The Halo of Amaris

by Jade Brieanne

  Jin flipped the lock and peeled back the worn leather lid. Inside was a ladies’ pocket watch. The front of the case was white and rose gold filigree with a jade center. The back was smooth and shiny. He thought back to how he should have gotten it engraved, maybe with their initials, something that would last forever.

  Releasing the clasp, she pried it open and stared at the clock’s face before bringing it to her ear. “It doesn’t work,” she mumbled, frowning.

  “I know. Time stopped when I met you,” Aiden said with a straight face. That earned him an elbow to his ribs.

  “It’s pretty.” Jin leaned forward to get a better look. She fingered the jade at the center before glancing up over her shoulder. “Does this have some sort of some sort of symbolic meaning or is this a just because gift?”

  “A just because gift. Of course, if you are in need of some sort of sentimentality, there is the obligatory I’ll always be there for you, I’m always at your side, I’ll never let you—”

  “You miss me this much,” she wondered out loud, interrupting him.

  Aiden diverted his gaze. “Yes,” he said without hesitation. He reached out and splayed his fingers across her back. She felt so real, so real that Aiden swore he could smell her and feel the pressure of her breathing, the heartbeat that played under his fingertips. Jin didn’t wear perfume often, found the whole ordeal of fragrance and pulse points to be tiresome. Aiden appreciated that, because he thought she smelled like fresh, wet dirt and clouds, and spring water in May. She smelled like first-fallen snow and the wind.

  “Ever heard of string theory?” Jin asked, suddenly.

  Aiden frowned. “No.”

  “String theory says that there are an innumerable amount of other universes— countless—and an infinite number of other dimensions. They loop into each other, stack on top of one another, exist only in the blink of an eye and are here for eternity—all at the same time.”

  “You’ve said this before…” Aiden recounted, a twinge of incredulity in his voice, maybe awe, maybe melancholy.

  “Have I?” she said, smiling. “Imagine that there are ten of me, loving ten of you, amassing this energy of pure emotion that spans across dimensions and galaxies. Imagine that there was enough love generated from the different ways to love one another…that when I say I can love you a million different ways in a million different instances, that I actually mean it. That I can touch you and its meaning is tenfold. That if I needed more than one lifetime with you…I could have it. Imagine that.”

  “Quirky,” he said.

  “Quirky.” Jin looked out over the ocean. “I think I hate this place. I keep saying that I don’t want to come back, and we keep coming back.”

  “We keep coming back?”

  Jin nodded.

  Their environment changed. The ocean morphed into a cityscape. The sand turned to asphalt. The beach bench turned into the edge of a fountain. Water sprayed against their back. The coins under the fountain water sparkled. The buildings toppled over and fell on top of one another, only to be replaced by new building moments later. Over and over again.

  Jin glanced up at the buildings. “Destruction can’t be repaired by pure will alone. It requires work.”

  Aiden watched a flower by his foot wilt, then bloom into a colorful array of petals moments later. Up on a light post, a phoenix was nipping under its feathers. The sky began to darken, day turning into night.

  “You have to leave this place.”

  Frowning, Aiden turned his gaze back to the brown column of Jin’s neck. “You can’t make me,” he muttered.

  The phoenix sitting above them burst into silent flames and lit up the dark sky. The heat from the flames warmed Aiden’s back. A feather escaped the flames and drifted toward them, carried by the wind. It landed in Jin’s lap.

  “A phoenix feather?” He smiled sadly. “Don’t these mean rebirth?” He plucked the feather from her lap and placed it in her hand.

  “Could be. They would know.”

  “They?”

  “You can’t feel them? We aren’t alone. Someone is watching.”

  “Who’s watch…?” he began, but the dream was already decomposing. The buildings in the distance began to smoke before exploding one by one. The water in the fountain dried up. The coins turned to dust. The image of Jin in his arms shimmered, and then faded. Echoing in the air was the call of a bird.

  “No…” He squeezed tighter, trying to keep the remaining whisper-soft remnants of Jin with him. “No…No!”

