The Crescent Stone

by E G McNally

  “Okay,” Jake sighed not sure if he was ready for what was to come or not, but regardless of his courage, he was willing to try, and better sooner than later. That’s what Taylor always used to tell him, better to get it over with sooner rather then build up the anxiety for later. She always was one to leap before looking, he thought to himself, especially the first time she jumped off the Devil’s Punch Bowl.

  He briefly remembered cringing as she nearly grated her body along the Cliffside because she barely jumped out far enough to avoid hitting the sides of the cliff - of course it was his fault for not warning her. No one in their right mind would need to be reminded to jump away from the cliff rather than straight down, if they’d only looked down before they jumped off the ledge, but of course Taylor, completely careless of the risks, just sprang forward, without hesitation and it was with fortunes grace that she survived with little but a nick on her hand where it brushed some rock on her way down.

  Lt Gordon took two long lunges ahead and peeled open the door at the Estate, allowing for Jake to stumble inside, stiff and shuttering from the cold. Once again the nice warm air of the roaring fires in the great room billowed around his body, helping to ease the tension built up from his tightly clenched arms across his chest, allowing him to relax. Jake ruffled his body and stamped the ground shaking lose any remaining clumps of snow that had gripped to him, while walking there, and then hurried over to the fireplace at the far end of the room rubbing his hands over the warm glow.

  He hadn’t even noticed that Lt Gordon had disappeared, but once he was beginning to feel the tingling sensation of his warmed blood, flowing through his body again, he noticed that Lt Gordon returned with a doctor. The man was dressed in a white lab coat, like a scientist, but carried a stethoscope around his neck, and a large black bag in one hand, which he tossed onto a coffee table and sat down.

  “This is one of our onsite surgeons. If you will sit here on the couch he can quickly stitch the stone into you.” Lt Gordon announced.

  Jake’s throat got dry as he tried to swallow, a little panicky from the word stitch. But obediently he left the warm glow of the fire, and sat down beside the doctor on the couch, hoping the cooperation would get this done faster.

  “I’ll need you to remove your shirt.” The doctor stated, pulling out a bottle of iodine and a cotton swab, dowsing it.

  Jake pulled his shirt over his curly hair revealing a chiseled set of abbs. A cold icy feeling startled Jake, as the doctor wiped a patched of his chest right above the sternum with the iodine and then flicked at a syringe. Jake cringed as the doctor plunged the syringe into his chest, injecting the clear fluid into his skin.

  “Just a local anesthetic to ease the pain,” the doctor informed.

  Jake was nervous now, afraid of what was about to come. He was prepared to risk his life to save Taylor, experience the most horrifying changes that would make him look like a gargoyle, but to have a doctor slice his skin open, and stitch something inside of him, right now, that was the most horrifying thing possible.

  Then before Jake could oppose another move, the doctor pulled out a long thin scalpel and pierced his skin, just below his collar bone and pulled the knife nearly two inches, exposing the rib bones beneath.

  Jake, prepared for the most horrifying pain. He nearly went white as he watched the doctor peel open his now bleeding chest, only to discover little discomfort, mostly a tugging feeling.

  “That doesn’t hurt does it?” The doctor asked?

  “Uh, no, n-not really,” Jake stuttered, relieved by the ease of the cut.

  Jake watched, as the doctor pulled out a small stone, rough and thin, but magnificent in brilliance, and diamond-like in appearance, holding it up to his chest.

  “Put your finger on this, and don’t move it, until I ask you,” the doctor said, placing Jake’s finger on the stone holding it in place, just inside the cut on his chest. The doctor pulled out a needle and some wire that looked much like fishing line, and began threading the edges of his skin back together.

  “Okay, you can let go now,” the doctor told Jake, pulling together another stitch. Once he was finished, he taped a large piece of gauze over the stitched up cut and then cleaned his tools and put them back in his bag.

  “Because we’ve never really done this before, I can’t tell you how long it will be before that heals, but I’d wager it won’t be long. If anything goes wrong, just have me paged.” The doctor announced to both Jake and Lt Gordon and then made his way back out of the room and disappeared somewhere in the Estate, most of which Jake had not toured.

