The Amaryllis

by Alyssa Adamson

  He offered a smirk. “You’re still just a baby at this. You’re learning.”

  I didn’t see the same humor in it. “I would’ve killed them,” I whispered. “I wanted to.”

  Apparently, it wasn’t anything he didn’t already know. He gave me a knowing look. “But you didn’t.”

  “Because of you.”

  “Because of me. And because you cared.”

  “But what if you weren’t there?” I hissed. “I could’ve…I would’ve…”

  “I’ll always be there when you need me.” He nudged me with his shoulder. “And if I’m not, you just have to remember the girl who scolded me for stealing.”

  I made the mistake of meeting his eyes. The urge to touch him, even if it was just to hug him, crashed over me. He leaned in, undoubtedly feeling my desire like electricity in the air. I could feel his just as potently.

  I snapped back to the first aid kit, pulling a foil packet of burn cream from the unkempt stack of ointments and Neosporin. Phil had already proven he cared very little for his own well-being. It seemed that I would have to care enough for the both of us.

  Dabbing a cotton ball in the cream, I reached for his hand, only to pause with inches to spare. “Maybe you should take care of it.”

  He nodded, and pinched the cotton ball between his fingers. “Thank you.” I watched him work, hissing and groaning as he pressed the yellow cream to his fragile skin. When he’d finished with that, I took a roll of gauze from the kit. His eyes crinkled in the corner when he chuckled. “I might need some help with that.”

  “You know I can’t.”

  He took the gauze as well and wound it around his first palm. Then the other. My desire to touch him crackled in the air, practically screaming that I give in. “Are you okay, Edy?”

  I cast him a dry look. “I’m sure you know just as well as I do.” He waited for me to go on. “I feel so…alone.”

  “I’m right here.”

  I stood, pacing so I wouldn’t give in to the urge. The distance didn’t help. “I want to touch people. Hugs. Handshakes. High-fives. Anything. But every time I do, all I can think about is that I’m stealing their lives out from under them. And I want…” I want to kiss you. I refused to say it aloud. “I want to feel normal. Without worrying that I’m hurting someone.”

  He stood along with me, stilling with his hands on my shoulders, and winced. “I could teach you.”

  “Teach me what?”

  “It’s not impossible that you would be able to be around people without feeding.”

  Hope welled in my chest. Already two steps ahead of me, my arms tried to embrace him before I let them fall, dejected back to my sides. “How?” I pleaded. “How can I touch you?”

  He smiled sadly. “It will take concentration.” He extended his hand until it nearly touched mine. “Your instinct will be to feed on me, but you have to hold back.” His palm brushed mine. “Picture us as two separate entities. Two solid masses of energy that remain completely intact.”

  It was…difficult. For one, feeding on Phil felt good and resisting the taste of his happiness felt like torture. For another, every fiber of my being screamed at me to lose focus. Even being in close proximity with him demanded a slip. My body wanted to be one with his.

  But I held back. When I was sure holding his hand wasn’t detrimental to his health, I kept the awareness of his mortality in the forefront of my mind, hungry for something other than his essence.

  My arms opened and circled Phil, fingers edging up the back of his shirt so that my skin warmed his. When he didn’t pull away, I came closer, laying my head on his chest to listen to the pound of his heart in my ear.

  For one miraculous moment, I realized that its beat matched mine.

  Slowly, hesitantly, his arms rounded me, hands flattening across my back. He didn’t say a word. I didn’t say a word.

  Spurred on by his acceptance, I let my hand fist in the material of his shirt and pull it over his head, only to be surprised again that he didn’t fight me. Stripped bare from the waist up, he was quite beautiful, all sharp angles and fine edges. I looked up into his violet eyes to find them already looking down at me, brow crinkled with confusion.

  Nevertheless, he pulled my shirt off as well.

  “What is this?” he whispered.

  The chill in the air made the decision easier that I would press myself against him, chest to chest without the hindrance of clothes between us. Suddenly feeling very shy, I couldn’t raise my voice any louder than his, “I can feel you.”

