Mayhem

by Estelle Laure

  “Have you ever heard of the sluagh?” she asks.

  “Sounds like something you get stuck in your throat.”

  “It does, but it’s not. I hadn’t heard of them either, of course. Some obscure Celtic creature. They were thought to have been rejected by both heaven and hell. Some myth has them as fairies, another as ghosts. I don’t think I’m either, do you?”

  I shake my head.

  “But there are similarities. For instance, lore has it that they would take the form of birds and swarm on the nearly dead, that they would suck their souls from their bodies.” She indicates the bird on her shoulder. “I don’t turn into a bird, but these guys are sure around in large number, and they stick close by us.”

  The necklaces she and Roxy wear.

  “All I know is the crows are ours,” Elle says. “Or we’re theirs.”

  Neve was a bird in the cave, or very nearly. All around the house, crows. Crows hold grudges; they sense fear. My dream. The pecking. The birds always hanging around on the fence and in the trees.

  “There’s something to it. Every myth has a kernel of truth. So that made me sit up and take notice, and then there’s the fact that the sluagh fed on the souls of the nearly dead. Although I don’t think it’s what they meant in the myth, people who exist on this earth preying on people who are just trying to cope with being on this planet are empty inside. They are nearly dead. And we do … relieve them of their souls, I suppose.”

  “You think there are more people who are like this?” I manage. “On earth, I mean?”

  “I don’t know,” she says matter-of-factly. “At first I thought so, of course. Where there’s one or five there have to be many. But we’re not ourselves away from Santa Maria. We hurt. We lose the sight. I’ve done some traveling, tried to see some things, but I’ve found being away from Santa Maria difficult. And often not worth it.” She smiles. “I spent some time in a commune in Massachussetts in the sixties. It was painful and eventually boring, too. After a while I gave up and watched the occasional travel video instead.”

  “So you never came to Taylor.”

  “Yeah,” she says. “I guess that’s part of it, although I would have parted the seas to get to your mom at one point. But she was so adamant about all of it. She didn’t want me around. Anyway, your mother and I didn’t exactly end on a good note, though we came to a place where we could talk sometimes after our parents passed away.”

  “And that’s why Roxy left?”

  “It’s not quite that simple.”

  I wait.

  “When you leave Santa Maria and you have had the water, you get sick. Sometimes very sick. It depends on the person.”

  “That’s why Jason says he can’t leave.”

  Elle brushes the crow off her shoulder, and he comes and settles on mine. I’m afraid at first because he’s close enough to peck an eye and I’m not totally over my dream, but once he’s comfortable it’s no big deal.

  “Roxy must have been terribly ill by the time you got to Texas,” Elle says. “It doesn’t take long.”

  “Roxy has been sick my whole life. Not bad, but she’s had a bellyache since I was little.”

  “And not since she’s been back, right?”

  “That’s true, I guess. But seems like she’s sick in other ways.”

  Because of the drugs.

  We’re quiet a second. “The family is buried over there.” We walk to a small hill. “Everyone is here. Julianna and Lawrence, Billie and Thomas, Stitcher and my father, Tobias.”

  Their tombstones are all in pairs. I feel dizzy, like I’m caught in a giant, spinning machine.

  “Do you have a true love?” I ask, remembering what Roxy said about each Brayburn only having one.

  “I do,” she says. “Did. Her name is Melissa.” She checks me for a reaction. “Her family was opposed, though we did have two beautiful years up here after my parents were gone. Then she left. The Brayburn line is neat and clean as a whistle. I’m a deviation from the plan, you see? Each woman has one girl child and one love. But my mother had twins and messed everything up, and then Roxy up and left with the heir.”

  She wipes the dead leaves off her mother’s grave.

  “It’s all right. Don’t feel sorry for me. I know who I am. When I was your age I did as much research as I could. I found out that a lot of people out there believe there are six or seven points on the planet where the energy is higher and more intense than other places, and this is one of them.” She sighs and looks around. “Assholes and broken souls are drawn to this place like hummingbirds to sweet water. The kids finding the cave is proof to me that if it’s not us taking it on, it’ll be someone else, and who knows what kind of person that would be. I don’t think that’s a risk I want to take. I’d rather be in charge, wouldn’t you? And here we are, me and you. And you’re back. You’re so different than Nevie. She was running all over trying to test it, asking me so many questions I could hardly manage. She is more like your mom was. I had to stop her from wreaking vengeance on everyone at once.”

