Dark Touch

by Elle Lewis

  He leaned forward. “Why? What makes you so sure?”

  I hesitated. What made me so sure was the strange connection that I shared with Darrow. It was easy to rule out all human beliefs because I could feel he was more than that. Whatever Darrow was, it went beyond the religious history on this planet.

  “Sloan,” James said with exasperation. “Just say it.”

  “It’s going to sound crazy,” I said sternly.

  “At this point, are you really worried about that?” he asked with a crooked smirk.

  I sighed. “Okay.”

  I sat up a little straighter and leaned forward. I really didn’t want anyone over hearing this. James leaned in closer, the smile gone, his face intent on what I was about to say.

  “The reason I’m sure,” I said quietly, “Is because, somehow, the dreams are giving me information about him.”

  “What kind of information?” His eyebrows furrowed in concentration.

  I looked down at the table while I explained. “His age for one thing. It was as if I could feel it, the immensity of it filled my mind. It was overpowering…and scary as hell.”

  “How old is he?” James asked.

  I looked up and met his eyes. “There isn’t a number. If I had to pick a word, I would say eons.”

  His eyes widened. I was relieved that he did not seem freaked out.

  “What else?” James asked.

  I quickly decided to omit the fact that I knew Darrow’s actual name. Something about saying it out loud felt ominous, as if he might show up. Instead I said, “There were images of space.”

  “Space?”

  I nodded. “Huge stretches of space. Stars, galaxies...it was crazy…the distance, the total black emptiness of it.”

  “I knew it…fucking E.T.,” said James.

  I rubbed my temples. “Yeah well, I don’t think a bag of Reeses’s Pieces is going to help me. James, I think he is going to come for me again, soon.” I pictured Darrow, his eyes, his unbridled evil. Cold spread across my skin and I shivered.

  “Sloan, it’s going to be okay.”

  Up until now, I had been doing a decent job of keeping my panic in check. But for some reason, it all hit me in that moment, rearing its head with a vengeance. “How is it going to be okay? What am I going to do when he shows up again? God, he is going to kill me.” The violence of the last dream poured into my head and I could not stop my hands from shaking.

  James reached his hand out, as if he were going to lay it on top of mine. At the last minute, he pulled back. “Do you want to take a break? Are you hungry? We could grab dinner.”

  He sounded far away. All I could think about was how it was really going to feel when Darrow got a hold of me. There would be no dream to mask the pain, no waking up in my bedroom. It would be real. All of it. My chest felt tight and I suddenly couldn’t seem to get enough air.

  James leaned forward, gently gripped my chin, and made me look at him. “Sloan grab your stuff. We’re leaving.” His voice was stern but gentle.

  “Okay,” I said.

  I slung my purse over my shoulder and stood, my knees shaky. James quickly piled the journals into the green backpack, pulled on his jacket and then slung the pack over his shoulder.

  He grabbed my hand, but waited a moment before walking out, looking at me for approval. I tightened my fingers around his, letting him know the contact was okay. I followed him out the door, incredibly grateful for his sudden presence in my life.

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  GREEN TEA

  Thankfully, it was not raining, yet. Plump grey clouds rolled across sky, an omen of the heavy rain to come. A frigid breeze chased the clouds through the air. I found the cold wind bracing. It helped to quell my fear.

  James and I didn’t talk. He held onto my hand, leading me through the busy city. I followed him, not paying attention to where we were going. I used the time to get a handle on my emotions. I knew I had been on the verge of a very bad panic attack. As I walked beside James, I concentrated on emptying my mind, not allowing those thoughts and fears to reenter.

  While I knew that I was certainly entitled to a glorified freak out, I did not want to lose control of myself. The circumstances were terrifying, yes, but I could handle it. I took in several deep breaths and let them out slowly through my lips, repeating the sentence in my mind. You can handle it. You can handle it. James’ hand was solid and reassuring. It felt like a strong line, tethering me to a reality that still made sense.

  James stopped, and I looked up. We stood in front of a Japanese restaurant called Boom Noodle.

  He looked down at me. “Is this okay?”

  I nodded.

  We stepped inside. A wave of delicious smells met my nose. Basil. Lemongrass. Hot rice. My stomach grumbled in response. The restaurant was dimly lit and beautifully decorated. The walls were a soothing deep green. Small black lights hung above bamboo tables. They looked like suspended stars, illuminating the wood.

  The hostess smiled at us. “How many?”

  “Two please,” James responded.

  She led us to a small table in a back corner. It was private and faced the restaurant, allowing me to see the front doors. James finally let go of my hand. He pulled out a chair for me and sat down.

  The waitress dropped two menus onto the table and then bustled off. I settled into my chair determined not to think about Darrow or the golden warrior. I needed a break. At some point, something had to give. Everything inside of me craved a moment away from it all, a small sliver of normalcy.

  I examined the menu. Everything looked incredible. I decided on the spicy beef udon, hoping that my stomach would tolerate it.

  “I think you should order some hot green tea,” James said over his menu.