  The tips of his fingers felt over the curve of my waist, settling on my hips to keep me close. He nodded. “I can feel you, too.”

  My hands extended upward, then paused. I had tried this once before, and it hadn’t ended well for him. “Can…can I?”

  I doubted he had any idea what I was asking for. I didn’t even know what I was asking for. But with his nod, I threw caution to the wind and held his face in my grip, enjoying the flesh like scales under my palms. Flesh that hadn’t felt anyone’s lengthy touch in a long time.

  Phil’s eyes closed, breath escaping through his lips. The moment I found them in my sight, I couldn’t look away, so, thinking nothing on boundaries, or how angry he might’ve been that I’d risked him so grossly, I shifted forward onto my toes and closed the distance between us.

  His breath halted with surprise.

  The small sound snapped me out of my own stupidity. I reared back, eyes wide, and covered my mouth with my hand. His eyes were still closed.

  “I…I’m sorry.” I tried to pull away from him but the hands on my hips kept me still.

  His voice was ragged. Sultry. “Eden. I did not tell you to stop.” He didn’t wait for a reply, pulling me up onto my toes again to wrap me up in his arms. Once again, his mouth fell on mine.

  My heart jackhammered in my chest as I dwelled on that image in my head of two different entities. Every time his lips moved on mine, I grew just the slightest bit further away from that thought, only to remember myself and cling to it afresh. Phil was more important than my own desires. Phil had to be more important than my own desires.

  When I could no longer stand to risk him, I jerked backward, keeping my lips and my skin as far from him as I could manage while imprisoned in his embrace. He didn’t make it easy, breathing shallowly and dropping his forehead on my shoulder. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” he whispered. “I know. It can’t be easy.”

  I shook my head. “You have no idea.”

  That didn’t stop him from prodding my bottom lip with his thumb, and then delivering another kiss to the spot he’d touched. I clung to that image. Two entities. Separate.

  “Please, Phil. I can’t take anymore,” I hissed.

  He nodded, releasing me with begrudging slowness. His rebel fingers brushed over my face. I sighed, enjoying the feel as much as I wanted to cast it away. Reluctantly, he spoke, “I thought it would matter that you have those red eyes.”

  “Does it?”

  He shook his head.

  I pried his hand away from my face, wrapping it up in my fingers so they would dangle between us. “This could’ve been so much easier.”

  His face broke with pain. “It will be easy again.”

  “When?”

  He stared down at me, into me, through me. “You can move forward, like me. College. Career. All the pleasures of mortals that I’ve been deprived of.” Carried away by a daydream, he smiled, “Old. Wrinkled. Happy. Looking back on a life where I contributed to the world, instead of taking from it.”

  I could see the pretty picture in his head and smiled for him, if only bitter-sweetly. Maybe we could’ve been neighbors. Against my will, an image came to mind of a time-weathered Phil sitting beside me on a porch swing, looking out over a yard full of grandchildren. Our grandchildren.

  It hit me like a punch to the gut. That would never happen. He didn’t want that to happen.

  “A career?” I inquired, needing some diversion from the
melancholy that pervaded my being. “What would you do?”

  “I’d be a doctor,” he replied easily. “As penance for the harm I’ve done.”

  I nodded. “That’s a nice thing to do.” My throat tightened. I backed away from him, needing very much to be alone. I pulled my shirt over my head again. “Maybe I’ll come visit you sometimes. I’ll bring roses and teach you all the different meanings.”

  The smile on his face faded. I didn’t blame him. My resolve to stop feeding wavered with every moment I grew hungrier.

  “I’ll practice a lot by then. But if staying away is best, no problem. I completely understand,” I rambled. “I’ll mail them. Maybe I’ll even write letters. We could be pen pals.”

  My hands shook. Phil’s silence made me nervous, like he was readying to tell me bad news and I braced myself for it. I couldn’t look him in the eye, so I found the petals of a nearby primrose. I can’t live without you.

  Somehow, that was worse. “I think I might need a nap. See you at school tomorrow, right? That Calculus test is going to be brutal.”

  “Eden.”

