by Kade Cook
She remembers why she decided to return but cannot grasp what good she can do for the world like this. She is nothing. Especially in a world built of Magik. Even though she had wished for so long to just be normal again, a non-Magikal human being again, she is empty without it. Her mind is too quiet, deafening almost. Gabrian’s world seems too big for the pathetic shell of a ghost she had returned as.
“You told me I was needed, convinced me to come back to help. How can something so pitiful be of any good to anyone?”
Rhada grins, his eyes sparkling with hope. “You must try to understand that you, your gifts, will not be as they once were before.”
“But that is just it. I have no gifts at all,” Gabrian tries to say but her words are garbled, caught in her upset and tripping on her dismay. “I heard them all talking. I don’t even have an aura anymore.”
Her body tremors under her duress, sobs breaking her words into pieces of high-pitched whimpers that are barely comprehensible. The dark burden of her despair sinks in her chest, pulling her down into a dark well of sorrow. “At least if I am gone, everyone I plague can mourn then move on with their life. I would no longer be a hindrance to anyone.”
Rhada lifts a hand to cup her cheek, thumbing away the moisture falling, fed by her misery. “You, my dear, are nothing of the sort.” He leans in to place his soft warm lips on her forehead, gently cupping the back of her head, and kisses her. Leaning back and looking her straight on, he continues his plea. “You are a miraculous and wondrous seed in waiting. All you need is a place to grow and a little hope does not hurt either,” he softly hums and rises to his feet, gathering a small towel from the top of the sink and lowers himself again.
Laying the cloth over the open wound, he presses gently, holding it onto her wrist. “Do not dwell upon what lies on the surface. You must seek solace deep within. Everything else is of little concern.”
Letting go of her wrist, Rhada makes an obvious glance to her other hand and notices the shard of glass still tightly bound within her fingers before rising to his feet.
Gabrian watches her friend, desperate and wanting to absorb some of the faith he has so openly expressed in her importance. “Find your hope, Gabrian,” he whispers to her once more, his voice fading into a hollow echo.
“Rhada, wait…” she chokes out, but he is no more. Only her will is left to keep her company. The darkness which offered to consume her is wiped away as a band of mental light flips the switch on within her, subsiding the wave of sorrow she was drowning in. The uncharacteristic impulse no longer carries any weight as she stands up from the floor and throws the shard of glass into the garbage.
Gabrian turns to stare down the reflective monster looking back at her and glares at it. Turning on the tap, she places her wrist under the rush of cold water, slowing the bleed, and clears the mess of her moment of darkness away down the drain. She replaces the bloodied hand towel with a new one and lays it across her wrist then searches under the sink for the first aid kit to bandage up the cut.
A white cloth wrap decorates her arm and Gabrian grins at it, pleased enough with her handiwork. She cleans the sink from the debris of her almost self-inflicted tragedy. Once unsoiled, she splashes her malformed face with the brisk spray of water and pats it dry with a clean cloth, forcing herself to face the unsettling reflection in the mirror—to look past the surface and seek the soul waiting within.
Gabrian’s heart drops as the two meet and cringes for a moment. Her mind reels to the last time she stared this hard into the looking glass with so much turmoil. It seemed like a lifetime ago.
Maybe it was.
She is not the same girl she knew then, nor the same soul. All she knows is that she chose to stay and so stay she shall even from within a monster’s shell.
Chapter Ten
On the Loose
Feeling the pressure beneath her fragile façade building, Gabrian wipes the dew blurring her vision and hobbles to her closet with a new determination and a new desire. The smell of stale sweat mixed with the coppery scent of her indiscretion reeks from her pajamas, nearly gagging her, so a quick change of clothes is in order.
Slowly riffling through her belongings, she pulls on a pair of grey track pants, a white tee, and her black hoodie. Easy as pie but the socks give her a battle. Gabrian sits on the side of her bed, breathless and nearly exhausted.