  “We’re running out of time,” was the last thing he heard before it all went to black.

  His eyes flew open.

  The ceiling seemed familiar. The light filtering through the blinds was bright, and normally he would welcome that sort of thing, but today all he wanted to do was fall back asleep and find Jin. He shifted to get comfortable again, but a stiff pain in his side prevented that.

  His pain prescription was on the kitchenette counter. They were strong and effective and two of those would take him back to Jin. A handful and it’d be permanent. He scowled at his dark thoughts.

  You have a life to live.

  Jon’s words echoed in his head. Aiden knew that Jon was right, and knew he needed to get his sorry ass out of bed and apologize. Maybe he should go out and get them some beers. It was impossible to turn down an apology over beers.

  Grunting, he tried sitting up, but his arm felt heavy with sleep. He jerked hard, trying to wake it up when he heard an agitated growl.

  “Aiden, stop.”

  His heart jumped but he willed it to calm down. “Now I’m hearing your voice while I’m awake,” he mumbled, completely disgusted with himself.

  “Oh, wow. Sorry,” came a snarky reply. “But if it didn’t feel like you were break-dancing in bed you wouldn’t hear my voice at all.”

  Aiden’s brows pinched together. It couldn’t be his imagination because his capacity for creation was limited and dry—but he knew he heard her voice. Maybe his depression had morphed into full blown psychosis. He was losing it.

  Curiosity and hope made him peer down at his arm. A tuft of coiled hair was sticking out the top of the duvet.

  “Great. Now I’m awake,” the voice groaned. “You’re like the sleep number for insomnia. This is the last time I let you talk me into sleeping on this sofa bed, too. Jesus Christ, my back.”

  Sofa bed? He hadn’t fallen asleep on a sofa bed. He was in his hotel room.

  The covers shifted, and Aiden was torn between being absolutely terrified and overwhelming hope. He snatched the duvet back and his jaw went slack.

  Jin lay there scowling at him, rubbing the last bit of her lost sleep out of her eyes. Bit by bit, the scowl turned into a smile. “Morning, baby.”

  A bird’s cry was heard.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Manhattan, New York

  October 4

  “Morning, baby.”

  Hope.

  The feeling of hope in his chest grew. It hurt—like reality was pressing up against his ribcage creating pinpoints of pain every time he inhaled. Aiden looked down to kinky hair against his shoulder and tried to find the ground that had disappeared from under him. Jin looked back at him, her bright smile stretching across her full lips and the soft earthy fragrance of her reality filling his nose.

  The feeling in his chest grew some more. The molecules in his body pulled themselves apart and collided, and he wondered how he was still in one piece.

  Jin, apparently tired of his weird, unblinking stare, pushed the covers back, sat up, and swung her legs over the side of the bed. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost,” she said over her shoulder as she slipped her feet into her slippers before she stood and stretched.

  “A what?” Aiden replied—distracted, confused, lost.

  “A ghost,” she said, turning. “Your face looks like a destination to pure terror. Like you’ve seen the boogey monster under the bed. What’s wrong?”

  When he didn’t say an
ything—because how could he?—she frowned and slipped into her robe.

  “Now’s not the time to pretend you don’t speak English.”

  Please don’t let this be a dream. Please.

  In an instant, Aiden was off the bed, reaching for her, his hands sliding around Jin’s hips to pull her into him. He touched her like he was trying to commit her to memory. Touched her like she would disappear if he didn’t.

  It wasn’t a vision. She wasn’t a figment of his imagination. This wasn’t a dream.

  “You’re real,” he breathed, his voice brittle. “I thought I lost you.”

  Jin’s reaction confused him. Instead of falling back into his arms with the same excitement shining in her eyes, she broke the embrace and stepped away from him. “I’m calling Dr. Gustav.”

  “Your psychiatrist?” Aiden frowned. “For what?”

  Jin reached for her phone on the table. “Because this has to stop.”

  Aiden pulled back, bewildered. “What does?”

