by Ireland Gill
He chuckled and parked us at the end of the line. “How’d you know I was going to mention Rose?”
I studied the look in his eyes. “You just have that expression. It reminds me of Joel after he had his first date with Evan.” I laughed at the thought. “I just knew he was stuck on him after I saw that look.” I shook my head and giggled. “Blind date for those two.”
He grinned. “Ev, she’s awesome. I mean, we’ve only met up a couple of times, but we’ve been talking a lot. She works at a little bistro downtown, but writes song lyrics as a side gig.” He chuckled and went deeper into his dreamy-eyed expression. “I’ve heard her sing. She is amazing.”
“Really? I’m happy for you, Jax. Hopefully I get to meet her soon.”
We moved up in line. We were next. Jaxon plugged in the type of wash we were getting – “The Works” – and we watched the gate close down behind the car in front of us going through the wash.
“Maybe one time this week you could take a night off from soul-saving and we could do a double date or something?” Jaxon asked.
I started chewing on my bottom lip, thinking about a date night. Thinking about how I still hadn’t made things right with Hayden yet. The tension between the two of us had been a perpetuating issue. It was almost a game to see who would speak first about it. Sure, we were cordial with each other for the schedule of the soul-saving, but this had truly been getting ridiculous.
But what do you say to someone who just found a drawing of themselves that shows your apparent negative perception of them in regard to decision they’ve made? What do you say to someone who may be regretting that very decision and is just afraid to tell you? Yet another elephant in the room that sat and took up space, getting fatter by the day. It had to be addressed at some point...because it was suffocating.
We were next, so pulled up through the wash after the garage door opened. There was a big board with lights set up vertically on the driver’s side. The top light stayed read until shifting to green, letting the driver know to move forward. Finally, we moved through to the middle of the wash, and the door shut behind us. Water sprayed all over the Mustang with the laser wash arms. Whatever daylight was able to shine into the garage was dismissed by the blanket of soap covering the windows.
“I’ll have to ask him,” I finally said.
Jaxon chuckled and looked over at me. “You mean you have to actually talk to him.”
“We do talk.”
“Not lately.”
“He’s still upset with me.”
Jaxon sighed as he obeyed the green light and moved slightly forward. “It can’t be healthy, the way things are going between the two of you.”
I looked at my brother. I felt guilty for making everyone in the house sit in the tension that I’d created. Well, Hayden helped, but still. I had the power to end it.
“I know I have to fix it,” I admitted. “I will tonight...maybe.”
“You’ll feel better.” He smiled. “Hey, by the way. I was wondering. About these saves you do with Hayden. I’d like to understand it more, what you do and all.”
My eyes widened. “You want to watch me do a save?”
We moved forward while the water started to clear off the last round of soap.
“Yeah,” Jaxon answered shyly. “I mean, if it’s ok. Is it okay?”
I thought for a moment. I’d never had anyone watch me before, except when Luka came the morning of the first save I’d ever done. It was a woman who’d killed her two children and then herself. It was an awful turning point for me. A point during which I realized my life would never be the same. A point during which I knew that I would probably suffer through a lot more thereafter. And I was right. But Jaxon wanted to be a part of this new life with me. He already was.
“Of course you can,” I said. “How about tomorrow?”
“Yeah! That would be—-“
The mustang suddenly jolted forward. The impact came from behind.
“What the hell?!,” I yelled.
The sprinklers turned off and the machine spraying the water slowed to a stop.
“You okay?” my brother asked.
“That all depends.”
Jaxon and I got out to head back to the vehicle that hit us. The first thing I saw was a silver Tahoe, a big enough beast to ruin my Aurora. I looked down to see the smashed back end of my ‘stang. My heart sank while my blood pressure rose. And speaking of “rose”...
“Rose?!” Jaxon said, looking up at the driver.
Oh. Dear, Rose. What have you done?
Chapter Thirteen Stop and Kill the Roses
I wanted to kill her. She may have been sweet, blond, and all innocent-looking, but she hit my car!
“Oh. My. God! I am so very sorry. Jaxon, I’m so sorry!” She was frantic. “The garage door opened and the lights were green. I couldn’t see past the water spraying behind your car!”
“My car,” I corrected. “It’s my car.”
“Evika,” Jaxon let out a broken up sigh, “meet Rose. Rose, this is my sister, Evika.”
I was silent. My fists tightened as I just stared at the back end of Aurora.
“Shit. Evika, I’m so sorry. I really am.” Rose said.
“Well, at least we weren’t on a highway,” Jaxon said. “And the damage isn’t that bad, as long as we stay in the dark like this.” He laughed nervously.
Not that bad? My tail lights were a glass mosaic on the wet floor of that car wash.
Although Jaxon tried to lighten the mood and distract me from the fact that his new girlfriend just mangled my beautiful mustang – I have to give him credit for trying – I was having a hard time thinking I could ever like this new girl.
Rose looked over at me on the brink of tears. “I-I-I’m so sorry.” She was tearing up. “I can’t believe I did this. The door to the entrance went up and the light was green.”
I was still silent.
