by Lucy Swing
There was no denying the overwhelming disappointment I felt upon waking. I was alive. The rustling of papers close by made me conscious that I was not alone. I tried to move, to get up, but it was impossible. My body ached all over. My eyes felt heavy. I opened them, and everything was a blurred mix of colors. My heart started beating faster. Why couldn’t I move? Where was I? The rustling stopped, and I heard footsteps closing in on me. A dark shadow came to stand beside me.
“Ah, you are awake. How are you feeling?”
I opened my mouth to say something, but it was dry, and a stabbing pain in the back of my throat made me wince. A faint breeze followed him as he moved away.
“Here, drink this.” He slid his warm hand under the back of my neck and cautiously lifted me up. My body trembled at his touch. The cold rim of a glass found my lips, but I moved my head away. The “never take candy from strangers” rule surely applied here. “It’s okay. I won’t hurt you, Jade. I promise.”
How did he know my name? I blinked a few times, trying to rid my eyes of the cloudy haze. The rim of the glass was again at my lips. This time I allowed the liquid in. It was bitter and warm, like nothing I had ever tasted before. Soon the burning subsided, and my sight cleared.
His face hovered over mine, only inches away, and I gasped. It couldn’t be. There was no way.
For a second, I thought he was going to kiss me, and I was surprised to find that part of me hoped he would. He smiled as he retreated into a far corner of the room.
I stared at him, wondering whether it was all a dream. Perhaps my wish had come true and I was dead. He could not be here, not in the real world.
“Who are you?” my voice sounded hoarse. I looked away, embarrassed, and quietly cleared my throat. Lit candles filled the room with the scent of vanilla. “Where am I?” I kept taking my surroundings in. I was lying in a full-size bed with silky red sheets over me. I blushed at the thought of my being in his bed.
By the bed were two nightstands without lamps—only candles lit the large room. Under some of the candles lay some old books in terrible condition, with pages spilling out of them. They looked hundreds of years old. I couldn’t understand why anyone would keep them so poorly. To my right was a large window covered with almost translucent white curtains and, over these, two thick red drapes that almost matched the sheets. They were shut, and no light entered from behind them. It was night, I supposed. An old-fashioned desk stood in front of the bed, with a large hutch on top where papers were taped and pinned. More candles flickered on the desk.
I looked back at him as he fumbled with something inside the closet.
“Hello?” I said in a loud voice, waving my hands in the air. Was he deaf?
He turned around and walked toward the bed. He was tall—I guessed him to be at least six feet three. His dark hair fell almost to his eyes. He seemed even more beautiful in this world than he had in my dream. Then he had been a mere imagining, but here, in front of me, he seemed more glorious than anything I could envision. He had a glow about him that made me feel at peace.
“Here’s a change of clothes,” he said. “You can use the bathroom out in the hall to change.” He pointed out toward the open door and into a dark corridor. “Second door on the left. I’ve left you towels if you want to freshen up.” His eyes searched my face.
“Mind telling me where I am, first?” I said. “I don’t know you. I don’t know where I am or how I got here.”
I sat up on the bed and looked down at myself with a sudden sense of panic. I was no longer in my black mourning dress; instead, I wore an oversize T-shirt that must be his, and sweatpants.
He caught my bewilderment and cleared his throat. “Why don’t you freshen up first, and then I will answer all your questions.” He looked down at his feet and stepped back so I could walk to the door.
My usual self would have protested, demanding answers to my questions at once. But just as he had done in my dreams, he had a way of soothing me. I looked at the open door and back at him. A shower would be nice. After all, I had no idea how long I had been here.
Grabbing the pile of clothes he had laid next to me on the bed, I got up. The room began to spin, and I felt myself reeling, going down. I tried to hold on to the bed but missed it. His arms found my waist, steadying me. The electricity that flowed between us weakened me. I was exhausted and not sure I would make it to the bathroom on my own. As if he had read my thoughts, he pulled me forward and led me out of the room and into the warm, dark hallway. Once in the bathroom, he turned on the light and laid the clothes on a white wooden chair next to the shower. I held on to the sink and lowered myself onto the closed toilet lid. My hand shielded my eyes from the bright light.
“What’s your name?” I asked without even looking up, my elbows resting on my knees, and my face buried in my hands.
“Blake.”
“Got a last name, Blake?” Just looking up at him too what little energy I had.
