The Amaryllis

by Alyssa Adamson

  I didn’t know what I’d do.

  A stranger led us up the many stairs. Come step one, a hand met my waist to direct me and I glanced Phil out of the corner of my eye, holding the small of my back as though I might fall. He leaned in until the swell of his lip brushed my ear. “I went to the store. You weren’t there.”

  Indeed. I’d gone out of my way to be up and out the door before first light so I’d make it to school before the bus left. I hadn’t been able to shake that feeling through the night. The foreboding. As much as I enjoyed my time with Phil, I couldn’t help what sensation told me something was wrong.

  I shrugged. “My mom wanted me to take the bus. The accident’s got her a little nervous.”

  At the top of the steps, he rounded on me, though whatever he’d been about to say died on his lips. Once the rest of the class had moved out of earshot, he said, “Your eye. Are you feeling alright?”

  “It’s fine. Just a freak thing,”—although I suddenly felt pretty self-conscious. It had come to my attention during my morning routine that the little blip of red had grown, swallowing up half of one blue iris. “We’ve got to go in.”

  “Bronwyn! Graves!” Dr. Penn called from the door of the squat building before us. “Keep up.”

  He followed behind me as I entered the planetarium, coming face to face with some student-made exhibition of the moon landing and a future trip to Mars. A timer at the end of the room counted down ten minutes until the next showing of Planet Earth and Beyond. Rather than face Phil, I feigned interest in the different facts and models hanging around the hall. Still, he remained two steps behind me. “You’re quiet.”

  “Am I?”

  “I’d prepared myself for questions. This silence is unsettling.”

  I shrugged. “I get the feeling, if I asked, you would lie.”

  He stepped up beside me, fingers squeezing the bar separating us from the solar system until the metal molded itself to his fingers. “I will try very hard not to.”

  I chewed on my inner cheek. Not because I didn’t believe him, but because I didn’t know which question to ask first. “What do you eat?”

  Phil flinched. “We don’t.”

  The taste returned, and it came with a vengeance. “You said you wouldn’t lie.”

  “I don’t eat.” He swallowed and forced himself to release the bar from his death grip, one hand at a time. “I feed.”

  The ominous tone threw me off, but I collected myself behind a roll of the eyes. For all my talk of being trustworthy, I couldn’t lose this minor victory by showing fear. “Semantics, Bronwyn. Don’t stall.”

  “Don’t make me tell you, Eden. Please.”

  “Why not? You promised—!”

  “I can sense your fear already.”

  I should’ve known better than to think I’d sneak that by him. “So what if I am? Don’t I deserve to know what I’ve gotten myself into?”

  I knew I’d won by his deep sigh. “I am immortal.”

  But that was all he said. “Is that supposed to scare me?”

  “I will live forever because I have an ever-growing number of years. Years I take from mortals, like you. All I need to do is touch, and I can strip ten years off your lifespan in ten seconds. You wouldn’t even know it.”

  My insides churned. An image came to mind of a little Eden, turning pruney as Phil sucked the life out of her with a straw. Every time I’d touched him, skin-on-skin, rushed back to the forefront. “Do you do that often?”

  “I knew I couldn’t tell you. Your fear—”

  “Tell me anyway!”

  “I haven’t fed as much as I would. Not since Wednesday.”

  Despite all my efforts, I couldn’t shake that picture. “Why not?”

  “I’ve never had a mortal friend before. I’ve never had to think of them as more than…”

  He, wisely, didn’t go on. “Food.”

  “Yes,” he breathed. “Food.”

  “Have you ever fed on me?”

  The silence itched worse than his confessions. “Please. Don’t make me lie to you, Eden.” He chewed on his lip, licking away the beads of sweat that lingered there.

  I felt like he’d punched me. My lungs wouldn’t re-inflate. How much of my life had he stolen from me? The chance to know my grandchildren? Years spent growing old with a husband? Panic made me laugh and my voice shook. “I guess that answers that question.”