  I flush.

  “It’s good to be an innocent,” Elle says. “Gives you restraint.”

  How do I tell her I don’t want to be an innocent anymore?

  Innocents get hit. I want to hit back.

  TWENTY-FOUR

  TRAINING

  Jason, Kidd, Neve, and I are lined up at the edge of the property. It’s midnight. Kidd is jumping up and down and looking ahead. Elle stands beside us, arms crossed in front of her, wearing a serious look.

  “Welcome to Stalking Your Prey 101,” Neve says.

  “Murder humor,” Jason drawls. “Love it.”

  “Please take this seriously. We have to speed up the plan. Here’s what we know about our Sand Snatcher, or at least what the profiler thinks, according to what Rebecca shared with me. He’s likely a psychopath, not legally insane, knows the difference between right and wrong but is driven to hurt. He will have no lack of intelligence, no brain damage, no frank psychosis.” Elle seems to be thinking. “He is probably attractive, charming, and between twenty-five and thirty-five.”

  “That’s everyone here, practically,” Neve says.

  “Exactly,” she says. “So chop-chop.”

  Neve makes stabbing motions behind Elle.

  “Okay, my experienced ones, you know how this works. The point of this exercise is what?” Elle says.

  “To win,” Neve says, coming back to attention.

  “Not exactly.” Elle walks down the line.

  “Kidd?”

  “It’s to learn to see where you want to go and just go there.”

  “Yes!” Elle says. “Mayhem, think about the tree on the far side of the property by the bench and go. I don’t want you to think about your legs or moving. You just think about that tree as a destination.” She comes up behind me.

  “But I can’t see.” I hate the sound of my voice, timid and sweet. I want to hit back. I want to hit back.

  “You aren’t seeing with your eyes, May. You’re knowing with your body. Your eyes are only a small part of your vision. If you let the rest of your body see as well, it will,” Elle says. “Think about the tree’s leaves. Ask it to let you come to it. Listen.”

  My mind is full of questions and other noise; Jason and what may or may not be. My mother. She has been gone to Marcy’s since this morning and hasn’t come back, and she’s taken all the pill bottles with her and even the mini white-wine bottles she keeps around in her underwear drawer. Then come thoughts of my father and what it must be like to fall that way. And then that silence blankets me again, thick and full.

  “Good,” Elle croons. “That’s it.”

  The trees whisper to me and I search out just the right one, with the plums just beginning to make their way to its branches. I hear it. And then, the birds. We’re here, they seem to say. Come find us.

  “This is taking forever,” Neve complains loudly. “Hopefully you won’t be this slow when it’s real.”
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br />   It almost breaks my concentration, but the line between myself and the birds in the tree is strong and it holds.

  “Go,” Elle says quietly.

  I let myself be taken. Trees and grass and tomatoes and wildflowers whiz past me. I am sharply aware of Jason on one side and Neve on the other. I see their legs moving in a blur, and then Kidd blazes past me, hair flying in the wind she’s making as she rips through the tall grass, then past the house. I see the tree coming and I think to stop, and I am face to face with its bark, arms out, a millimeter away from smashing into it.

  I freeze where I am.

  “You almost pancaked yourself,” Neve says.

  My arms are out to the side and I am suspended in midair. With each intake of breath my chest meets the tree. That was close. I look up to find Neve and Jason and Kidd perched on branches that should be too weak to hold their weight. The crows sit between them, watching. They tut and squawk.

  “You okay?” Jason says.

  “I’m fine.” I take a step back, fully land on the ground. And I am okay. I’m not winded or anything, just have a thumping heart. Still, if I had hit the tree going as fast as I must have been, my insides would be on the outside right now.

  “Isn’t it so cool?” Kidd says.

  “So cool.”