“No last name. Just Blake.” He smiled wearily and then retreated into the hallway as he closed the door behind him.
“Just Blake,” I muttered to myself.
The shower made me feel like a person again, stronger and much rejuvenated. I made a mental note to ask Blake just how long I had been out. I picked up the clothes he had given me, and put them on, blushing at the sight of the black bra and panties. What possible reason could he have for keeping such things in his closet. A girlfriend, maybe? Jealousy coursed through me, and I felt childish. I bet she is very pretty. What are you doing? I asked myself. You have a boyfriend, remember?
Once I was dressed I grunted at the reflection in the mirror and stormed out of the bathroom. Blake was sitting by the desk, piling some loose papers on one side. I leaned into the doorway and looked at the room again.
“Feel better?” he asked without taking his eyes off the papers.
“Yes, thank you.” I smiled—a wasted effort since he wasn’t looking at me. I walked into the room and sat on the edge of the bed. “Is now a good time for you to answer my questions?”
I saw his shoulders tense, and then he spun around on his chair, smiling at me. “Sure. What is it you want to know?”
“Where am I? How did I get here? Who are you, ‘just Blake’? What happened?” The words tumbled out.
“Okay, then. Well, you are in my house. I brought you here. I am just Blake, and you should tell me what happened.”
I stared at him. Was this the best he could do? “What do you mean, I should tell you? You’re the one who brought me here.”
“What were you doing at the cemetery?” His eyes seemed to flash brighter, but only for a second.
“I—it was my parents’ funeral.” It took whatever strength was left in me not to burst into tears in front of him.
“And then . . . ?” His eyes were now traveling down to my clenched fist.
“And then is none of your damn business.” What had happened to me? Last thing I remembered was kneeling at the grave. My hand found the back of my head, there was a bump that still was tender. I stood up and stormed out of his room, fed up with his condescending tone.
The hallway was still dark, so I took a chance and turned right. I walked past the bathroom and another closed door but came to a halt when there was nothing but a wall in front of me. I stomped my way back past him as he leaned on his bedroom door with a smile on his face. I finally found the stairs and hit each step with a loud thud to emphasize just how annoyed I was at him. When I finally reached the front door I noticed there was no lock, no knob, no way of opening it. I pushed on it, wondering if it would be that simple, but the door didn’t move. I looked back at the stairs and saw him descend them in silence. He moved as if he was floating down.
“What is this?” I pointed at the bare white door.
“A door.”
Smart-ass. “Oh, wow, no kidding! But how the hell do I open it?” I said through clenched teeth. I wanted to get out of here, out of this strange house. Away from the indescribable feel
ings he sparked in me.
“I am the only one who can open it. And right now, I can’t let you leave.” He closed the space between us, and my heart started pounding fast. What did he want from me? What kind of place was this!?
He pulled the curtain aside and looked through the window, surveying the outside. “I don’t want anything from you. I just have to make sure you are safe. That is all. I made a promise, and I intend to keep it.” My mouth fell open. Did he just respond to my thoughts? And what was he keeping me safe from? I needed to get out of here, and FAST!
“You need to let me go. Now.” I tried to sound tough, but a slight creak in my voice gave me away just as it had in the dream.
“I am sorry; I truly am,” he said. “But I can’t.” He turned and walked toward another room. I stood my ground by the door. He turned on the light and sat on the couch in what, I could now tell, was his living room, motioning for me to sit next to him. Yeah, like that’s going to happen. “Oh, come on. Come sit so we can talk. Isn’t that what you wanted—to talk?”
I hesitated a moment, looking into the room. “Will you let me go after we talk?”
“If that is what you want.”
Skeptical, I walked over to him and sat on the leather chair that was tucked in the far corner. The seat made a farting noise when my weight fell on it, and I could feel my body burn in embarrassment. “It . . . it was the chair,” I mumbled.
Probably to hide the smile that spread across his face, he looked around the room. I cursed under my breath and took the room in. It was welcoming and warm, but there was nothing personal about it. There were no pictures on the walls, no magazines scattered over the coffee table, nothing whatever that might reveal any personal interests. The room, though clean, looked as if it had never been used.
“So talk,” I said.
“What do you want to talk about?”
I glared back at him. “You’re the one that wants to talk. I just want to leave. No offense, but I want to go home.” The tears started welling in my eyes. No. Do not cry, I told myself. Don’t let him get the better of you.
