by AJ Brooks
Taylor pats my arm and I feel like I’ve turned to stone but not by her look. By her words.
Like you knew her in another lifetime.
So obvious.
But so impossible.
XIX
Zarah
Slow blinks reveal beige walls. Posters. Video game sounds. I’m at Max’s house.
“It was all real, Venia,” a quiet voice whispers, but I barely hear it over the sound of Mario Kart.
“Cassius.” My heart stops as my eyes find his lips, and my fingers reach for his shirt, clutching it in an unconscious effort to keep him close. “Why do you call me that?”
His hand covers mine as he watches me, radiating that familiarity through my body and helping me relax.
“I can answer that question about as easily as you could answer mine.” He’s smiling and pushing a strand of hair off my face. I frown.
“What question?”
“Why is it that no matter where you are, no matter what I do to protect you, trouble waits for you at every turn?”
The truth in his question mixed with the un-connectability of it to my question is a reminder of how upside down my world feels right now.
“I don’t know anything.” The heat of a tear slides down my cheek. “I’m still hoping anything from the last couple years is real. Like, once I question one part of my reality, I start to question all of it.”
His face falls in sadness. He’s looking at me in a way he’s never looked at me before. “I’m sorry. I won’t disappear on you again, okay? I promise I’m here for good now.”
“That would be nice.” I try to smile, but it feels weird. My body feels weird. Panic bubbles up inside me as I wonder how much of the life I’ve lived takes place in my head.
“Don’t call me Venia anymore. It brings back too many things,” I say and he smiles an understanding smile, helping to suppress the panic.
“Of course, Zarah.”
I hiccup once, and the game noise is shut off.
“Z?” Taylor leaps to me and falls to her knees in front of Max’s couch.
I grasp her hands. “Please tell me you’re actually here.”
Taylor grins wide, pulls my hand to her mouth and chomps down on my finger.
“Ow!” I snatch my hand away and sit up, an actual smile pushing at the edges of my mouth. Then I shake out my hand because the girl’s got some sharp teeth.
“Real.” She folds her arms. “And I can kick Max’s ass at almost every game in his cabinet. That’s also real.”
Max scoffs. “We only had time to play three.”
I close my eyes as I smile wider because it’s so Taylor to put her toughest self out first. Something I need to start doing.
I look to Cy, his head angled down, that wonderful feel of him flooding me again. “I need a sec with Cassius,” I say.
Taylor’s up and dragging Max to the small kitchen. The moment she’s there, she shuts these odd shutter doors and starts banging around, trying to give us privacy I guess.
“It was stupid. Last night.” I slowly sit up. “I kept telling myself it was only one. Only one high. All the parts of my life have felt over-lapped and confused.”
Cassius looks at his lap with an inexplicably sad expression, but doesn’t say anything. I wish he could look at me.
“And she says you’re real.”
“Wanna bite my finger?” He holds out his hand. Instead I drag my fingertips along his palm slowly feeling his smooth skin.
I trace the lines and slide my fingers over his a few more times, marveling at the perfection of his skin. He feels like someone I’ve known forever, instead of someone I’ve spent a few hours with. He clears his throat and pushes a shuddering breath from his chest.
I watch as our fingers lace together and slide apart over and over. Every feeling I’ve ever felt shouldn’t be wrapped up in something as simple as a touch. He brings our hands to his chin and breathes in deeply.
“I need answers Cy.”
“I’ll tell you anything you want to know,” he whispers, his eyes closed and his head resting on the back of the couch.
“Are you...? Are you what you said you were...in my apartment?” I close our hands together on my lap, not ready to let him go. "Gods are just stories."
He tilts his head to look at my lips, his gaze traveling down my neck. "We aren't stories Zarah. This,” he touches my necklace, “and the knife from last night were both from my mother, Emilia. Either on their own should have made you practically invisible from anyone in my world, but it had the opposite effect.”
His voice trails out like he has more to say.
“I know this design, Cassius.”
Another brief glimpse of his gold colored eyes through thick lashes makes my stomach flutter. “What are you talking about?”
“I’ve drawn this over and over. It’s my tattoo. It’s on both things you gave me. What does it mean?”
I turn and slide my shirt off my shoulder.
“May I touch it?” he asks softly and I smile at him over my shoulder. I just felt up his whole arm and still he asks.
“You don’t have to ask anymore, Cassius. It’s okay. You are, I mean.”
Cassius’ fingers trace the edges of my tattoo sending another round of heat through me.
“Do you believe this?” he asks and I frown.
“Believe what?”
“That Forgiveness is the attribute of the strong?” There’s an odd hope in his voice laced through the sadness.
“I do.”
He says nothing as he traces the design once more and pulls my shirt back up, like he knows I prefer the cover. Only my messed up head would be more turned on by a guy dressing me than undressing me.
“Do you know?” I ask.
“The symbol is something from my mother’s things,” he says. “That’s all.”
So, there’s no way I should know it.
His fingers trace the edge of my hair and his breathing is odd, like he keeps trying to say something, but the words won’t come. I open my eyes to see him staring at me with familiarity, curiosity, and something more. In this moment he becomes less a figment of my imagination and instead someone who knows more about me than anyone.