  “Why?”

  He grinned. “Trust me,” he said, without looking up.

  A waiter came to the table to introduce himself and take our drink orders. James ordered hot sake. The waiter carded him and then asked to see my I.D.

  “She won’t be drinking,” James said.

  I gave the waiter a polite smile. “I’ll just have some hot green tea, please.”

  “I’ll be right back,” the waiter said happily, then hurried off, disappearing behind the kitchen doors.

  “What are you up to? Why did you have me order green tea?”

  “When do you turn 21?” James asked.

  “I just turned twenty in August, so…ten months?”

  He put his menu down. “Ten months is a long time to sneak you drinks. That’s fine, I’m up to the challenge.”

  “That’s extremely dishonest,” I said.

  “You feel that way now. But soon, you will come to the dark side.”

  “Are you one of those geeky guys? Into Star Wars?” I asked.

  “Who’s the geek if you understood the reference? Besides, you’re the one that dropped an X-Files line today,” said James.

  “You mentioned E.T.!” I argued.

  James leaned forward, his eyes full of humor. “Which was then followed by another comment from you about Reece’s Pieces.”

  I chewed on my lip, trying not to laugh.

  “I think we should just confess to each other that we are both geeks,” James said. “Why hide it?”

  At that moment the waiter set our drinks on the table. The hot sake came in a black bottle, with a matching black cup. The green tea was in a black iron kettle, also with a matching black cup. I examined the identical cups. Genius.

  We placed our orders. The waiter gathered up the menus and wa
s off again. As soon as he was gone, James grabbed my black tea cup and filled it with sake, then filled his own cup.

  I smiled and took a long sip. The hot rice alcohol warmed my empty stomach.

  “That was a pretty good idea,” I said.

  “I have them from time to time.” James grinned and then took a sip of his sake. “How are you holding up?”

  “I feel better. Thank you for the break.”

  “You’re welcome,” he said.

  I regarded James quietly for a few moments as I drained the last of the sake. I felt extremely curious about him. There was so much I did not know about the man sitting across from me.

  “You look serious all of a sudden,” he said. “What’s on your mind?”

  “Why are you helping me?” I prodded gently. “I’m not trying to be rude, I’m just…curious. Considering everything you have experienced, I would expect you to run in the opposite direction of all this.”

  “It’s an understandable question.” James refilled both of our cups. “Do you remember when we were at the pub, and I told you that I saw two people killed by them?”

  “Yes.”

  His expression became serious. “I didn’t know the guy in the alleyway. He was a stranger and I witnessed his death, but…” His eyebrows knitted together. Sadness appeared on every line of his face. “I knew the second person. Her name was Elody.”

  Fuck. I passionately regretted asking. “James, we don’t have to talk about this. I’m sorry.”

  He shook his head slightly, “I don’t mind telling you about it. Because I want you to understand.” He looked down at the table for a few seconds, gathering his thoughts, and then met my eyes, “I was seventeen, she was sixteen. We were kids but…I loved her. One night, I left her at a city park while I went to find food and when I came back, it was too late. I saw one of them hunched over her. He had her wrist, she was screaming. I ran to her, but I didn’t make it in time.” He drank the rest of his sake, in one large gulp. “You remind me of her a little bit. Elody had this spirit about her, a fight for life. She never took anyone’s shit.” He paused for a second, passion filling his light brown eyes. “I don’t want to be too late this time, Sloan.”

  My throat tightened, and I felt moisture spring to my eyes. I emptied my cup, swallowing the rest of the hot liquor. “We are going to need more sake.”

  He picked up the empty sake bottle. “Are you saying that we need a bigger boat?”

  I smiled. “Yeah, Brody, a much bigger boat.”

  “What about you? How did you end up in Seattle?” asked James.

  Even though he had just shared something personal, I felt instantly uncomfortable.

  “You don’t have to talk about it,” he said quietly. “I understand.”

  “It’s not something I typically share. Old habits die hard, I guess,” I responded.

  His hand was a few inches from mine on top of the table. I felt a sharp desire to touch him. As if he could read my thoughts, James ran his thumb across the top of my hand.

  “Tell me another night,” he said.

  “Alright.” I felt pleased that there would be other nights.

  At that moment the food came, interrupting the electric charge in the air. We reluctantly drew away from each other and picked up our chopsticks. The food was delicious. James ordered another bottle of sake, and we kept the conversation light for the rest of the meal. I told him about Millie and Donovan and art class with Professor Imperial. James told me about working on a fishing boat, and what it was like to be at sea for weeks at a time. The way he talked about the sea was almost poetic. He described the color of the water in such detail I felt like I could paint it just by listening to his words.

  Sooner than I wanted, our plates and cups were empty. James insisted on taking care of the bill. I tried to argue but he was adamant. I gave in.

  “The next one is on me,” I said as we walked towards the exit. He let me go first, his fingertips on the small of my back.