“You shouldn’t go home,” he said. “It isn’t safe.” His eyes were on mine now, any trace of his playfulness gone. He meant what he said, but I couldn’t understand why. “I saved you back at the cemetery. If I wanted to hurt you, I would have done so four days ago.”
“Wait . . . what! I’ve been here four days?” I asked, but the question that was really bothering me, I left unspoken.
“Yeah, you were pretty out of it. You woke up a few times, but I doubt you remember that.” He ran his hands through his sleek black hair. He was gorgeous, all right. He froze, his hand still in his hair, and looked at me, blushing.
“What happened to me? Why can’t I remember and why am I in danger?” I said to change the subject.
“Somebody attacked you at the cemetery, trying to mug you. All you need to know is that you are safe now. You are safe . . . with me.”
“Well, much as I truly appreciate your kindness, you know, for looking after me and all, I’m fine now. And I’d like to be on my way home. There’s nothing dangerous about my house. It’s just a big, empty house now. Nothing dangerous about that.” Right?
“You are not alone. You have me.”
Okay, seriously, could he really be answering my thoughts? I stared at him, searching for anything that gave him away—anything that gave me any reason to believe he was indeed hearing what was being spoken in my mind. He just stared back, not blinking. Just a sly, crooked smile on that gorgeous face.
“I don’t know you.” The words were a mere whisper, and I wondered if he heard them.
“Oh, but you do. And just as I did before, I’m here to help you—if you let me, of course.” His expression took me aback. It was sincere, almost pained. “Please?”
I wanted to throw myself at him, to feel his arms around me, the warmth of his body comforting me.
Avan . . . Avan . . . Avan, I kept repeating to myself. Remember about Avan.
“What is so dangerous out there?” I said. “And why would you be fit to help me?” The words came out with more anger than I had hoped for. I hated myself for feeling this way.
“It’s complicated, Jade.” He shook his head but gave no further explanation. He shifted his weight and looked away.
“Really? That the best you can do? ‘It’s complicated’? I wake up in a stranger’s house, wearing his clothes, after four days in a frigging coma, you tell me about these unseen dangers out to get me, and all I get is, ‘It’s complicated’?” I stood up and walked to the door. “Please let me out.” I didn’t care if I had to walk home—I needed to get out of here.
“I’m sorry. It’s just that . . . well, things are complicated, and it will take time for you to get used to what’s happening.” He had stepped over to me by now, and he rested his hand on my shoulder. I looked into his eyes, their green almost mirroring mine. Then, quite of their own accord, my eyes dropped to his lips. “I promise, you will know everything you need to know, but for now, Jade, it’s safer if you don’t. Please, let me help you.”
“How can I do that when I don’t know what I need help with?” I whispered. I needed to know what was going on. As ludicrous as it all sounded, something in me told me to believe him.
“You are very special and there are people out to harm you.” A lone tear made an impromptu appearance, and his hand held my face, forcing me to face him, as his thumb wiped my cheek. “I will not let anything happen to you. After all, you are . . .” He was quiet for a moment, and as I searched his face, he dropped his gaze to the floor. “You are my destiny.”
I didn’t pretend to comprehend what he meant. I simply closed my eyes and let his arms wrap around me. The warmth that came from his body made me feel at home, as if, somehow, this was where I belonged. He smelled of woods after a thunderstorm, clean and elemental.
I opened my eyes and found myself in my own room, Blake’s scent still lingering in the air. The light shone in through the window. A few puffs of cloud moved slowly overhead. The sound of birdsong made me smile. Had it been a dream? A wonderful dream, I thought to myself
Something moved on the corner of my eye, and my whole body tensed, wishing it was him.
“Jade?” Claire’s soft voice called after me. I peered down on the floor, and there she was. Her hair was the embodiment of messy, the perfectly styled bob gone and, instead, strands of hair shooting up like dry tuft grass in every direction.
I snickered, and in response she threw her pillow at me. “What!” I asked. “What did I do?”
“You’re mean, that’s what.” She grabbed a hairbrush from her bag and began combing it. Even looking as if she had just been electrocuted, she was still adorable. She looked at me again. “It’s nice to see you awake.”
Her words struck me as a little odd. “How . . . how long have I been sleeping?”
Claire lay down beside me on the bed. “Four days.”
So many questions were running wild in my head, yet nothing would come out. How was this possible?
“What happened at the cemetery?” Her voice was soft. “I thought we had lost you for a moment.” I was instantly taken back to the cemetery . . . the two caskets being lowered onto the same grave.