“We’ll figure this out Zarah. Maybe we’ll have better luck if we do it together this time?”
The sudden lightness in his voice should make me angry. Frustrated with Cassius for popping in and out of my life and trying to fix me without me asking him to, but I can’t be. Even the drastic situation with my dad... As much as I want to hate him, it’s like the frustration slips away unless I’m really focused. Like I’m physically unable to hold onto the anger. I’m not sure if that part of me is a blessing or a curse.
“Thank you,” I say after a long silence.
Cy grimaces as he stares at the carpet. “I’m thinking you have very little reason to thank me.”
“You saved my life.”
“No.” I swear it feels like he shrinks as he rests both hands on my face for the briefest moment before letting them drop. “No. I’m pretty sure I’m the one who endangered it. Mortals are not supposed to know about us.” The way he says “us” picks at my brain but he doesn’t give me time to dwell when he gestures to the kitchen. “Be careful what you tell those two, but it might help you for them to know about me, the things you see, the... Well, it’s up to you. Keep the knife on you all the time.”
“And where are you going?” Panic at him not being around starts to set in, and I scoot forward on the couch.
“I just need to make a few connections then I’ll be back.”
“That’s not at all cryptic. I thought we were doing this together.”
He smiles. “I know. I didn’t mean... I’m sorry. But there are people in my world who won’t be as open to you as I am. I need to talk to them alone first.”
“What can I do?”
“Try to remember.” His words come with a force that sets me back.
“Remember
what?” What does remembering have to do with anything?
“Why you paint what you paint.”
“I paint what I see in my head, Cassius. It’s not a matter of remembering, it’s a matter of the connection between my brain and my paintbrush.”
Every crack on the surface of his skin shows itself for the briefest of seconds before he drops down in front of me, putting our faces close together. “Zarah, look at me." He cups my cheeks and I let my eyes meet his for only a second, remembering how swiftly he changes to stone. He tilts my head up with his thumbs.
"No. Look at me. Really look at me." He stares into my eyes and his fingers stiffen against my cheeks. His skin gets cold but I don't look away. There's an honesty in his eyes that I could never see before because he never let me look at him like this. My heart thunders with the truth in his frozen eyes and my hands come up to his face, my fingers running over the cracked cool marble that used to be his skin. I close my eyes again and feel him relax. Feel him return to flesh and warmth.
"I promise. This is real. I am real." His voice slides over me as his lips press against my forehead. "And I have to go.”
I clutch his arm. “Wait.”
He stares at where I’m holding him before meeting my eyes, but again, only for a moment. His shoulders roll back and forth a few times, and I watch his muscles flex.
“You were really there, then. With me. In my closet. At my...”
His nod is so subtle I barely register it. His eyes looking anywhere but at me.
“Why?”
“That’s impossible to answer.”
I grab his arm tighter. “Please.”
“I had to. I felt compelled to...help.” His mouth twitches into a frown.
I let my fingers trace the veins on his forearm to the back of his hand, feeling the perfection of him. “It did.”
Our eyes meet briefly, and then he’s gone.
< - - - >
Taylor loops her arm through mine as we walk up the sidewalk. Her and Max were giggling like children in the kitchen when Cassius walked out the door.
“So, you and the coffee guy, huh?” I ask, not wanting to talk about me anymore.
“And you and the god huh?” She bumps my hip.
I shake my head. “We’re just trying to solve a puzzle together. That’s all.”
“And you seriously want to go home?” Taylor asks.
No. Of course I don’t want to go home, but I don’t want to crash with Max, and Taylor’s parents already put me up for one night.
“Your mom, Z…” Taylor lets out a breath. “You have to know you’re welcome at my place anytime.”
We walk in silence for a bit. My alleyway appears far too soon.
“Are you going to brave classes tomorrow?” she asks.
I grasp the railing of the stairway, my duffel slung over my shoulder and the comfort of the necklace and knife washing through me. “I’ll be there.”
She points with two hands. “I’m coming here if you don’t show.”
I take a few more steps up. “I’ll be there.”
“Then…” She pops her lips so loud it echoes in the alley. “Then I shall see you tomorrow.”
I nod as I continue up the stairs, but mostly I’m bracing myself for whatever I’ll find inside. When I push open the door, Tennyson leans against our makeshift counter with a cup of coffee in his hand, and Mom’s nowhere to be seen.
He freezes with his mug a few inches from his thin lips. His short beard is curled over his top lip making me not want to ever use that mug again.
“Your mom’s asleep upstairs. She’s very lucky.” His words are kind of stilted, like he wants to be sharing a space with me about as much as I want to be sharing a space with him.
“Yeah,” I say as I shift my weight. How soon before I can slip into my partitioned room without it being rude? I don’t know this guy. We’re very alone.
“Um…” He shifts the mug in his hands a few times. “I’m… I’ll go check on her.”
“Yeah,” I say again. The moment he turns from me, I head for my room area and slide my partitions as closed as I can get them.