  “I swear to you, you’ve lost nothing. It might be in my nature to take, but I learned to give when I saved you from that wreck. I extended my own essence to heal you and, in so doing, gave you my own years. How many? I can’t be sure. But you could live to one hundred and fifty for all I know—”

  That came as…somewhat of a relief. “What about everybody else? How many people have you done this to?”

  “Millions. Easily millions.”

  “And you don’t feel…anything?” I whispered. “You killed them. You stole them from people who loved them. And you never felt guilty.”

  He hesitated. “I did what I could. I made it better.”

  “Because you helped me? What the hell makes you think I’m special enough to make up for those other things?”

  “Because!” His yelp made the people around the room stare. Faced with their attention, he pulled me aside, barely murmuring, “Because I care for you.”

  My fists clenched, desire to melt warring with my need for justice. I damned him for making words that should’ve made me happy fall flat. Damned him for making me wonder if he could mean them at all. “Would you feed from my parents?”

  “Never.”

  “Would you feed from Zach?”

  He shook his head. “I couldn’t.”

  “Why not?”

  “They matter to you. So they matter to me.”

  “And if I said that my mortal race matters to me?” I snapped. “What would you do?” The vile taste of deceit reared its ugly head. “And don’t you dare lie to me!”

  The jerk had the nerve to chuckle. “I don’t think there is a single thing in this world I wouldn’t do for you, Eden.”

  Just like that, I felt disarmed and newly furious. It wasn’t fair that the strength of my resolve could be tested by a few sweet words and it was cruel of him to use them against me. “What kind of angel are you?”

  Phil went quiet. As the counter for our main attraction ticked closer to zero, I made myself aloof, silently enjoying the exhibition. Unfortunately, he kept pace at my side until we had to move into the theater, never speaking a word, never cracking a smile, and never looking in my direction.

  It erred just slightly on the side of infuriating. I’d sworn to give him the silent treatment and, yet, felt like I was the one being punished.

  When I tried to catch up with the rest of my classmates, he held me back by my jacket until we came to the end. I waited for his que, expecting more explanations or pretty words but I got none. He just shook his head. Once the rest of the class disappeared within, he fell into step toward the rear of the room and pulled me along with him.

  From the inside, the planetarium looked like a movie theatre. The rows of chairs sprung up, just like in the movie theatre. The fabric lining them leaked foam through holes and gashes, just like in the movie theatres. A blank screen lined the walls, just like in the movie theatres. Unlike the movies, though, this one hung higher across the tall ceiling as well.

  “What is your problem?” I hissed as he ushered me across the row.

  He shook his head, lifting his finger to his lip. Quiet.

  I didn’t bother masking my indignation. “Am I talking too much for you?”

  His lip quirked up.

  “You think this is funny, then—?”

  He covered my mouth with his hand, sending my stomach into cartwheels. Unnamed, near explosive desires to lean in closer, to feel his heat on my skin, yanked at my navel like a steel cable. It was much too much to hope that he wouldn’t feel it.

  Bad, Eden. You’re mad at him. You
don’t lust after people you’re mad at.

  I didn’t listen. Shifting out of my sudden imaginings of kissing Phil felt practically impossible, anyway. My lungs refused to breathe.

  The lights went out with the sudden blaring of speakers, introducing us to the Planet Earth. Phil’s hand slipped away from my face. Breathing in my first gasp of fresh air pushed away the idiot thoughts and I pinched myself until the remaining tender feelings left with them.

  It was very dangerous to sit in this room with him. I could hardly see the outline of his figure but I could feel his radiating presence like my own personal sun. My body leaned in of its own volition, soaking him in.

  Which made it difficult to remember that he was supposed to be off limits.

  “Eden?”

  I almost didn’t recognize his voice in whisper, but there couldn’t be another boy whose tenor sounded so appealing.

  I tried to ignore him.

  “Please, don’t be angry with me.” His skin brushed my knuckles. I cringed away.

  “Please,” I whispered as he took me by the hand again. How could I keep him out of my head if he kept touching me? “No.”