“This is ridiculous,” she huffs, the pounding of her pulse thudding in her ears. She had remained still for far too long; it’s time to get back to plain old Gabrian, and back to the girl she knew before the Realm had claimed her. She may not have any Magik but she still has her hell-bent stubbornness and her brains, and they scream at her to gather her life back, to sort out a plan and to run.
Even if it means shuffling her decrepit remains of a body down the road only a couple feet, she needs to claim back her life, step by step. Hurrying as best she can before Tynan returns, she changes the bandages on her arm, giving the cut a bit more padding in case it opens. Gabrian glances one last time in the mirror. Inhaling a deep defiant breath, she glares at her reflection and points to the monster staring back. “This isn’t over,” she growls, turning her back to it. “Not by a long shot.”
Grabbing a toque from the top shelf of the closet, she slips it on over the patchwork of hair on her head and stands pondering a dilemma just brought to mind—her uncle Ty. Her self-designated babysitter, who is all consumed in his pity and protection for her well-being, no doubt will protest her wanting to go from bedridden mess to instant athlete needing to leave the house for a run. Without question, this is going to be a no go.
Her eyes dart around the room and she taps a bony finger against her chalky pale lips, trying to conjure up a plan of action. A loud caw destroys her silent pondering, not to mention scaring the crap out of her. Her heart nearly jumps out of her chest. On the ledge of her window, in his finest black suit, sits her trusty stalker.
No, not a stalker, not any longer.
He is her friend.
He had come to sit there every day since her return.
Her heart warms, thawing the ice that had encased and hardened it. Theo’s ebony sheen drapes in a prismatic silhouette against the low setting sun, bringing her eyes to water and a sprig of joy to dance in her soul, urgently aware of how much this black-winged bird has been a life line. Theo’s shiny black beak taps gently on the pane of glass separating them. His head tilts as he gazes at her, watching and waiting on her.
“Hmm,” she hums twisting her lips into a crooked grin, eyeing the bird. “Clever bird, aren’t you?”
Theo has just given her the answer.
The window.
Her uncle is soon to make his rounds with an offering to bring her some soup and everything else under the sun to make her more comfortable. Gabrian knows she must make a quick exit, severing any possibility of his interference in her grand scheme of escape.
Turning the latch on the top of the window and lifting the frame from the bottom, her biceps ache. Her forearms threaten to force a strike and quit but she grits her teeth and pulls with all her might upward on the old pane of glass, hoping it will give and trying hard not to make too much noise. Theo rattles a happy gurgle and jumps from the ledge, flying off to the nearest branch to take up his watch there.
The window creaks and she groans in her strife to open the stubborn pane but she lets out a curse, pressing her last remains of energy into her efforts, and finally, it gives in to her demand with a quick release and a face-plant by Gabrian into the half-lifted glass.
“Bugger, bugger, bugger,” she hisses, rubbing the ache now burning across her cheek and into the bridge of her nose. Blinking away the pain, she grins just the same at her success. The security of the window has been breached and it is now open. A delightful waft of fall’s warm breath brushes over her flesh, tickling on the way by as it waltzes through the opening of the window into her room and washes away the oxygen-deprived air around her, cleansing it.
Gabrian cannot help filling her lungs with the gift, inhaling deep enough to make her cough. Unhealthy and tired lungs are to fault. Cheating death of its claim comes at a price. And with no Borrower Magik to heal her this time, Gabrian’s journey to recovery is going to be a long one but she is ready.
With one last peek over her shoulder at her room, Gabrian’s hands tremble a bit. For the first time in her life, the absence of security is now profoundly all around her. Her level of courage dips as she moves forward. A longing for her mom and dad’s gentle watch, for the warm blanket of Shane’s arms around her, even her uncle’s constant check-in’s that smother her in the knowledge of the perverse mess her life is tightens the strings of muscles in her shoulders in her vast awareness of how the world really is.
