The Amaryllis

by Alyssa Adamson

  An urge itched at my insides, whispering things I didn’t understand. I scratched at my head, waiting for a feeling of satisfaction to reply, but it only called louder, demanding I reach for…something? Someone?

  Rebelling against the foreign feeling, I backed away.

  “I…” I looked around in search of some way out. “I didn’t know I had a ride.”

  “Of course, hon’.” She threw her arm over my shoulders, a move that, for all my seventeen years, I couldn’t recall her ever doing before. It reminded me that I wanted to walk, even if that meant walking in the cold. She hadn’t seen what madness had left me unscathed in that accident and, yet, she still looked at me like a freak-show. “I think you could use a break after all that craziness.”

  I rolled my eyes. I didn’t like school, but I could hardly call it strenuous. “It’s okay. I think I can manage it.”

  “Maybe we could talk?”

  I’d suspected as much. Wordlessly, I took my backpack off the coat hook and swung it over my shoulder on my way out the door. I stopped. Mom stopped.

  A black Mustang idled in the parking lot. Its blonde-headed owner stood beside the passenger’s side door with arms crossed, hands clothed in a second, leather skin. He didn’t smile, but I thought the set of his jaw looked softer. Gentler.

  “It’s quite cold this morning,” he announced.

  Mom’s mouth hung open. “Hi, Phillip!”

  Never once did his eyes flicker from me. “What are you doing here?”

  “I didn’t want to risk you walking to school. I would offer my services.”

  “Oh my god,” Mom sang. She gripped my hand, hauling me back a step. “He really likes you!”

  The feel of foreign skin on mine felt strange. I didn’t think I’d felt tired when I lazed about the house this weekend—I’d spent most of it unconscious—but now I sparked like a live wire. I reached over to pull her hand away and felt a shocking delight creep up my arm, filling my veins with liquid fire. It lingered even after her touch had migrated away.

  Startled, I jerked away, masking my aversion with a skip down the steps. Phil opened the door, allowing me to slide in, safe from whatever prying she’d wanted to do.

  “Be safe, honey! I miss you! Drive carefully!” She shouted until the car door slammed shut. Then her distress became a series of unintelligible birdcalls.

  Phil pulled himself into his seat. Two things occurred at the same time: his door slammed shut and the engine roared, sending us into the road.

  “As much as I appreciate the hasty getaway,” I gripped the chair for dear life, “what the hell is the rush?”

  He peeled a glove off, laying his hand palm-up on the center console. Even under fear of death, I managed a bit of anxiety over whether he wanted to hold my hand. “Touch me and you won’t have to be afraid.”

  “Will that also make me immortal? Only one of us is going to die when you crash this car. You can heal me all you want but I’m not crazy about the pain that comes before that.”

  He gave nothing away, but I could see the wince in his contracting fingers. The speedometer dipped to a reasonable thirty-five. “I should hope you have more faith in me than that. I have already proven I can keep you safe.”

  I released my death grip on the upholstery. “I don’t think you’d hurt me on purpose, but the roads could be icy.”

  “My reflexes far surpass any of your kind’s. You will never be safer than you are right here. Next to me.”

  A thrill went down my back, reddening my face and making my hands shake. I chewed on my tongue. Despite my best efforts, I couldn’t stifle my smile.

  As we turned off the road and into the school parking lot, something Phil saw in the distance made his jaw close with an audible snap. His superhuman status must’ve meant his eyes were stronger than mine because it took a few hundred feet before I could make out Gregory’s spindly figure under the front door’s overhang.

  I doubted he parked at the furthest end of the lot by mere coincidence. “It would be in your best interest to stay away from Gregory.”

  The boy in question smiled and stepped off the stoop.

  “Can he hear us?”

  Gregory nodded, long legs eating up the hundreds of feet between us with ease. Phil only growled. He jerked the key from the ignition with a ferocity I was surprised hadn’t snapped it in half. “Apparently that feat is easier said than done. Edy, remember, Gregory enjoys nothing more than pain. He will say things to hurt you. You cannot let him get to you. Please.”