I press my hand on my frantic heart—I hadn’t even realized it was beating so hard. My legs weaken, and I sit on my bed. Now it’s time to try and find a happy place in my brain so I can sleep. Nothing comes to mind as I move through my routine of braiding my hair and brushing my teeth and finding the warmest, softest clothes I can.
Nothing I think about feels safe. My paintings, my past, even Cassius. After a while, I press my fingers over the charms on the necklace and I see a beach. Feel the breeze. Smell the salty, hot air. Okay… Here, I might actually be able to sleep.
< - - - >
“School is so wretchedly boring when I know there’s a sexy god of love out there with the hots for you...” Taylor slumps as we march across campus. Nearly a week, and she’s barely left my side.
“It’s not like that. He’s not...” But actually. He is. “I can’t believe you’re just rolling with this story.”
“It totally makes sense, though, right? He’s in your paintings and in your dreams. Even I’ve seen him turn to stone, and I’m as sane as they come.” She sighs, clutching her hands to her chest, a look of mock swoon on her face, and I smirk.
“Are you sure about that?” I jump away as she moves to punch my shoulder. “Math for you and art for me, so I’ll meet you right after.”
“Whatever bitch, I’m mad at you now.” She sticks her tongue out at me making laugh out loud, which is something I don’t do nearly often enough.
“You’re going to have to be in a different room than me for over an hour. You know you’ll miss me.” I tease her about the ridiculous venture to keep me within sight or sound. She’s worried about drugs. I’m worried about whatever chased me the other night, and when Cy might come back. She’s worried about the creatures too, but she hasn’t seen them yet. Until that happens, I’m not sure the threat will feel real. Right now, my relapse is what feels real to her.
“You don’t answer your texts, and I’m going to check on you.” She gives me a look that dares me to contradict her, which I won’t. Small campus. We’re in the same building.
“And what can you possibly do?” I ask.
Her face falls for the briefest moment before she quips back, “I’m pretty sure I could take you if I needed to. And anyway, if one of those things come after you again, there’ll be two of us.”
“Fine.” I sigh, like she’s annoying me, but I’ve never been watched over this way, so I don’t mind like I should. But I can’t help wondering where Cassius has gone.
< - - - >
Ten minutes of sketching in art and a light breeze tickles its way up my back so I let my hair down and pull my jacket on more tightly.
My phone vibrates in a text.
Going to the bathroom. See you in five.
I stretch and head for the door and the prof barely looks at me. This so beats high school and begging permission for bodily functions.
Another chill runs up my back. Something slimy and disorienting.
The same feeling I had just before Crystal was attacked.
Taylor.
I break into a sprint for the girls’ bathroom a million scenarios rolling through my head.
Someone has Taylor and used her cell phone.
Those gross zombie things have her trapped.
The huge dogs are chasing her up the hallway.
A million illogical scenarios roll through my head, but with my life, the illogical things happen.
Taylor laughs as I burst through the door, slamming it against the white tiled wall. “Dude. Chill. That’s not conspicuous.”
I release a breath as a flood of worry dumps out leaving me weak. “Sorry. I’m jumpy.”
“I can’t imagine why.” She laughs.
“Well, shit.” I glance in the mirror at the thick liner under and over my eyes.
“What?”
“I didn’t hav
e to pee before I stepped in here.” I walk behind her and stick my tongue out at her so she can see my reflection.
Taylor snorts as she messes her hair up and starts again with trying to find a way to make it all bigger than it normally is.
Actually closing the stall door, knowing it’s only me and Taylor in here, gives me a chance to take a deep breath. And I do.
Where is Cy? I wish I’d had a clearer head the morning he left because I would have asked a lot more questions. A million things could go wrong between now and whenever he comes back this way. To my world. Crazy.
Taylor’s singing some song I don’t know when it’s cut off by a scream, and without a thought, I jump onto the toilet seat, grabbing the knife and holding my breath. It pulses in black, weaving another shot of terror through me. I should be busting through that door to rescue her or something.
I hear steps and what I think is her being dragged. A choking noise. My stomach rolls over.
What am I supposed to do?
I hold my breath, but my heart’s thrumming too fast to go without oxygen, and it takes every ounce of self-control in me to slowly pull air through my nose. The last stall door slams open, shaking the whole frame of stalls.
I whimper as the next one slams open something inside me screaming to hold my ground.
Holy shit. Two more and then me.
Slam. The concussion hits my ears and my chest and my legs, which are weaker by the second.
I’m next. Holyshitholyshitholyshit....
I grasp the small knife and put one foot on the wall behind me to help push forward. My stall slams open and I slash forward into what looks like thin air. The blade stretches out twice as long, glows black and I see a thin wisp of black smoke before silence reigns again.
Is that it?
One?
The faintest sliver of blackened rotting flesh and eyes passes my door before disappearing again.
I hold what is now a sword in both hands, knowing I’m fighting blind, and knowing there are more. I didn’t want this. I didn’t ask to meet someone who is not from this world or to end up with a weird necklace and sword so I could fight creatures I wish didn’t exist.