The void is maddening, biting at her from the inside, and so she makes good on her attempt at escape. She slides her small body through the frame of her window and grips the side of the ledge, looking down at her dangling limbs. Do it, Gabrian, let go. It’s not that far. Her fingers give way before her mind does. The eight-foot drop hits hard as the ground rushes up to meet her and crumples her into a searing ball of mess below the window.
Son of a—that hurt.
An encouraging caw from above helps remind her why she is there and suffering. Gabrian blinks away the tears blurring the world and pushes the pain jolting through her body into fuel for her mission. Edging up onto her elbow, Gabrian lifts her skeletal form from the ground and rolls her weight over onto her legs. Pressing her hands on her knees, she pants through the masochistic discomfort until it slows.
Gabrian gathers in her breath, slow and steady. The clean scent of rain clinging to the damp air is sweet and refreshing but warns of what is to come, giving her the cue it is time to go.
If she manages to get away and do this, there is no more looking back. It is time to take control, human style. Lifting to her feet, she brushes off the cluster of twigs and bits of leaves scattered over her clothing. Hearing echoes of footsteps taping upon the stairwell from inside the wall of the cottage, she curses. Crap, it is now or never.
Gabrian scuttles forward across the lawn. Her body fights against the first few steps but she manages to shuffle her way to the main road and onto the sidewalk. Stopping to catch her breath, she meets the horrified gawks of two frightened pedestrians hurrying to get away from her. The strange reaction punches her in the chest, making her hands lift to touch her face. Gabrian forgot she must look like nothing short of a monster out of a horror film.
Gabrian’s heart sinks but only for a moment. A disgruntled barrage of caws aimed at the hurried walkers makes her look up and grin. “I know, right? Maybe they are not big horror movie fans,” she jests, glancing over her shoulder at them.
They snicker under hushed tones, staring back at her over their shoulders like she is some crack pot on the loose, and standing in broad daylight making conversation with the local ravens no less.
An approving cackle forces her to grin even more, but there is no need in giving everyone a heart attack or reason to be afraid of her, not to mention a dead giveaway of her location to her jailer. She tugs the edge of her toque down to set on the bridge of her nose, just hovering above her eyes, and pulls the top of her hoodie up over her head.
Time to do what she has run away to do.
With every hit her foot makes with the earth, it jars through her. Gabrian’s mind whispers pleas for her to stop the madness but lets her stubbornness kick in and take over her will, muting out the negative influence bouncing around in her head. She pushes herself to just take one more step, then the next, then the next, then it happens.
She remembers what comes next.
Her muscles begin to respond, pushing away the sluggishness of the decaying slumber, drowning her painful memories with it.
Chapter Eleven
Beach Bound
After a couple miles of Gabrian’s therapeutic rhythm, she feels the endorphins take over and she lets them, gratefully getting lost in their powerful healing. A loud honk blasts from a passing truck, bursting her bubble of serenity with a sharp jolt to her nerves. She jumps sideways, losing her footing on the side of the road, and tumbles down into the ditch.
Physically and emotionally a tangled mess, Gabrian struggles to reclaim her control. Upside down and resting in a damp mess of brush with the ditch looming above her, she lies still, listening to the sound of concern-filled shrieking caws from above that accompany the rapid thud of her pulse pounding in her ears.
She lays still for a moment, tired. Her body aches to remain unmoved. Taking in a large breath of air, she rolls to her side, feeling a sharp tug on her head that holds her in place. Gabrian’s hand searches for her captor and realizes she must find a way to unravel what remains of her hair from the sharp clutches of brush.
A cool wetness on her scabbed head from her bony hands covered with mud, makes her sigh, trying to be thankful it is not blood. She stares at the fragility of her hands, twisting them in front of her as the endorphins slow her euphoric state, and she resurfaces back to the real world, pulling free what remains of her hair from the bushes.
Detangled, she sits upright. A damp breeze kisses at her bare scalp, sending a shiver through her. Her muddied fingers graze over exposed tuffs of hair and she searches the brush to find a group of dogwood switches proudly displaying her wears. Concerned rattling caws draw her attention to the side of the ditch where a very distraught ebony stalker inquires of her wellbeing. Retrieving her borrowed toque and placing it back on her head, she sits quietly among the brush.