  As much as I ordered my legs to keep moving, bringing me closer to the stairs, they froze. Phil made no move to approach me.

  “There will never be anyone for me but you.”

  The silence lingered so heavily that I wondered if he’d spoken at all. Finally, he sighed, turning his eyes to the floor as though the sight of me pained him. “I see. How could I compete with the prospect of forever? Power? I wouldn’t choose me, either.”

  I hadn’t realized there was a choice to make. Raising my hands, I probed his face and could hardly believe that I felt actual flesh and blood beneath my fingers.

  My voice caught in my throat. “I know what you said the other day…about never wanting to feel the way Jehanne made you feel. I don’t want you to think I’m pushing too far, but I have to know. Could you ever really love me? Knowing that it could hurt you?”

  He fixed me under the heat of his stare. “I already do.”

  From someone far away came an earth-splitting crack. The shatter of glass.

  Phil’s body stepped between me and the wall. He jerked. Grunted. His face contorted with surprise as he whispered, “Ow.”

  “What—?” I had to raise my arms before he could tip forward and collapse me. “Oh my God!” Nevertheless, I fell to my knees under his weight.

  His breath hissed through his teeth. “Edy?”

  “What’s wrong? Phil! What is it?” I settled him on his knees and immediately noticed the drool of red dripping onto the floor between us. “Oh God, you’re bleeding.”

  Every one of his gasping breaths sounded surprised. “It…It hurts?”

  “It’s okay.” He leaned more heavily against my shoulders. “I’m going to lay you down, alright? Can you do that for me?”

  He nodded wordlessly, collapsing against the concrete.

  I almost wished he’d stayed on his knees. Sprawled out on his back, I could see the front of his shirt in all its glory, and the wet mark marring it. “Oh God.” I moved to cover my mouth but the palms of both hands ran red with his blood.

  “Edy?”

  Swallowing back the nausea, I moved his shirt aside and had to force myself not to flinch away from the many holes resulted from the buckshot piercing his middle. Phil stared at my face. I didn’t want him to know how bad it looked.

  “You’re okay,” I swore, flattening my palms over the wound.

  Phil convulsed, hips bucking upward into my hands, then rolling away. His pained scream rebounded against the glass walls.

  “No, no, I know it hurts!” I said, reaffirming the pressure against his middle. “Just lay back, Phil. I’m going to fix you. Okay? Just don’t move.”

  My own being throbbed at his pain. My body wished to recoil from the touch of his bare flesh. Phil’s arm swept out, throwing my arm away from him. “No!”

  I clenched my fists. “Then we have to go to the hospital. We have to go now.” I didn’t wait for a response before I forced my hands under his back and hauled him upright. An involuntary cry erupted from Phil. “It’s okay, honey, we’re going to get you help. I promise we’re going to get help.”

  At least, we would if I could get him off the ground, but I wasn’t getting anywhere without Phil’s help.

  “Phil, can you stand?”

  He struggled upward, sliding on his own blood, but, with my help, he stood against my side.

  “That’s good, that’s real good, Phil, just follow me to the door. I’ll grab the car keys and we’ll be at the hospital really soon.” His face looked pale already. I shifted him to one arm, falling against the glass door so it would slide open. Staggering across the room, I collapsed against the counter. “Where—where the hell are the keys?” I growled.

  A single glance through the window proved there wasn’t a car, either. Not even the store truck. Instead, there was a crowd…no, an angry mob, shrieking at my shop like it had wronged them.

  Zach’s followers, who’d followed me home.

  I slammed my fist into the register. “Damn it!”

  “Eden?” Phil moaned.

  “No, don’t worry. I’m going to get you there. Even if we have to walk the whole way!” The blood flowed more heavily through his clothes. “We’ll get there.”

  The moment we passed through the front door, the sound of screaming breached the store like a popped balloon. They stood in every direction, their sheer numbers making them dense. “Move!” I shouted, diving into the crowd. “Get out of the way!”

  The sudden movement sent Phil falling back to the ground with a yelp. I struggled to reclaim my grip on him and our dance to bend him over my shoulder began anew. All the while, the crowd pressed in on us.