“Rose, it’s okay. It’s just a fender bender. No one got hurt. There must be a malfunction with the operations.” My brother stood there trying to comfort his new girlfriend while I assessed the damage a bit further.
I couldn’t get the best look at it in the dim lighting, so I wanted to get the hell out of the carwash and stop holding up the line.
The damage to my car wasn’t something that couldn’t be fixed, but the damage Rose caused with her first impression was definitely indelible. How in the world can someone bounce back from that? After reporting the accident and exchanging insurance crap, I honestly wasn’t in much of a mood to start over with first impressions.
* * * * *
The damage “...was an honest mistake, Ev,” Jaxon said. I made him sit in the passenger side on the way home so I could drive and get my mind off things.
“I’m really sorry,” he continued.
My brother insisted on coming home with me after comforting Rose before she went on her way. I let them have a few minutes to speak while I waited in my car after we reported everything and traded insurance info. I’m not sure his coming with me instead of her was the wisest decision.
“Jaxon, I know she didn’t hit me on purpose, but seriously, what kind of person moves straight into another car at the car wash?” I thought about what I was asking, and then held up my hand. “Nevermind. Don’t answer that.” A bad driver. That was my answer.
“This doesn’t kill our chances for a double date now, does it?”
I sighed, gripping the wheel, envisioning Rose’s petite throat locked between my hands instead. Okay. So I was being a bit ridiculous.
“Of course not,” I assured him.
Jaxon’s phone blew up all the way home; texts from Rose. I think he knew better not to read them aloud.
“Good,” he said. “Because she wants to make it up to you tomorrow night by bringing over some homemade apple pie.”
I gave him an incredulous look.
“What?” he chuckled. “I guess that’s her way of saying ‘I’m sorry’ – breaking pie with
some new people.”
“Ohhh. You mean after breaking their cars first?” I scoffed.
“Okay,” Jaxon put his hands up. “I get it. You already hate her.”
I knew I’d already gone a little too far with my joke. “No, Jax.” I sighed. “Of course I don’t hate her. I’m sorry. I just...” I paused for a second, “We just need to start over. I’m sure she is really sweet.” Just a bad driver.
The fact that my brother was getting hurt that I didn’t seem to like his new girlfriend was sort of stinging me a little. I felt like a total ass, and maybe I was being an ass. If she was already that important to him, then I’d have to make room for her, too. At least, I’d have to try. I also couldn’t help wondering if there were other things bothering me, additional stresses that were weighing on me. And I knew there were.
That cute face of Jaxon’s went from perturbed to holding a small grin. I’d never seen Jaxon angry before, and maybe that wasn’t him being angry – just standing up to me a little, fighting for what he thought was right. But I felt immediate relief once he offered me that forgiving smile.
“So, tomorrow then?”
“Sure,” I said. “After the rounds of soul saving for the day. Have her come by with some pie.”
“Awesome.” He bobbed his head. “I’ll let her know. She’ll feel relieved.”
* * * * *
The yard was empty and the knife targets were clean, so I had some time to myself.
Throwing those knives proved to be a great way to blow off steam. Harnessing my mean energy and focusing it on one, little target required a lot of concentration. (Rose’s innocent face may have been in the back of my mind.) It was exactly what I’d needed, throwing. And after about thirty minutes alone, I felt like I could possibly deal with the “Rose visit” the next day.
It was just about dusk when I heard the porch screen door creak behind me. I threw the last knife in my hand and hit the target straight in the heart. I had a feeling I knew who was coming out to see me.
“Beginners aren’t supposed to throw shit when they’re angry. It messes up their skills.” Blane stopped at the bottom step. I heard him sit, then rustle for the pack of smokes in his jacket pocket.
I went to fetch my knives before replying. “Apparently, I’m a different breed then.” I gestured to the tree. “I just hit that target.”
Blane scoffed. “Then you must be getting better at controlling your little tantrums.”
I felt my face redden and my muscles quiver. “Why do you try to make me feel so inferior all the time?”
“My nature.” He shrugged and lit the end of his cigarette, then held out his pack and offered me a nod. Our language, I guess. “Heard your car got fucked up today.”
I glared at him.
“Hey,” his hand went up in weak surrender. “I’d be out here throwing too, if it was me.”
I relaxed. His way of saying he was mildly sorry, I guessed.
“Want one or not?” He shook the box of Marlboros. I relented and walked over to grab the smoke which, to my surprise, was already sticking about halfway out, ready for me to take.
I sat next to him on the step and grabbed the matchbox. I lit a match and watched it burn for a few seconds before using it. The match lit and burst immediately into a bright flare of light, then calmed into a tiny, controllable flame until I let it start burning down the wood of the match. The flame burned down toward my fingers at such a fast pace, shriveling the matchstick into a black coiled skeleton of itself until I blew it out, a small cloudy stream of smoke rising in the air as evidence there’d once been bright flame that started it all.
I stared at the blackened matchstick. Much like my anger, the flame went into an uncontrolled burst and ate everything in its path all the way down until I blew it out. It made me think of Hayden’s ability to calm me. Sometimes, I admit, I could let my anger take things too far.
“You haven’t used your question today.”