“I am okay, Theo. It’s gonna be okay,” Gabrian’s voice trails off into a whimper as she buries her head in her hands. Her body trembles as tears well up in her eyes. Her mind whirls through images of varied painful memories, devouring her newfound determination and shoving it back down into her darkened vortex of chaos. The heaviness of her mere mortality is all too clear.
How could she miss the Magik and all it entailed? How? She is back, a human girl with just her brain to take on the world. This is what she wanted. Why in the hell is she so sad?
Her heart spikes with adrenaline and her veins sting, making her want to tear her skin off. No longer able to stand the consumption of self-pity, she growls, frustrated, and forces herself to her feet. “Ugh, there is no Magik. Okay? It is gone, so get over yourself,” she scolds and pushes her legs to move forward, digging her way out of the ditch. “Stop. Being. A. Victim!” she yells out and darts forward as fast as her wobbly legs will allow down the side of the road, hoping to convince herself—hoping to outrun her fears—and praying to whatever higher power listens to her. She will find the hope Rhada told her to find.
Unsure of how long she has been running, obsessed and clinging to the hypnotic rhythmic of steps in her search, Gabrian sees a clearing in the trees up ahead and heads for it. Her steps slip, dragging from exhaustion. She is no longer running on fuel form her pent-up anger and feels eager to take a rest.
She staggers onto the soft cushion of worn dirt leading toward the beach. Golden grains of crushed sand crunch beneath her steps until she reaches the dark edges of the shore and drops down to her knees, denting the smooth surface under the weight of her fall.
Gabrian’s heart pounds in her ears, keeping time with the soft rolling hush of the waves as they rush in to meet her, silencing her heavy breath and sending a gentle breeze to sooth her soul. She settles down on folded legs and lets her eyes drift unfocused, surfing the wakes of whitecaps as they line up to welcome her arrival. Gathering a few more deep breaths, her lungs relax, and her heart returns to a normal pace, silent once more beneath her chest.
The corners of her lips curl as she rolls back, relieving her legs of weight, and rests her backside on the sand. The familiar song of the water wraps her within a trick of time. Memories of a life lived so long ago, of dancing barefoot in this very sand, carefree and giggling, watched over by her ever-loving parents lingers. A hollow empty ache echoes all around
her, longing for those stolen moments once more—a world where Gabrian’s life made sense and her parents were still with her.
Pulling her knees up in front, Gabrian lays her head on her arms. She tries to create a safe place at the back of her mind—a place where it doesn’t hurt so much—but today she does not have the strength to keep the memories at bay. She swings her arms out, pounding her fists into the sand, and yells out against the roar of the waves, releasing the last ounces of frustration. Tears smear the world once more, and she feels lost, alone, and very, very, human.
Once the levy of tears is empty, and having depleted every ounce of energy on feeling sorry for herself, the reality of Gabrian’s overspending of her body’s willingness to serve brings her back to the real world with a sharp sting. Blinking away the blurry remains of her self-loathing, she sees the repercussions of her jaunt and groans. “Great. Just great.”
Untying the laces of the crimson-painted runners, she winces, slipping off the shoe to assess the damage that lies within. Skin that used to be seasoned for the constant pound against the asphalt is now a mess of torn flesh. The red show of blisters forming on the sides of her feet announce their mistreatment loud and clear.
She slips off the other shoe and notes its level of defiance thinking, At least my wrist hasn’t bled through its binding, which releases an unhinged giggle to surface. Nicely done, Gabrian.
Sighing, she drifts once more over the water and pushes to her feet. Rolling the edges of her pants up to meet the sharp bony defines of her knees, Gabrian reveals thin skin covered with bluish veins. Wiggling her toes, covered in sand and blood, she steps into the water, waiting for the mighty Atlantic to cool and cleanse her aching feet.