  “The nightmares! You’ve had a nightmare almost every night this week! Do you know how crazy I feel when I wake up to you breathing all hard and cursing and when I ask you if you’re okay, the only thing you do is hug me like you’ve seen me die or something?”

  Aiden blinked slowly before incredulity hit him. “That’s because I did! You were right in front of me and you died!”

  Jin deflated. “I’m here,” she stressed. “I couldn’t have died if I’m here, right?” Jin pleaded, her eyes searching his. “It was just a dream.”

  Aiden didn’t want to hear that. He reached for her again. “It wasn’t a dream.”

  I sound crazy, he thought, as she stared at him with a level of concern that bordered on pity, but I don’t care.

  The look shifted, the pity dissolved, softened into something else that Aiden couldn’t place. Her hands moved from her sides and came to rest on his chest before she pushed him back onto the bed. Jin crawled up his body until she was straddling his waist. She stared down at him and he returned her gaze.

  Slowly, Jin lowered her head, bringing her lush lips against his full ones, and Aiden didn’t hesitate. As soon as he felt Jin’s lips on his, he slanted his head to deepen their kiss.

  I’m here, her kiss said. I’m not going anywhere.

  This is real.

  Jin laughed into his kiss as she trailed her fingers down his sides and up under his shirt.

  Aiden had braced himself to flip her onto her back when the chimes of their doorbell rang in the background. He ignored it, pressing up into Jin, growling his complaint into her mouth. The ringing turned to knocking, so hard and loud that Jin paused. She frowned before laying her forehead against his chest.

  “You break that door, you’re paying for it,” Jin yelled over her shoulder. She huffed, and a few tendrils of hair fluttered across her forehead. Aiden thought that movement was the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen. “Turn me loose, Doc Ock. Let me go see what the fun police want.”

  Aiden groaned and sat up, sulking, but remained silent as Jin untangled herself from his hands and their sheets. She took a step forward, and then paused, turning to face him. The playful look from moments ago was gone, replaced by concern. “I’m not done with you yet,” she said.

  Aiden nodded and managed a small smile, more for her benefit than anything else. As he watched her walk away an image flashed in front of his eyes. Blood. Her limp body in his arms. The last sound she made before she…

  Aiden shook his head hard, once, and irrational panic overtook him. “Hey, Jin,” he yelled, levering to his feet.

  Jin jumped at the volume, and turned around to stare at him like he’d lost his mind.

  “You’ve got…um…some drool on your face.”

  Her mouth scrunched up in disgust, her hand going to her lips. “Ew. Where?”

  If he wasn’t half crazed with paranoia, he would have laughed at her for falling for it. But currently he was consumed with his own illusions and the smile never reached his lips. “Wait, I’ll get it,” he said as he approached her, his fingers reaching for her face. When he was close enough, he grabbed her shoulders and pushed her back toward the bed.

  “What are you doing?” she said as he forced her to sit.

  “When I said I’ll get it, I meant the door. Stay back,” he grumbled, letting go of her to pull on his jeans.

  “Stay back?” she said, incredulous. “From the door? Are you crazy?”

  He ignored her and walked through the living room to the door. Stooping down to the peephole, he peered through it, squinting. It was a delivery woman. Cautiously, he opened the door to the length of the safety chain, letting the stale white light from the hall bleed into the foyer.

  Why was this familiar?

  “What?” Aiden growled as he eyeballed the lanky woman over the links of the chain.

  The delivery woman looked younger than them, like she was still spending her summers escaping college-level math and dreaming of weekends on the beach. She had a long braid, her hair coiled under a dark blue hat that stood out against the bright blue paint in the hallway. She had one of those faces that you could trust— eager, toothy grin, apple cheeks, and expressive gray eyes. She held up a brown delivery box with DC in script letters across it like it was a brand new puppy. “Delivery!”

  A man dressed in all brown. The links of chain stretching across the door, across Aiden’s line of sight.

  “Can I help you?”

  “Delivery.”

  “Well, just…just leave it there,” Aiden snarled as he continued to glare. Jin cuffed her hand around his wrist, tugging him away from the door, but he planted his feet and refused to budge.