  “Never done this before, what is he talking about? You guys made it out like you’ve done this plenty. I’m a first?” Jake freaked out, storming around the room in a ball of anger. “What if something goes wrong? What if this thing kills me, what then? How do you propose I help Taylor then? Hmm,” Jake angrily cast words at Lt Gordon, pacing back and forth along the fire.

  Then suddenly he jerked upright, as his chest heaved forward, causing one large convulsion to surge through his body. He reached an arm forward, catching the mantle of the fireplace, steadying his body from the seizure, and grabbed at his chest with the other. Jake, suddenly very conscious of the gauze covering the stitched area on his chest, throbbing with pain, tore away the gauze. He was staring at the cut as the pain began to pulsate through his veins, flowing out into the very tips of his fingers and toes. As he watched, still clenching the mantle, the stitches disintegrated and the skin sealed closed leaving a large, dimly shadowed scar, and where the small bulge from the stone had appeared moments before, was now a flat slightly sunken in patch of skin along the line of the scar. The pain surged through his body even greater than moments before, like someone was turning up the voltage on an electrifying chair and then the feeling erupted away from his body, and surged through the room causing the lights to flicker, and then singularly vanished. He could feel the immense surge of power dwindle away, until he was left with a nauseated feeling in the pit of his stomach that caused him to lean over and vomit.

  Chapter XVII: Mysterious Night

  “Oh my god,” Taylor shouted, so absolutely distracted that she failed to dodge Ranulf’s oncoming punch, which smashed her right between the eyes, sending her backwards from a fall that was already coming.

  “Did you feel that?” Taylor placed her hand on her forehead, but not her nose, gasping for breath trying to find a way to explain what she just felt.

  “Yeah, and I’m sure you did too,” Ranulf commented, rolling his wrist around, shaking off the blow. Taylor, too distracted, failed to acknowledge that Ranulf hadn’t successfully landed a punch on her yet today, which, as a result, left him far more frustrated than her. He was unsuccessfully drawing out her strong emotions which the professor had said were needed in order to cause the change.

  “No, you bullheaded sledgehammer,” Taylor jeered, glaring at Ranulf, while finally patting down her sore nose, “the explosion?”

  “I’m sure that’s what it felt like when I hit your nose,” Ranulf sneered, very pleased with the description she used.

  “No,” she shook her head frustrated with Ranulf’s stupidity. “You’re telling me you didn’t feel that burst of power, like someone just blew up a room full of C-4?” Taylor threw out a hand, silently requesting Ranulf to help her stand up. She looked over to the professor. “Professor, you didn’t feel that?”

  “No Taylor, we didn’t feel anything, but maybe you’re getting upset. Maybe you’re feeling those emotions that will trigger the change. If that’s the case try and harness those feelings. Physical stress hasn’t appeared to do anything for you. You’ve already ran five miles, struggled through the obstacle course, jumped several stories into a pool, and swam two miles, not to mention the beating that Ranulf has been trying to give you. It’s obvious that we have to find a trigger some other way.” The professor explained, exhausted from the long day. “Maybe we should call it a night, and try again tomorrow.”

&nbs
p; “Come on, I just got one hit on her and you want to stop for the night?” Ranulf whined.

  “Sure, I gotta go repair this nose anyway.” Taylor glared at Ranulf, tilting her head back, keeping the little red speckles forming, from dripping down her face. She didn’t know what she felt, but it most certainly wasn’t the change, that the professor wanted her to feel.

  Ranulf followed Taylor from the gym, whining in the background about stopping for the night. Taylor didn’t respond to his annoying jeers, deeply held in thought, but instead, wondered what could trigger such a strong power surge that no one else felt. It reminded her of the first day she found the stone. She felt a strong, pulsating feeling, surge through her body and then burst away, apparently causing a power surge, which the professor had told her was probably an effect of the stone becoming one with the body. But that would mean that someone else had just become one with the stone, and Taylor didn’t know how that would be possible with Major Bradshaw safely controlling one portion and the Professor controlling the other.