  “Okay—”

  My door swung open. In the same instant, an arm took my waist, removing me from the car. I knew, simply by the prickle across my skin, that it was Gregory’s. “Good morning, Ms. Graves. I cannot help but notice the new ride. Is Zachary feeling ill?”

  Something stuck in my throat.

  “Don’t touch me.”

  “You seem upset, Edy. I would not worry. His suffering will end soon. If you ask nice enough, I might be willing to offer a little kick in the right direction.”

  My body took over. Arms flailing, fists already clenched to break his nose, I launched myself at his face, only to feel another set of arms pull me aside before I could reach. My throat burned red and raw. Distantly, it occurred to me that I was screaming.

  “I hate you! I hate you! I swear to god, I hate you!” Tears streamed hot and quick down my face, blurring the sight of him. “You’re a monster! You’re evil!”

  Phil’s lips brushed the shell of my ear, radiating peace. Radiating warmth. “It is okay. You are okay. He is pushing your buttons. Do not touch him.”

  He only fanned my flame. “Sure, protect him.”

  “I am not protecting him, I am protecting you.”

  I scowled at Gregory but allowed myself to go slack against Phil’s chest. It felt nice. Inviting.

  Right.

  He shook. With every growled word, he rumbled under my hands. “You have done what you came to do. Leave, Gregory. There is nothing else for you here.”

  “You have never done a very good job at sharing, Mephistopheles.”

  Phil’s breath stilled in his lungs. “I will not start today.”

  Gregory sighed, rolling his eyes. “You will get bored. You always get bored.”

  I clung to Phil’s body, letting him pull me away because, if I let go, I wouldn’t be able to stop myself from swinging at Gregory’s face. He didn’t stop until the two of us had vanished behind the frosted glass door of the men’s room, scowling gaze set on what guys already stood between the walls of the urinals.

  “Out.”

  They scrambled to obey.

  “What can I do?” he asked, leading me to an open stall and setting me down on the lid of the toilet. He knelt to my level. “How can I help? Tell me what to do.”

  “I don’t want help.” I struggled to breathe slowly.

  “I can’t do nothing, Edy. You’re turning red.”

  “I’m mad.”

  “But it can’t be good for you, can it? You’re mortal! Don’t mortals have heart attacks? Does your chest hurt? Are you having a heart attack?

  Against my wishes, a smile found its way onto my lip. “I’m not having a heart attack.” Fury cooling, I slumped between my knees. “Distract me.”

  “How?”

  “Tell me about you. What else can you do?”

  “Hmm?”

  “Well…you’re an angel! I want to know what you’re capable of. What can you do?”

  Phil shrugged. “I can’t think of anything else you would want to know.”

  “Are you kidding? You’re immortal! You saved my life! I want to know everything. Like…why do your eyes change color?”

  “That is an easy one. Contact lenses.”

  “Immortality gives great reflexes, but it can’t fix astigmatism?”

  He cast me a long-suffering glare with eyes that were their normal violet. “Not medical. Just some blue plastic to cover up red eyes. They draw too much attention.”r />
  “Lots of people saw them Thursday—”

  “Thursday was…” he gripped the wall with white knuckles. “Thursday was different.”

  I sensed I’d strayed into dangerous territory. For one, because thoughts of Thursday meant thoughts of Zach and the accompanying depression. For another, Phil’s nostrils flared, lip curling back over his teeth. His anger seeped into my pores as potently as my own.

  I didn’t hesitate to grab his hand, ready for the good feelings he could offer me, but found nothing positive to speak of. His skin burned with rage. With guilt. With terrible self-loathing.

  “You will not find what you are looking for, Eden. I hardly remember what happiness feels like.”

  My grip held tight, but I thought I did it more for his benefit than my own. With time, Phil’s anger faded.

  “I didn’t have time to put the contacts in on Thursday. I…I broke one when I felt this foreign sensation of panic. Your panic. So potent I could feel it across town.”

  “Is that normal?”