  Elle materializes with sparkling eyes. “That’s how you speed in the dark. I knew you’d be a natural. Now”—she claps her hands—“again.”

  We practice like a hundred times, running all over the property to different destinations until I can think about a specific purple flower and get to it in half a second. If I let the scared human part take over, it doesn’t work. But I learn if I believe I’m invincible, that’s what will happen. Elle points out that Kidd is better at everything than all of us, because she is youngest and her pathways are less formed and more open to suggestion. She doesn’t necessarily believe the world is a single way, so for her anything is possible. For us, we have to fight the part that tells us this can’t be true, that this can’t be happening.

  Elle is making everyone do it. Jason is good, but he’s tolerating, not enjoying, and Neve seems bored. She’s perfect at everything, smooth and skilled as she lands her targets. She doesn’t sweat. Her breathing doesn’t change.

  “Wait till you get the real thing,” she says. “That’s where it all happens.”

  I am sopping wet with sweat and finally exhausted when Elle gives us our last set of instructions. Neve and Jason and Kidd will camouflage themselves somewhere on the property and I will find them.

  My stomach is grumbling and it’s nearly morning and weakness is setting in, but Elle insists. This is the most important part, being able to find someone who doesn’t want to be found in the dark. That is where people prey on others. It’s where they hide and wait for the unsuspecting to ignite their interest and desire. And when you are the one chasing after that desire, hunting the hunter, you have to be extra on your game because their senses are on high alert. Those people are basically dead, Elle reiterates, except when they are about to hurt someone. That’s what brings them to life, fulfills them.

  Once they’re all hiding, Elle tells me, “I know you’re tired and don’t want to do any more. This is exactly when you should. You’re getting weaker. The sun is about to rise.”

  I want to eat and drink and sleep.

  “Buck up. Go find them. Don’t think. Take yourself there.” Elle pats my cheek. “I’ll go make you some food for when you’re done.”

  It’s still dark, but the sky is lightening some.

  The farm is fifty acres, and they could be anywhere. I flop down onto the porch. The only reason they aren’t in bed themselves is because of me, or I would curl up and pass out right here. I think of Kidd, of her moaning as she sleeps, of her penchant for sugar and the way she ran ahead of me, lithe and serious, of her contours against the sky, a shadow set loose. And then I feel her. I perk up. She’s lying somewhere. Not far. She’s a pinprick, but she’s there. I stand, let my body go, and in a minute I’m with her, hands on her back. She’s fallen asleep, white curls against the dirt, and so I pick her up and take her back to the house, into her bed. Elle is putting finishing touches on a salad, and a pot of rice steams on the stove.

  “Very nice,” she says, as she lays out avocadoes over lettuce and pumpkin seeds and cucumbers. She makes a motion toward the door.

  “Now?” I say.

  “Bring them home, May.”

  I focus on Neve. She’s darkness, but a bouncing kind, never still. She is corsets and lace and leather and hair and red lips and bangs. She’s hurt and loyalty and selfishness and manipulation. In a second, I have her. I know where she is and I will my body to her. I go outside. Exhausted. Stomach rumbling. And so, so thirsty. When I appear in front of her, she’s in a tree, swinging her legs below her. She claps and bounds to the ground, then takes a knee.

  “I bow before thee, Mayhem Brayburn of the Brayburn Clan, Feeler of Feelings, Holder of the Elusive Brayburn Blood.”

  I pull her to her feet.

  “No, seriously,” she says, “it took me weeks to do all this, and it’s taken you one night. It’s impressive.”

  “Thanks,” I say.

  “Anyway, you found me.” She yawns. “Shall we to bed?”

  I hesitate, eyes flickering further into the orchard.

  “Ah,” she says, grinning knowingly, “saved the best for last.”

  “I didn’t mean to.”

  “But you like him, right? He gives you goosebumps in all the right places. He makes you feel funny.” She is behind me now, weaving. “He pushes all your buttons. And the way he ignores you sometimes just makes you all steamy inside. All you want is to go for walks in the park and share ice-cream cones.” She claps her hands so I jump. “You want him to win you a big ol’ teddy bear from the county fair,” she twangs.