I closed my eyes and said in all sincerity, “I don’t deserve to be alive.”
“What did you just say?” Claire shot up on the bed.
“Can we just let it go?” I said. I turned onto my side, my back to her.
“I don’t think so.”
“It doesn’t matter now. If I had died along with Mom and Dad, people would have soon forgotten about me and my family.” I didn’t want to talk about it. It was painful, and it hadn’t happened as I wished. Still, it felt good to let all my bottled emotions out into the open.
“You think we would have forgotten you just like that?” She was genuinely shocked. “You think Avan would ever forget you?” Hearing his name made me feel gu
ilty. I hadn’t thought about him, and when I had been with Blake . . .
“I—I’m sorry,” I said. “You have to understand, everything I had, the ones who gave me the life I have, were ripped away from me. And, to make it worse, in a very brutal way. Claire, I saw them, their bodies . . .” I felt the tears brimming in my eyes as my vision got blurry. It felt good to cry. It felt as if I was draining some of the vast reservoir of pain that I kept inside me. The numbness that had consumed me was slowly easing its hold.
She wrapped her arms around me. She didn’t need to say anything for me to know she was there for me. Whatever I was going through, she would always be there.
When the last of my tears ran dry, I hugged my bent knees. We were quiet for a little while. “You should really think before you go blurting things like that. We are all here for you. Just talk to us. Let us in. We’re here for you.” Claire’s hand on my arm felt heavy and, at the same time, soothing, calming me down. Soon my eyelids felt heavy, too.
I woke up as a slight burning sensation began in my back, between my shoulder blades. I moved around the bed in discomfort, trying not to wake Claire, hoping it would soon go away. But it didn’t. The burning intensified until it became too much to take.
I got out of bed, climbing carefully over Claire and making sure I didn’t disturb her. Going into the bathroom, I swung the medicine cabinet door open and I poked around until I found the small orange bottle. I threw two pills onto my tongue, following them down with a big gulp of water.
“It will all change.”
My mother’s voice rang in my head. The pain kept growing as flashes of the dream of Claire ran through my head. Lilith . . . Claire . . . The burning was now almost unbearable. My hands clutched the cold marble counter as I let out a silent scream. The pain eased a little, but then another wave came and this time I grunted aloud. Whatever this was, it wouldn’t go unnoticed.
My shirt felt tight, as if someone were pulling on it from the back. I pulled it off over my head and threw it onto the floor. My hands felt sticky. I looked down at the faint trace of blood across my palms. I turned to the side and looked at my reflection in the mirror.
What the hell . . . ?
I stared at my reflection in horror. There were two bloodied slits on the middle of my back, perhaps an inch inward from my shoulder blades. With each wave of pain, they grew larger, tearing my skin open. I fell to my knees and let out an agonized growl as I squirmed, hoping to find a way to make it stop. As I stood back up and looked at myself in the mirror, I saw my eyes glow. Another growl escaped my throat, and a ripping sound filled my ears. The tears were flowing incessantly as the trickle of blood worked its way down my back and onto my jeans.
There was a tap at the door. “Jade? Are you all right?” I couldn’t answer her. Instead, a piercing scream came out of my chest. The pain intensified, and I closed my eyes, both hands covering my face. There was the sound of the shower curtains being pulled back, and something thumped against the door, making me wince. “Jade!” Claire was screaming at me to open the door.
The pain subsided a little, and at last I dared open my eyes. The slow burning sensation spread in a wave from my back onto my limbs, and then it was gone. I stood motionless, afraid the pain would come back if I moved. I slowly looked up and met my glowing eyes in the mirror. Intrigued by them despite the pain and fear, I leaned closer. The green irises took on a fiery neon shine, with the edges burning a bright red. What . . . I recoiled from the mirror and took in my full reflection, which brought the terror back with a vengeance. The door flew open, and Claire barged in.
“Oh, my, Jade . . .” Her eyes were wide with shock.
“I . . . I . . .” But what was there to say? I had no words for what had just happened. “What is happening?” I asked her when I regained the power of speech. As if she could explain such a thing.
“It’s okay, Jade,” she said. “You will be okay.” She closed the space between us and put her hands on either side of my face. Her gray eyes bored into mine. My body felt heavy, and so did my eyelids. “It will all be okay.”
The darkness swirled around me until it had consumed my awareness, and I was gone.