  “I do not spend much time with mortals. I’ve become attuned to you because this proximity has made it so. There have been times that I can feel your happiness. Or your sadness. Or your loneliness. Even when I am in my home and you are in yours. It did not prepare me for the burning.” He shuddered.

  Another slap of self-loathing stung my palm. It made me reluctant to speak. “I’m not lonely.”

  I got the feeling Phil would’ve gifted me another long-suffering sigh, if not for his evident amusement. “I do not feel that you are lying this time. You must be getting very good at fooling yourself.”

  “Wouldn’t I know best?”

  “I am sure you already know. I feel you often. Alone. Sad. Trying to hide that you are alone and sad. Even when I checked on you, I could hear you deny being upset to your parents. And for what? What good does it do you to pretend?”

  I had an easy answer. “Sometimes it feels better not to talk about it.” In the same breath, I added, “You checked up on me? Why?”

  Phil had the grace to look embarrassed. “I knew you were upset.”

  “My best friend is in a coma. Why the hell wouldn’t I be upset?”

  “This was before the accident.” He begrudged admitting, “I knew you were upset. There is only so much I can take before I have to wonder if something is wrong.”

  “And what did you see?” I squeaked. Oh god, oh god, I hadn’t done anything horrendously embarrassing, had I? Hadn’t traipsed around in a towel?

  Calm washed through me. Not quite happiness, but a welcome reprieve, nonetheless.

  “Not to worry, Eden. If there is anything I have learned in my visits, it is that, as far as mortal teenagers go, you are quite dull.”

  I would’ve been mildly offended if I didn’t agree. “Then why look?”

  “I wonder the same thing,” he countered. “I tell myself every time that I will find you in that greenhouse, engrossed in your gardening, but it isn’t a logical drive. Even if there is only a slight chance that you may need me, I have to go. Helping, on the other hand, is conditional on your mother’s interference.”

  “I didn’t know she was so formidable.”

  “She resisted even the best of my charms. The two of you have that in common.”

  I scoffed. “I’ve seen you put your fist through a windshield without a drop of blood. You mean to tell me you were thwarted by a woman who barely passes for five feet tall?”

  “Would you rather I put my fist through your mother?”

  His voice, suddenly deep with malice, sent a shudder down my back. “Some angel you are.”

  “It would do me no good to kill your mother, Edy. Just a question.”

  My neck snapped aside. “Edy?”

  “Is that…wrong? I have heard your friend call you that. Are we not…friends?”

  He shifted with discomfort, unwilling to break the silence just as much as I was. His fingers clenched around my hand, rough and large and warm. I didn’t have many friends—had never felt a need to have many friends—but in Phil’s case…how could I ask for someone better? A savior. A support system. Just the touch of his hand could make me happier than I remembered being on my own. I supposed my aversion was with the voice that said it. More specifically, the voice that wasn’t saying it.

  “Edy is fine. We’re…friends.”

  The bell rang. The smile that had begun to lift his lip abruptly died. He sighed. “We can leave. Say the word and I will take you home. You can sit in the greenhouse.”

  Ordinarily, I would’ve taken him up on that in a heartbeat. But, if I did, I could only imagine how satisfied Gregory would be to scare me away. Which would only make things worse for me. It would be cowardly to run.

  I wasn’t a coward.

  “I want to stay.”

  He nodded. “You feel better?”

  I looked around the little stall and shrugged. “A little gross but optimistic. I’ve never seen the men’s room before.”

  I didn’t question how he knew where my homeroom was, supposing that it was just another place where he’d checked up on me. Maybe Lily had mentioned it…

  Ha. As if Lily ever spoke; at this point, I doubted her capable.

  Phil pried my arms away from his waist, although reluctant hands remained on my shoulders to keep me within reach. “If you change your mind, just call. Whisper my name. I’ll hear. And I’ll come get you.”

  People stared, whispered, gasped, but while I heard Phil’s name among the mutterings, I never heard my own. If I had to guess, because they didn’t know it. I understood their shock. Phil had, unknowingly, put us in a compromising position. If I wasn’t already sure of the opposite, I might’ve expected him to kiss me.

  I wanted him to.