  He didn’t release me, rubbing soothing circles into my palm with both thumbs. His breath fanned over my face as if, through the dark, he leaned closer.

  This had to be a dream. Or some kind of prank. Maybe between now and the moment the lights went out, I’d fallen asleep.

  But he felt so real. As he came closer still, and the firm, scaly swell of his bottom lip met mine, he whispered, “My Eden.”

  I melted.

  He dropped my hand, wrapping both arms around my back to pull me into him further while his mouth devoured mine. I let him do it gladly, grabbing for whatever parts of him I could fit my hands around.

  He responded in kind, pressing fingers into my waist to hold me still. I struggled to regulate my breathing. My classmates would hear if I didn’t, but, with time, I no longer cared. There was no room for such trifles when my head felt so full. Full of Phil. Full of affection. Full of curiosity. Full of tenderness.

  Phil retreated, breathing heavily. I could’ve whined. What did I do wrong?

  But he was smiling down at me, face alight with something I couldn’t name. I moved to pull him back, whether he was ready or not.

  Before I could, his smile faded. His eyelids drooped. His breaths turned labored.

  “Your eyes,” he hissed.

  Then, Phil collapsed.

  10. Gregory

  I tried to catch a ride in the ambulance, but I couldn’t lie like I had with Zach. For one, there were too many witnesses, none of which would corroborate my story. And, for another, I couldn’t be sure between each of their perspectives if there would be any similarities to insinuate relation between us. So I just kept close to his unconscious body on the gurney, holding his hand while they pulled him away.

  His chest rose and fell with each of his breaths. Only barely, but I clung to the hope that they meant he wasn’t so poorly off. An oxygen mask covered his mouth and nose and oftentimes he would open his eyes, though they never focused on anything for very long. Sometimes he would look up at the sky, blinking frantically before his eyes rolled back into his head. Other times, he would find me and the grip on my fingers would tighten to the most infinitesimal degree. Then it would slip away.

  I could only imagine he didn’t have the strength to speak, but his mouth moved around words I couldn’t read as he stared at me.

  Some phantom…twinge ached in my chest. My hands squeezed one of his, but I knew I was deluding myself in thinking I could do him any measure of good. Keeping him in my line of sight wouldn’t help him.

  “Phil?” I pleaded, reaching for his face as we walked. An EMT swatted my hand away, but I didn’t so much as glance in the stranger’s direction. Some irrational thought lingered in my head that if I couldn’t see him, he’d vanish into thin air. “Phillip? Can you hear me?”

  His eyes opened, focused for the moment, and steered in my direction. He lifted his arm but it fell back to his side. Driven by frantic need, I gripped his palm and held it to my lip. “Please, be okay. Please.”

  His thumb swept over the hollow of my cheek, eyes stopping just short of closed. The mouth hidden under the mask moved slower:

  Don’t cry, angel.

  I hadn’t even realized I was crying. Phil had seemed so foreboding in his presence. So strong. He’d taken on a car windshield to save me. What on god’s green earth could hurt someone like that?

  His eyes slid shut and the movements of his lips turned lethargic, but I could still tell they moved around my name. Eden, where’s Eden?

  “I’m here!” I insisted, clinging harder to his side. Had he worn actual human flesh, his arm would’ve bruised. “Open your eyes. Please, open your eyes.”

  He didn’t glow like he was supposed to. It made him look dead, instead of asleep, like his labored breaths assured me.

  “No! Wake up. Phillip, wake up!”

  “Miss, I’m going to need you to stand back,” the same EMT who’d slapped my hand away grunted.

  I glanced from his aging face to Phil and bit my tongue. I clung to the taste of blood, needing to occupy my thoughts with something that wasn’t the nameless agony. Unclenching my hands, I let his arm fall back to the cot. His mouth no longer moved. His eyes didn’t open.

  They folded him into the back of the ambulance and shut the doors, disrupting my view completely. From then on, the day went…grey.