  “Please, move,” I begged.

  They only shouted back at me, spitting obscenities or damning me to hell.

  I dragged Phil across the pavement, unable to lift him. When that, too, didn’t work, I settled on holding him close so he wouldn’t feel their hands reach for us.

  His eyes rolled into his head. “Eden? I can’t see you.”

  I doubted he even knew where he was. “I’ve got you.” My voice shook. “Don’t you worry one bit, Phillip. I’ll protect you.”

  From somewhere across the mob, a male voice shouted. “Shoot again! Shoot the blasphemer!”

  My breath caught in my throat. I didn’t know which was worse: Phil being shot, or the fact that the bullet had been meant for me. The rise of heat in my throat made my voice strong. “I will protect you, Phil.”

  “Eden?” he whimpered. “I can’t see.”

  My hair jerked backwards in someone’s grip. “Ow!” I pulled in the opposite direction, but another person in the congregation yanked at Phil’s foot. “Let go! Move.”

  It seemed my pleas only made things worse. People grabbed for us in every direction, demanding my death, throwing themselves in front of us. My exhales came more harshly with the growing frustration. “Get out of my way!”

  My head spun. The mass amount of people moving around me all blended into a sea of grey. Their voices faded away to a dull buzzing in my ears. I focused on the rise and fall of Phil’s chest to stay in the present, counting every second that he remained alive and in my arms.

  A bare hand stuck my face, filling me with the potent hate of a hundred angry townspeople. My ears rang from the impact and my skin stung. Beneath me, Phil whispered my name, breaths growing shallow. “Edy.”

  Sound came back all at once.

  “Get out of my way!” Orange light flared, heat exploded in my face, and the people assembled around us dispersed with screams: some of pain, some of fear. An opening split the crowd, wide enough that I could take off easily between them.

  Fueled with the essence of whoever had dared to touch me, I lifted Phil into my arms with ease.

  Strangers rolled across the ground, their clothes lit up by flames. At the furthest reaches of the parking lot, the van that had carried me a
nd Zach to dinner a lifetime ago now idled with a single passenger. The cigarette he’d been smoking fell to the ground, only barely used.

  His jaw slackened. “You…You’re the devil!”

  I followed his gaze out across the parking lot, at the people whose faces ranged from terrified to furious to charred and my rage cooled. Regret washed in.

  What had I done?

  Had my default really become to hurt and steal and punish? My stomach roiled with nausea. It had been like second nature to suck the life from whatever—whoever— stood closest. It had never occurred to me before and yet, I feared it hid right beneath the surface of my skin.

  I was a monster. A Gregory.

  A Zach.

  “The devil wants your keys.”

  He handed them over, wasting no time in throwing himself as far from me as he could get. Folding Phil into the passenger’s seat, I rounded the van and got out of that parking lot faster than if Lucifer himself had come to chase me.

  “Eden? What’s happening?”

  I chewed on my lip. He wouldn’t have approved of my methods, even in pursuit of life-saving treatment, but I didn’t feel bad. I felt…great. The hate sustained me. It gave me something else to feel besides the agony. “I’m getting you help.”

  Phil lost consciousness before we made it to the hospital. As I walked him into the ER, the pain with every step roused him only slightly.

  “Help! Please, I need help.”

  For a while, there was nothing but chaos. I handed him off to doctors on a gurney. Faces swirled around me, all unrecognizable and stern. They shouted to one another, spitting phrases I didn’t listen to, sprinkled with Phil’s name.

  I trailed after them while they worked, leaning over his wounds, performing CPR, shocking him with the defibrillator. All the while, I eyed the staff around the room, wondering which of them would be my unwitting donor should this go south.

  No, no, no, what was wrong with me? It would be wrong to trade one life for another’s, even if it was Phil’s at stake. Phil who mattered more than anyone in the world. My Phil.

  Even now, while he still lived and breathed, I knew I wouldn’t be able to stop myself.

  “Losing him,” the doctor muttered, preparing the defibrillator for another shock.