  Which was probably why I skipped backward, breaking his hold on me. “Th…Thanks. I’ll keep that in mind. I’ll see you later.”

  I held tight to the calm from his touch but as I trudged through the rows, plopping into my chair, the burn of his stare bored holes through my back and made my heart race. Easy, girl. Phil’s a friend.

  I liked to believe it was my residual anger making me sweat. That would be much less embarrassing than having to admit to a maybe-sort of-half-cocked crush on Phil. My angel. My savior.

  The other Bronwyn didn’t so much as budge, even when my chair squealed across the floor. Rather, she stared through the window with an intensity I could be positive now was inhuman. She looked out of place. In the class. In the school. In the world. That didn’t matter. At present, she was the only Bronwyn I wanted to see.

  And I could still feel Phil, staring from the doorway; at least, until the homeroom bell rang and a fleeting glance upward revealed that I was well and truly alone.

  “I’m sorry.”

  I didn’t look up at the unfamiliar voice. It was only as I tried to find a place through the glass to focus my attention that I realized the voice had come from Lily, and that she’d spoken to me.

  “Excuse me?”

  “Did you love that boy?” she inquired, voice like a flat line. “The boy from the accident?”

  Casting away my surprise, I ran her words through my head again and again and frowned. Just like my mother, she spoke like Zach had already died. “He’s my best friend,” I murmured. “Of course I love him.” Present tense. So long as he drew breath…

  “Gregory does not understand what love is. He is a selfish creature. Do not let him manipulate you.” Her eyes returned to the window and I figured that was as good as a dismissal. “Time will heal your wounds.”

  “I don’t have wounds. He’s still alive!”

  Everyone within the next few rows turned to stare. Lily seemed unperturbed but I shrunk into my chair to avoid the eyes. As their interest died away, I glanced at the back of Lily’s head. “Could…” I lowered my voice, “Could you help him?”

  She sighed and shook her head, but she didn’t look away from the outside.

  A breath I’d been
holding hissed out through clenched teeth. “Exposure?”

  “I care very little for what would become of humans if they knew of our existence. I care very little for anything.”

  “Then why? I’ll pay, if that’s what you want. If I have to give you every paycheck I make until I die, I’ll do it. Just, please—”

  “Even if I was as practiced in the art as Phil, I am no more powerful than you. Just a mortal now.”

  I appraised her, noting the grey of her skin that made her so different from her brothers. Compared to them, she looked like a mortal. Maybe even less. “Why? What’s wrong with you?”

  She shrugged as though the question didn’t bother her, but the line of her shoulders tensed. “I cannot feed. So I cannot use.”

  “Why can’t you feed?”

  This time, she didn’t answer. I immediately thought of apologizing for the prying question, but, with time, I realized she wasn’t ignoring me. She’d…forgotten about me. A glaze hid her grey eyes, taking her somewhere far away from this room.

  “Lily?” I inquired, wholly unnerved.

  She didn’t stir.

  “Lily—?”

  “Good morning, class!” Mrs. Brown swept into the room with a chain of artificial lavender atop her head. Serenity. I could’ve used some at the moment. “Today, we’re going to work on shading.”

  A low groan answered from the collective. That signaled my opportunity to check out of this torture. I couldn’t hope to succeed any further than picking a yellow-enough shade for the rose I hadn’t yet started. Sinking further into the cradle of my arms, I stretched across the desktop as far as the chair in front of me would allow and wondered if good thoughts had taken over Lily’s mind.

  I doubted it.

  “Eden.”

  Jerking upright, I found Lily had gravitated close. Cold wafted off her skin.

  “Here,” she deadpanned, extending a pencil I must’ve dropped.

  I couldn’t mask my astonishment. “Thank you.” I reached out to take it and, in so doing, my fingers brushed hers.

  Lily’s skin was nothing like a human’s but like everything I would’ve expected from her. Frigid. Bloodless. Just another concrete extension of a concrete woman.

  A sense of loss coursed through me as a winter hailstorm would. Sadness coated everything it touched like a slick of ice. My limbs felt heavy. Stiff. A thousand stones found a home in my chest.