  The tragedy cut our field trip short. Already distraught that a student had dropped on his watch, Dr. Penn ushered us all onto the bus. I pointed out Phil’s car as we passed, letting him know that it wouldn’t be getting home, but it didn’t seem like the man could focus on me.

  I didn’t blame him. I hadn’t stopped shaking since Phil dropped.

  The EMTs hadn’t known what to do with him when they’d finally arrived. Physically, he looked fine, if a bit flushed. Young. Peak condition. I wondered if that was the problem. Phil had said it himself that the way he looked was not the way he was. Perhaps, under that human façade, he was hurt.

  They’d never know. No doctor would see through that skin and, even if they did, they wouldn’t know how to help. He’d need—

  No. I couldn’t fathom that I’d even considered it. Gregory was a punk. A snake. And if he was as powerful as Phil, he was liable to kill him as easily as heal him. I couldn’t imagine him possessing one iota of brotherly concern.

  I slammed my forehead into the cold bus window, startling the girl beside me. “You okay?” she asked.

  I didn’t bother replying.

  If Lily couldn’t use whatever powers their kind had, then what other choice did I have but to ask Gregory? It wasn’t as though I knew a surplus of angels. I hit my head again. Did my loyalty to Zach extend far enough that I’d let Phil suffer for him? He might not have been guiltless, but he was good. He had to be. And he deserved my protection as much as Zach did.

  Every second that crept by in that bus felt like torture. I could already imagine the smug smile on that snake’s face when I’d walk up to him, hat in hand. It made me sick.

  As the bus pulled to a stop against the curb, I lifted my head, looking out across the grounds of Joy High School. He sat frozen in one of the windows, staring back like he’d been waiting for me. I cursed under my breath.

  He probably was.

  Despite sitting in the fifth row, I took off through the exit before anyone could stand, tearing across the sidewalk toward the doors nearest Gregory. I was near-positive the window he’d taken up residence in was in the library, but as I ran through the hallways, the feel of a hand fisted in the front of my shirt stopped me alongside the janitor’s closet, yanking me out of sight and into the dark.

  “Miss Graves,” he crooned. “I figured you would come around.”

  I swallowed back the bile. “You wish, pig!”

  “Oh, feisty. If I didn’t know any better, I would think you wer
en’t about to ask me for a favor.”

  I held my breath. “How did you know?”

  “I could feel it when Philly went down. It was just my natural instinct that told me his little human would come running to me in a panic. So, Eden, what do want from me, and what are you willing to pay to get it?”

  “I don’t have anything—”

  “Now, now,” he hushed. “Let’s talk about my end first. What is it you’d like from me?”

  I chewed on the words for a few precious seconds before they erupted in a great flood. “Phil’s hurt! I don’t know what’s wrong with him. He just collapsed! I know you can help him, just like he helped me! Please. I don’t know any other angels who could do it, otherwise I would’ve asked them. Even Lily said…” I trailed off as a strange rumbling resounded through the closet.

  Gregory was…laughing.

  “Is that what he told you?”

  The disconcerting sound threw me off my present thought. “It…It’s what I saw! Phil healed me. You’re—”

  “He told you we’re angels?”

  I floundered for words. “Well…yes, he—”

  “Do I look like an angel to you, little girl?”

  Maybe at one time, I would’ve thought so. Now, if I could see him through the dark, I knew I’d only see the devil. “No.”

  “That’s right. I suppose Phil was trying not to run you off. What would he do if he didn’t have you to distract him? He does get bored so easily.”

  I got the feeling that I was supposed to be offended. “If you’re not an angel, what the hell are you?”

  The silhouette of his hand lifted in the dark, outstretching to touch my face.

  I darted backward. “What are you doing?”

  “Just testing something,” he murmured innocently. “I am an incubus. Phil is an incubus.”

  I frowned, thinking back on why that word would’ve been familiar. “The sex demons?” Nothing has ever made more sense.

  “If you’d put it so crudely,” he mocked. “I am a demon that subsists on the life force of others. If they taste better during sex, that is neither here nor there.”