  “Can I just get a sandwich,” Taylor asked Madeline, the cook. “I’m tired and want to go to bed.”

  “Sure, I’ve already made up several on the counter over there,” Madeline pointed to the bar side of the island. “When the professor has everyone doing trainings for the night, usually no one is that hungry, so I just make sandwiches in advance. Seems to keep everyone happy,” she explained in her polite calm voice, keeping a half smile across her face.

  “Thank you,” Taylor exclaimed, grabbing one of the sandwiches. She guzzled down a glass of water and then retreated to her room with the sandwich, nibbling away at it on the way.

  “Hmm, ham with melted cheese on rye. Pretty good,” Taylor whispered to herself, grinning at the simplicity of the delicious sandwich.

  “Night Jill,” Taylor peeped her head inside Jill’s bedroom giving her a brief goodnight. “Oops, sorry, night,” she whispered silently realizing that she had startled Jill in her sleep. Jill turned her head over on her pillow glancing at the door with a groan, and then shoved her head back into her pillow tossing another one over her head. Taylor slowly ducked out of the door, closing it carefully, so as not to make any more noise, and then retreated into her bedroom across the hall.

  She pulled off her pants and tossed them into a little pile in a corner near the door, apparently someone comes through the rooms daily, to clean them up and do laundry. It was kind of cool, Taylor thought, the way she didn’t have to bother with the meddlesome tasks of everyday life. She finished off her sandwich, while peering outside her window into the garden below.

  With the dark swallowing the night she wondered about how late it must have been, and glanced over her shoulder at the clock hanging on the wall, an analog, that read ten thirty. So it wasn’t that late, it must just feel like it because of the long day. She knew the next day was going to be even longer, waking up early in the morning, and decided to tuck in for the night. She crawled into bed, and laid her head down on her pillow, closing her eyes, to think about the strange pulse she felt earlier, before swiftly falling into a dreamy sleep.

  “Mom, Dad, please stop arguing, you’re embarrassing me.” Strangely she began dreaming about the first time she met her old and best friend Jake. She watched as this older, much taller boy, with the body of a soccer player, lean but cut, desperately tried to hush his parents. He was pulling a picture out of his dad’s hand and placing it back onto one of the artist’s podiums, displaying their talented work along the sidewalk of downtown Port Angeles.

  Taylor’s new foster parents were playing in a hippie band, with casual but not too hip music, a block or two down the street and didn’t want to leave her at the house, so she was chilling outside the shops watching the tourists run around like chickens with their heads cut off, buying and critiquing all the various art displays.

  The boy was looking at her, almost glaring. She couldn’t help but laugh at him. He looked so embarrassed, like a turnip, face beat red, a frightful look for such a lightly tanned complexion.

  Uh oh, she didn’t know what to do, he was coming towards her. He’d brushed both his parents off and was cutting across the street locking eyes with her.

  “What’s so funny?” He hollered, not quite an arm's length away from her. He finished closing the gap between them, and then coolly slid his hand through his tightly wound, golden brown curls.

  “You, and your parents,” she replied, still with a little laughter in her voice, relieved that he wasn’t going to comment on the way she looked or anything like that.

  “They’re fighting in public again, that’s not funny it’s embarrassing,” he exclaimed, still red in the face, but now trying to appear more cool and confident.

  “Yeah, but at least you get to be embarrassed by your parents.” She tried painfully to hide any emotion in her face while spitting out the words.

  “What, your parents don’t embarrass you?” He pulled a questioning look on his face probably doubting that someone couldn’t be embarrassed by their parents.

  “No, I don’t have any.” She quickly replied, hoping that she hadn’t revealed too much information to a perfect stranger, but also keeping back the tears, from the thought.

  “Oh, I’m sorry.” The boy’s face changed quickly, surprised maybe, or ashamed. He fell silent, probably embarrassed by the question like many people would be. They never seem to expect that kind of an answer.

  “Nah, it’s not a big deal, I just like watching other people hate the parts of life, which they don’t even realize other people wish they had.” She explained to him, trying to express her feelings without being to mushy, which would probably frighten away a boy, and to quickly fill in the silence that obviously made the boy nervous.