Blane broke my trance with the match. I tossed it into the ashtray and looked at him. He took a drag of his smoke and scratched his greasy head of hair.
“What I’d like to know would require well more than just one question, Blane.” I could hear the defeat in my voice. I wanted to know his deal, but I didn’t even know where to start. “’I killed my son’ is quite a heavy thing to say to someone and then just let them ask one damn question per day without offering more insight.”
He got up, sucked in deeply on his smoke, making his cigarette disappear down to the butt in just a few seconds, then tossed it into the ashtray. He pulled out his throwing knives from inside the jacket before shrugging out of it, and exposed the grimy, white shirt he’d always wear. He then hiked up each of those sleeves, showing off his tattooed arm tracks, almost as if taunting me to ask him for more of his story.
I rolled my eyes.
“If you think I’m some sort of monster, then maybe you’re right.” He pulled in, slowly releasing a deep breath. Then he threw his first knife and hit the target square in the eye.
I sighed. I threw my first blade, aiming for the center of the skull. I pegged it on the mouth of the target. I imagined some teeth falling out.
“What do you want me to say, Blane? Do you want me to ask why you killed your kid? How you killed your kid? Ask why the hell you’re not stuck in the dark realm with Alysto? Why you’re here instead?” I belted out every question with more aggression than the previous. “And am I supposed to ask why the hell you have tracks on your arms? I know what those are. I’m not an idiot.”
The sun was nearly set, leaving us in the quiet twilight of the evening. The trees became silhouettes of themselves against what was left of the sun’s light. It was as if the sun moved faster just to leave us to the darkness. There was barely enough light to see the light targets and ourselves.
Blane threw his next blade, this time hitting the chest of the target in the center tree.
He was silent, throwing the rest of his blades into each designated target. I waited for him to offer me some sort of sign that he told me he’d answer at least one of those inquiries I’d belted out, but it seemed I’d only shut him up.
I packed up my knives and sat down on the porch step, watching him peg each target over and over exactly where he’d aimed. I contemplated leaving him alone, but I felt compelled to make sure he knew exactly what I was feeling.
“I’ve seen enough memories and sins from these dead people the last few months that nothing fazes me anymore, Blane. And I have no doubt that whatever you did never deserved your soul going to Alysto’s hands; it’s why you were in the middle realm. That’s enough information for me to know that you’re not a monster.”
I didn’t want to bother asking him the question of the day. There really wasn’t a point. This conversation between the two of us would end up forcing more than one question to blossom, and if he wanted to stick with the rules, I wasn’t in any mood that evening to get into arguments.
I sighed and picked up my case of blades, ready to leave the Phantom Hunter alone. But I paused before leaving. I wanted him to know something.
“Nothing phases me anymore, Blane. The other day, I had to save a woman who lured a pregnant nineteen-year old girl to her home.”
I paused and looked down at my knives, wanting to throw them all over again. So I did – straight at those bullseyes.
“She killed her and cut the full-term baby out of her. Literally cut that baby right out of this girl's fucking belly after strangling her to death.”
I threw harder and harder, feeling as if the muscle in my arm would tear apart completely. I reimagined the murderous woman's face again and hit the target perfectly in the center, just like the shiv that her cell mate used to kill her with. I guess Rose wasn't the one I was focusing on anymore. Maybe I was never really mad at her.
"Look, Blane, I have no doubt that you’re a good person. And I have no doubt that you didn’t mean to hurt your son. The Seekers I save all had cruel intenti
ons, putting them in the realm they are in. Making a mistake doesn’t make you a monster like the rest of them.”
I waited a moment to gauge his reaction, but never looked directly at him. Finally, I retrieved my knives from the target and headed to the porch door.
“They told me if I hunted this thing down, then they’d let me go.”
“Huh?” His words came out of left field. I expected he would have led right into some story about his kid or about how I was wrong.
“I’ve been stuck in that place for over seven years after I killed myself,” he said hardly audibly. He was referring to the Middle Realm, the purgatory for souls who belong somewhere else, but have become “stuck.”
He was still staring down. “Do you know what the official sound of madness is?”
There was an eerie silence between us that lay heavy, him waiting for my answer and me having no idea where he was taking the conversation.
“Wouldn’t it be different for everyone?” I finally said.
He threw two of his knives, one in each eye of the middle tree.
“You could be right.” He shrugged before walking to claim his blades. They seemed to be more difficult to pull from the bark than usual. “I have a theory that the sound of true madness is the complete and utter silence that is so fucking deafening it drives you insane – because it leaves you with nothing to do but dissect everything that you are.” His voiced rose a bit. “And if you already dislike who you are to begin with, well. . .God help you.”
I looked closer at Blane’s arms as he walked back from the trees after retrieving his knives. The marks all the way up both arms were almost overly-exaggerated markings, as if someone had drawn them on him in permanent ink. I could only imagine the stories behind those tracks of his. And the one thing I knew for sure – they had to do with the story he would soon tell me.
I set my knives down on the railing and took a seat on the steps again.
I was cautious in the delivery of my question, moving slowly as if I’d scare a skittish cat. “Is that how death was for you, when you first died? Your own theory of madness”