  Her words land and ripple. “I don’t know what I want.”

  She brushes herself off. “Listen, here’s a piece of free advice from me to you. I know I’m a bitch sometimes, but at least I’m honest. Stop telling yourself lies, because this little-miss-demure tortured thing is a bunch of bullshit. You know what you want. I think you always know what you want. So go get it and don’t apologize for it. No one is going to come beat the shit out of you for having desires and ambition. He can’t anymore, get it? That means it’s all you. Your mistakes and your victories.” She releases me. Looks upward. “Now get out of my face. Jason’s waiting for you.”

  The night goes still. There is no nattering. There are no cicadas. There is only Neve and me. I want to ask her if she loves Jason or at least what’s between them. I’ve been wanting to ask this since the first day, her head leaned on his shoulder. The unbelievable jealousy I felt for the ease between them, even then.

  Neve hugs me so our bodies are tight to each other. Her breath is shallow as she takes my cheeks in her hands and drops her forehead in close to mine. “Oh, Mayhem, I have feelings for everyone.” She pecks me on the lips. And then she’s gone. I touch my mouth.

  When I search for the house I can see lights off to the east, and they’re far away. Neve has unnerved me. I try to focus on Jason, but the scattered thoughts are back. My mother. She’s at Marcy’s? What are they doing? What is she planning? Is she going to show up in the morning and try to take me away? Does she want to go back to Lyle? Where is Jason I am hungry I am lost I don’t know who I am I am never going to find him and I won’t be any good andthesandsnatchersandsnatchersandsnatcher.

  A man. Brown hair. In his twenties. Arm around a girl. He’s not far from here now. She smells like cheap perfume, sharp, sour at the edges. He leans in and sniffs. The smell makes him hungry. He saw a girl before on the beach. They’re all so stupid they don’t even notice him there, watching. When he breathes in, it is with all his unsatisfied desire. He’ll have to fake it tonight. He has studied normal, has learned how to bend his mouth up to smile, how to get just the right amount of moisture in his eyes to approxi
mate empathy, and how to soften his features in order to imply he’s capable of love. And while he does what he has to so he can survive, he lives on his memories, so many lovely memories that carry him through. He is up high. He is up high. Up. A girl in his hands, her neck.

  Hiding in plain sight.

  My eyes open. I can hardly breathe and I bend over as my mouth fills with water. Nothing comes out. My stomach is empty. I’m alone and there’s no one to help me. Birds land nearby and watch.

  Jason.

  Jason will help.

  I need to get to him. He has ancient eyes. He has long muscles. He chooses his words carefully. He seems calm, but he’s not. Everything in him is happening all the time. He is split. He doesn’t know what’s the right thing to do. He doesn’t want to kill. He wants to kill everyone. His hand. His fingers between mine.

  And I’m there. In a flutter of feathers I find him.

  He’s almost to the house, his jeans loose around him, torso long, and I am just next to him. He stops. “I heard you coming,” he says. He sprays the necklace into his mouth and nothing comes out. Empty.

  “Here you go.” I give him some of mine, realizing I haven’t wanted any all night.

  “Thanks.” He winces. “I wish I didn’t have to.”

  “I know,” I say.

  The sun is coming up around us, the urge to sleep powerful, and I want to explain what happened before I found him, but my legs are giving out and the world is going crooked.

  With Neve’s words echoing in my ear, I stand on my toes and let my lips touch his. He doesn’t respond—not a muscle moves. His eyes don’t close.

  “Sorry.” I pull back and start to turn.

  “Don’t say sorry,” he says. “I’ve been trying not to do that for days. I wanted to make sure I was invited.”

  “You are.” I let my fingers wrap through the hair at the nape of his neck and press my body against his. We kiss, and bark scratches at my back. He runs his hands over my hips and I light up. When we come apart, he’s searching my face. He brushes my hair back with one hand.

  I’m pretty sure my entire chest is about to burst open and have little happiness babies all over the place, but his brows suddenly knit together, a look I’m beginning to recognize as guilt and I am afraid. He is such a good thing. I don’t know if good things can stay for me. I am too nervous to ask him outright.