  “I’m Taylor, and you are?” She quickly changed the subject, hoping that this would keep the handsome boy talking to her. She didn’t have many friends and wouldn’t mind one.

  “Jake, so what are you doing out here?” He replied.

  “Same thing you are, enjoying the Arts Festival, right? I mean who doesn’t come down here and look around.” She said presumptuously. “That and my foster parents are playing in that band by the water; they don’t trust me at the house alone, so here I am.” She grimaced, hoping the word foster didn’t scare him off. If she hadn’t lost him at parent’s are dead, she most certainly would at claiming to be a foster kid, that’s where she lost most people.

  “Oh, yeah, my parents always insist that I go with them to look at some paintings and what not, make it a family thing. I’m not even sure they know what that means. They fight too much if you ask me. As much as I hate to say it, I’ve been thinking they might be better off apart, you know, divorced.” He looked down. “Anyhow, wanna ditch the folks and come hang out with me, we could catch a movie or something?” He pointed up the way at the theater. She thought about it for a minute, relieved that he hadn’t flaked out yet, and then agreed.

  “Sure, I’d love a break.” She shook her hair out of her face while getting up, and caught a glimpse of Jake’s handsome blue eyes starring right into hers. A strange fluttery feeling formed in her stomach. “Oh and don’t be so hard on your parents, believe it or not you really would miss them if they were gone.” She commented, to distract herself from the butterflies in her stomach.

  And together they both walked up the block to the theater, until everything went black and all that remained was her and Jake. She watched as the dream turned dark and the feelings of happiness and ease quickly washed away into fear and sorrow.

  Right before her eyes, Jake transformed, transformed into a gargoyle, much like the one she had seen herself turn into. Only he was pure white, white from the daunting tail, and elegant wingspan, to the ridges that formed a crown over his head and the once sky blue eyes. Everything on him was white, all except for a dark purplish bruise on his chest, above his sternum.

  He turned his gargoyle looking head towards hers and gazed directly into her dark black eyes, and
said, “I will save you.” The words struck her like a knife, piercing deep in her chest, pounding out the very feelings of loss she had locked away inside, from her mother’s death. And then he was pulled away by some unseen force, dragged into the pit of the darkness.

  She screamed out, waving her arms wildly to grab him. “Don’t leave, Jake, Jake,” she broke down in sobs, in the dream, no, in real life. She’d awoken, hands clutching her face, tears streaming from her eyes. “Jake, I’m so alone,” she whispered out into the darkness of the night, slowly clearing away the tears that drenched her face.

  She didn’t realize how much she missed her best friend. They had even parted pretty badly, barely speaking as neither of them was any good at farewells. She wondered if she was ever going to see him again. If things had been different, if she had stayed in Port Angeles, who knows, maybe they would have been dating by now. She always knew he had a crush on her and she wouldn’t deny that he was handsome, and attractive. She just wasn’t ready to date yet, and back in the day she would never have admitted to having feelings for him, yet alone anyone. But oh how she missed the comforts of her best friend. Even though he wasn’t very good at saying the right thing, his very presence calmed her and often tamed the hidden sorrows that woke her early in the mornings.

  She remembered when Jake used to come over early each morning, before school started to watch cartoons with her – it was the only time to catch them, but that was just an excuse to have him around, comforting her.

  Exhausted from the day and worn from the strange nightmare Taylor passed out tightly clutching her pillow, and drifted back into a deep sleep, with small sniffling sobs breaking the slow steady rhythm of her snores.

  Two weeks had passed with the same routine, eating breakfast at six thirty in the main dining hall with everyone else, and then joining the professor, the Wolfe brothers, Esa, and Jill in the gym for training. Training took up most of the day with only a few breaks for snacks and lunch. Half the morning consisted of Ranulf and Arnulf taking turns pounding Taylor into the ground, and then before the break for lunch, the professor forced Taylor to run ten miles or she wouldn’t get to eat. This often took her close to two hours and she was spent by the end of the run.