  The delivery woman arched a thin brow. “No,” she said slowly, and set the box down. She unclipped the electronic signature pad from her khaki slacks. “You’ll have to sign for this. I can’t, you know, just leave a package here.”

  “And why not?”

  “Because.”

  “Because?” Aiden brayed, incredulous.

  The delivery woman looked up at him like he’d lost his mind. Resigned, he stuck his hand out through the barely open door, grabbing for the signature pad in her hand.

  Snorting, the delivery woman took a step back from the door, taking the pad with her.

  Aiden gritted his teeth. “Are you…are you laughing at me?”

  The delivery woman struggled to erase the smile off her face. “No, sir, I would never. But if you could just open the door. All I need is a signature.”

  “Why do you want me to open the door?” Aiden demanded.

  “Do you get out often?” the delivery woman quipped.

  “Why would you care if I leave this apartment?”

  “Oh, for the love of—Aiden! Move!”

  Before he could get another word out, Aiden was jerked back from the door and Jin slammed the door shut. Aiden scowled because he didn’t appreciate the way she glared as she slid the chain through the guard. “Do you mind turning the volume down on your crazy before she reports us?”

  “Or maybe I should report her!”

  “Down to a zero, Aiden. To a zero,” she whispered furiously, smacking his arm before reopening the door. She leaned out in the hallway and a bright smile replaced her scowl. Aiden wanted to roll his eyes until they fell out of the sockets. “Please excuse him, it’s been a day. Where do I need to sign?”

  Holding out the signature pad again, the delivery woman grinned as Jin scribbled her signature. “Thanks ma’am and”—pointing to a square—“your fingerprint here.” Jin nodded as she pressed her thumb to the pad. “And since I technically delivered it to both of you, can he who shall not be named back there sign here too? Just as confirmation?”

  Aiden crept up behind Jin, staying in the shadows and peering out at the delivery woman as she hesitantly offered up the pad, like he was deranged. When she shrank away Aiden felt a little satisfaction. Still, he gave into her ridiculous demands and snatched the pad, muttering under his
breath about safety and strangers before pressing his finger into the box.

  As she clipped the pad back to her slacks, Aiden shouldered his way past her and into the hallway. He looked left, and then right, scowling. Their elderly neighbor stood in her own doorway, setting a bowl out for a stray cat in the building. There was no one else—the hallway was empty. The neighbor smiled at Aiden, and he managed a sheepish wave before stepping back, out of the hallway.

  “Unbelievable,” he muttered. Jin fixed him with a look, and he apologized by pressing a kiss onto her shoulder. The delivery woman picked up the box and snickered again as he snatched the package from her, and it took everything in Aiden to ignore her shit-eating grin and walk away. “That was a dream,” he said to himself out loud. “This is real.”

  Aiden put the package down on the counter in the kitchen and looked around. He turned toward the bedroom door and stared at it—the molding, the white paint, the silver handle. His legs moved on their own toward the door, and then he hesitated at the threshold. The door alarm. Making a decision, he sucked in a deep breath and let it seep out between his lips before he pushed the door open. One solitary beep. Blood rushed in his ears, and he had to close his eyes to fight the anxiety.

  This is real. This isn’t a dream.

  The frame of their bed was the first thing he saw. It was a frame they’d picked out at a thrift store; beat up, but it had character. The champagne duvet and pillows were neat and in place. The rug was unmoved. He looked ridiculous, overanalyzing bed sheets, but Aiden didn’t think it was such a great length to go to make sure he wasn’t fucking insane.

  To push that point, he knelt beside the bed and looked underneath. His suitcase was jammed between the leg of the bed and the wall. He moved it out of the way and slid the gun case out from under the bed, setting it in between the bed frame and the night stand and unlocking it.

  Aiden stood and continued his long, silent survey, images flashing in and out of his mind as the back of his head pounded. The walls were unstained. Jin’s lamp was in one piece. Not shattered and in pieces in the corner. His wrist ached. There was no chair, no ropes.