes blazing.
“They’re just dreams, Anya. Nothing more,” I tell her firmly. “You were right about one thing, though,” I say.
“What’s that?”
“Nik. He’s kept his word. We’re training together again.”
She smiles smugly. “I told you so.”
**********
“Why are we doing this again?” I ask, eyeing the street carolers warily. Their cheery rendition of Frosty the Snowman makes me want to turn and run.
“Because I need to get a Christmas present for Keegan.” Shaye speaks to me slowly as though reminding a small child of an important task. “Don’t you need to get something for Aldo?” she asks hopefully. “The holidays are right around the corner. This could be your last chance to shop.”
“What do you get the man who has everything? I wouldn’t even have the first idea of what to get him. Lissette will be easier.”
I used to love the holidays. Christmas cheer, the smell of freshly baked cookies, peace on Earth, and good will toward men. All of it. I’m not really feeling it this year though. I’m just relieved that Shaye wanted to come downtown and hit the specialty shops instead of going to the mall. The Rutland mall is downright dismal. I made the mistake of going there once for a pair of sneakers. It’s not a mistake I’ll make again.
Strolling along the streets of downtown Rutland, I find it easy to push aside any feelings of nostalgia and focus on the task at hand. There’s very little here to remind me of home. The towns’ usual feeling of quaintness is exacerbated for the holidays. The city has strung colored lights all along the store fronts and street lamps. It’s probably quite pretty at night. As we navigate our way along the busy sidewalk, it’s clear I’m one of the few who hasn’t been swept up in the mood of the season.
“Bah humbug.”
“You must have some ideas?” Shaye whines piteously. “What do you think Keegan would like?”
“How should I know? I can’t even figure out what to get Aldo. Or weren’t you listening?”
“Someone got up on the wrong side of the bed. Where is your holiday cheer?” she sulks, throwing her gloved hands in the air and shaking her head in frustration. “This is supposed to be fun!” Apparently my lack of spirit is trying her patience. I feel a little guilty for ruining her fun, but I did warn her about my mood before we left. Still, she’d insisted on having company, and I agreed to make the best of it. I know I’m not keeping up my end of the deal.
“I’m going to check out the bookstore,” she tells me as we approach Amy’s. “Feel free to join me if you think you can fake some enthusiasm.”
“I’ll catch up,” I tell her halfheartedly. I watch as Shaye eagerly disappears into the dimly lit store. The bells on the door chime softly to announce her presence to the shop owner.
“Bah humbug,” I repeat taking a seat on the wooden bench out front of the store. I’ll pretend to be happier when Shaye returns, but for the time being I’m pleased to just be left alone with my acerbic mood. It’s not something I can explain to Shaye, but the looming holiday is just another sad reminder of my old life, of everything I’ve lost.
I watch as the humans scurry past, their breath clouding on the crisp air. Everyone is bundled up in their warmest winter clothing. It’s a rainbow of scarves, parkas, and beanies. I make a point of counting all of the hats with a pom-pom on top. Those were always my favorite as a child. I count seven of them before my game is interrupted by the squeals of a child.
I smile in spite of myself as a little boy charges past, his cheeks aglow from the bitter cold. He can’t be more than eight or nine years old. There’s a devilish gleam in his eye, as he runs by with his coat unzipped and his Spiderman scarf trailing behind. I see his mom further down the block laden with shopping bags. She’s given chase, but is no match for this boy on a mission.
“You stop at the corner Damian!” she shouts breathlessly. A wise warning as the street is thick with traffic today. The cars whiz past, most of them obeying the speed limit.
I return my attention to the boy, Damian, just in time to see him skidding to a halt on the corner no more than ten feet from where I sit. He didn’t stop soon enough. He slips on the ice and his momentum carries him forward, tumbling into the street. I’m off the bench before he hits the ground. He’s paralyzed with fear as he stares down the bumper of an approaching F-150. His eyes grow as wide as saucers and his mouth hangs open in a silent scream, but he doesn’t make a sound.