  *

  The night had turned extremely cold. A steady rain fell from a dark sky, the rapid droplets tinkling loudly on the street. James opened his backpack and pulled out a small umbrella. He opened it, shielding us from the rain. We walked side by side, our shoulders nearly touching.

  "Thanks," I said. "I really should carry an umbrella."

  "That's rule number one about living in Seattle," James said. He smirked. "That and water proof shoes. "

  I grinned. We walked in silence for a few minutes. My break was over, and my thoughts returned to my overwhelming predicament. I would be home soon, facing another night alone. I was so afraid to sleep. Darrow would be waiting for me in the antechamber.

  "The more I think about it, the more I feel confident that we stumbled on the truth. That no one in the world knows what they are," I said. “But I can't help but conclude that...the golden warrior and the man with the black eyes are most likely the same type of being."

  "I've never seen the other ones,” he said. “But, yeah, it makes sense. They both have huge wings. Carry similar weapons."

  "Do you think the golden one is good?” I asked. “Maybe they are opposites of each other. Light vs. Darkness."

  "It’s possible,” he said.

  "If he is in fact guarding me, it has to mean that he’s good, right? It seemed like he was helping me that day in the gardens. But who knows, he could just be fighting with the other one, for possession of my soul or some shit."

  "I don't know, Sloan. I feel like there is no way that you and I can fully understand their intentions. What motivates them. Why they do what they do. They aren't human."

  I nodded, falling silent.

  By the time we walked back to Café Presse, my chest was feeling tight again. The fear that I had tucked away was now crawling to get out. You can handle it.

  We stood in front of my white Jeep.

  "Are you going to be okay tonight?" he asked.

  I shrugged. "I mean, I kind of have to be."

  "You could stay with me," said James.

  I smirked. "That's forward."

  That crooked grin appeared on his face again. I was beginning to recognize it. "No, no, no. I have a sailboat. You can stay at my place, I can sleep on the boat."

  “You have a boat?” I asked.

  “Don’t change the subject.”

  I sighed. "I can't ask you to do that."

  "You are underestimating how nice my boat is,” said James.

  I held up my hands in fake surrender. "No offense to your boat." I stuffed my hands back into my pockets. "But really, I can't accept. But…thank you."

  His eyes filled with genuine concern. “I don’t like the idea of you being alone.”

  “It’s inevitable,” I said.

  He looked at me for a few minutes and then finally asked, “Will you call me tomorrow?”

  “I will,” I said.

  “Okay then. Goodnight, Sloan.”

  “Night.”

  He turned and left. I watched as he walked towards a white pickup truck that was parked a few spaces behind my jeep.

  I got into my car and put the keys in the ignition. I didn’t know what to think about first. I realized I was gripping the steering wheel so hard that my knuckles turned white. You can handle it. I looked at the night sky through my front windshield, not quite ready to begin the drive home. There was one star shining brightly through the darkness.

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  PLOTS

  The drive home was a blur of narrow mountain roads that wound through green hills and for
ests. Orange and red leaves mingled within the green, like tiny fires kindled among the foliage. My anxiety doubled with each mile. Why the hell had I chosen to live somewhere so damn isolated? As I drove deeper into the mountains I regretted turning down James’ offer.

  I pulled into my driveway and cut the engine. I sat there for a few moments, staring at my house. It was like a dormant grey monster, ready to gobble me up as soon as my eyes closed. My sanctuary had turned into something sinister. It was the place that I slept, the place that I dreamed, the place where I was tormented at night.

  “Goddammit!” I got out of the car and slammed the door. I hated that these things—whatever they were—had been able to bring fear back into my life.

  Instead of walking to the front door, I stood in my front yard and looked up at the roof.

  “If you’re up there, I just want to say FUCK YOU! What the hell do you want? If you are protecting me, then show yourselves! And if not, then go find someone else to torment! Dumb-ass-winged-mother-fucking-bastards!” I waited for a second, as if I expected an answering voice. All I heard was the cherry tree, swaying in the night. “Ugh!”

  I stomped to my front door and unlocked it. Once inside I undressed quickly, putting on a light blue long-sleeved shirt and black sweats. I turned on all the lights and then began pacing in my small living room, on edge. My heart hammered powerfully in my chest, the burning pain beneath my skin prickly and hot.

  I needed to calm down. Although, once the anger passed fear would take its place. Frustrated and not knowing what else to do with myself, I went into the garage. I shuffled through my CD’s, selecting Our Endless Numbered Days, by Iron & Wine. They were a folk band with a lot of acoustic guitar and chill vocals.

  My glass mural project was lying on top of an old white blanket, the sharp brightly colored pieces of broken glass glinting against the material. I stared at it for a minute and then settled down next to the blanket. I picked up a red shard of glass. It was the color of blood, a deep, rich, red. I turned it over a few times in my hand, watching the light play across its surface. I closed my eyes for a second, letting my breath out slowly, and then opened them again. Colors filled my vision, all the broken pieces beautiful as they lay side by side. I selected another piece, a royal blue, and paired it with the red shard in my hand. It fit perfectly.