Lucky for Damian I grab the back of his jacket and yank him back to safety as the truck barrels past, leaving us in a plume of exhaust. The stench of burning rubber is in the air. The driver had tried to stop, but he never would have been able to. The truck slows but continues down the road. Crisis averted. The driver has decided to keep going. He’s probably just as scared and relieved as Damian. Hell, as scared and relieved as myself.
I know it’s only been a matter of seconds, but it feels like an eternity has passed. I can’t even think about what would have happened if I hadn’t been able to get to him in time.
Damian and I stand there staring at one another gravely, both in shock. His mother sidles past me and throws her arms around the boy. She’s dropped her packages several feet short of where we stand. She probably threw them when she saw her child in danger.
“Oh, thank goodness! Are you okay?” she wails. “Don’t you ever do that again!” The boy doesn’t have to say anything. He knows how lucky he is to have avoided a disastrous outcome and the wrath of his mother. Tears well up in his eyes, and she hugs him again. Poor kid. She’s holding him so tight I doubt he can catch a breath. A new wave of sadness washes over me as I watch them. When I turn to leave, Damian’s mother grabs my hand.
“Thank you! Thank you! Thank you!” she gushes. “I can’t thank you enough. I don’t know how you did it, but thank you! You saved my son’s life.”
“It was nothing really,” I tell her modestly, pulling my hand free of her grasp and shoving it in my pocket. “I’m just glad he’s okay.”
A crowd has started to gather. Everyone’s Christmas shopping is put on momentary hold to see what all the fuss is about. People start patting me on the arm, telling me what a wonderful thing I’ve done, how I saved the boy’s life. I need to get out of here. Where the hell is Shaye?
I politely excuse my way through the crowd. Just as I reach for the door of the bookstore it bursts open, and Shaye and I are reunited to the clanging of the bells. I grab her arm and abruptly steer her in the other direction, away from the commotion on the corner.
“Where are we going? What’s the rush?” She’s confused but doesn’t resist. Shaye doesn’t seem to mind being dragged along, as she’s mistaken my anxious retreat for shopping enthusiasm. “I found a gift for Keegan by the way. A journal. It’s perfect!”
I’m certain the incident on the corn
er will be quickly forgotten. I’m certain that no one was watching me before I grabbed the boy. All eyes were on him, just as mine were. Still, I don’t want to stick around and answer questions. I’m no hero, that’s for sure. Saving that boy’s life is only one checkmark on a very lopsided balance sheet.
I slow my pace as we turn the corner. Shaye continues to babble on about the journal and pulls it from her shopping bag so that I, too, can admire the wonderful gift. I have to admit it’s nice. It’s got a soft leather cover and a heavy strap which wraps around the book to bind it closed. It’s a far cry from the modern crap sold at most stores. The journal is reminiscent of the sort that would have been used by our ancestors.
“And look!” She opens the cover so that I can inspect the interior. “There’s a spot inside the front cover where I can write a personal inscription. I just have to make sure I don’t screw it up.” She laughs musically, and I feel the tension begin to slide out of my body.
“It’s nice,” I tell her. “Keegan is going to love it.” I’m pretty sure he’d love anything Shaye gave him, but this really is a thoughtful and special gift.
“What about you? Did you figure out what to get for Aldo and Lissette yet?”
“Actually, I did.” We stop in front of the jewelry store. I’m relieved to see that the item I want is still displayed in the window. We’d passed it earlier when we parked the car. I hadn’t given it much thought at the time, but after the incident with the boy I’m now sure it’s the right gift. “That’s it,” I tell her pointing.
“The picture frame? That is such a good idea. I wish I’d thought of that!” she says enviously. “Oh, well. It would be too risky for Keegan to keep a photo of us on display anyway.”
I squeeze her hand sympathetically. It has to be hard keeping the relationship a secret. But if anyone found out about it, Keegan would be banished from the school immediately. In light of being separated, secrecy seems the better option.