by J M Thomas
Then they built a fire under his feet.
I nearly gagged when I read that line, in black and white, the simple words so cold and unfeeling against the heat and agony they portrayed.
The boy’s screams had brought unlikely aid. Where the boy was purportedly only a speaker, the man who’d shown up wearing a motorcycle helmet was a full-on battle mage. Soon, a hundred glowing spirits with angry, hollow eyes converged on the four boys. The man in the helmet reportedly sank to his knees and threw his hands in the air, arms trembling as blood climbed up his hands, then dripped slowly into the sky.
The spirits had snuffed the fire, left the boys in a crumpled, broken pile, then dissipated like smoke the second the man had slammed his palms to the ground. He’d stumbled away, clearly in considerable pain, then the motorcycle roared off. According to local police, not one drop of his blood was ever found on the scene, nor was there ever an arrest.
I got a good look at the victim’s name, then dropped my phone onto my lap in shock.
The boy, who suffered third degree burns on his feet and legs, was Cornelius “Neil” E. McGrady. CEMcG, the speaker who preferred to live away from anyone who could hurt him again. The man who preferred the company of cold, stiff, powerless corpses to fellowship with the living who’d betrayed him so badly. Who’d stopped going by Neil, instead...
“Ethan,” I whispered, tears in my eyes. I hooked the phone to the charger on the wall, curling up in a little ball. I wondered how I’d gotten myself in the dead center of all this mess. So that’s why he walks so stiffly, why he’s so guarded…
Tears leaked out, and I let a silent sob wrack me for him, then one for my own part in dredging up Ethan’s pain. Ordinary Celeste, boring little Celeste, with nothing but ambition and a loan from her parents. Now the silly little problems I’d left behind at home felt ridiculous by comparison to the ones I’d stumbled across in this cruel new world.
“‘At’s the one. You know ‘im?” Aeron’s voice wavered between an accusation and a question.
I flung the blanket off my head. He stood looming, staring out the window, one elbow on the window frame and the opposite fist clenched at his side. Slowly, quietly, I rose and stepped up close.
Taking his callused, scarred hand in both of mine, I spoke softly. “The boy you saved grew up to become a forensics expert. He goes by Ethan McGrady now, and works in the police morgue downtown. He loves…”
I swallowed hard, squeezing Aeron’s hand as it slowly relaxed in mine. “He loves his clipboard of procedural forms, probably because they’re proof that his gift is accepted. He is accepted.”
Aeron closed his eyes, his head tilting back a fraction as he took in my words.
“I don’t know what it’s like to kill somebody and wish you hadn’t.” I stared out the window, wondering if I should continue. I’d come this far… screw it. “It’s not even remotely the same, but I do know what it’s like to wish I had killed somebody to protect someone else. I couldn’t, and I lost my friend. I don’t ever want to go back there now.” I shook my head as tears brimmed in my eyes.
“That’s why my mom and dad scraped together their life savings to give me a chance at a fresh start somewhere else,” I whispered, almost more to the distant cars passing on the highway overpass than to the man whose hand I held. “They saw that walking by my best friend’s house with her not in it anymore was eating away at my soul. So, even if everyone else, yourself included, wishes you hadn’t done what you did… thank you anyway.”
His jaw trembled, and he pulled his hand away with a slight nod. Barely opening his eyes, Aeron made his way back to the futon and stretched out on his side, facing the couch back. As he fell asleep, his shoulders loosened, stress and tension melting away with each deep breath.
When his breathing evened out, I tiptoed over to where he lay, covered him with my blanket, then quietly gathered my things and let myself out. This was the best goodbye I could think of: to offer hope, then leave things at that. It’s what I’d done when I left home, and I’d leave this place before it started to feel like one.
Before I got even more involved
I drove through the night to my parking space on the top floor of the garage, rolled my windows down so I could listen to the city sounds, and waited for morning to come. When it did, I’d have the best darned cost prospectus any of these people had ever seen.
I’d make HarmonE have to keep me. After all, this was my one chance, and I wasn’t about to blow it.
Chapter 19 – Dying
I was in a funk the whole next morning. The lack of sleep, the looming lunchtime coffee date with Darrel, the realization that this phase of my research was drawing to a close… missing Aeron. I didn’t want to think about any of it.
I’d halfway expected to be overjoyed to get out of it all, to escape the weird and return to my comfy desk chair. Those layouts I dreamed of drawing up, the in-app personality games to break down some of the walls I’d met with, the interfaces with the other HarmonE platform users to de-limit the option pool…
What did it matter if I wasn’t getting to see a necromancer smile when someone reached for them without shying away? Would these dear hearts become stick figure memories, ghosts living in my mind without a chance for me to care for them? Why was it bothering me that I might not see them again?
I replaced Fluffy’s spot on my desk with the little teacup garden Aeron had given me, peeking at the little bluebird hidden in the tree’s branches. I kinda wished, with a strange squeeze in my chest, that the two cups on the park bench were whiskey glasses. Maybe I’d fix it up one of these days, get somebody artsy to make me a tiny bottle and glass set. Maybe I’d put a tiny cigar in the bottle.
No. Stop it already. I shook my head, refusing to let my thoughts journey down melancholy paths.
Next to the little teacup, I set the seal Hugo had given me. He was just as beautiful as the first time I saw him, a charm to keep me safe, as best I could gather from the scattered explanation of its potency.
I’d keep him in my bag, only setting him out to look at when I put my keys up. He reminded me of Aeron now—the mottled scarring, the reds and greens having a war, the imperfections that weren’t all that imperfect when they were part of the whole.
By mid-morning, I’d accomplished so little I felt wrong even counting the time as productive work hours. I dashed off to the bathroom. Everything seemed to be bubbling up, and I wasn’t sure how much longer I could keep my composure.
As I speed-walked, head down, I hoped I could have a good cry and let it all out. So much stress, so much change—this had been a hell of a first week in the “real” workforce after farming my whole life, and it wasn’t over yet.
The office building seemed to have the AC on full blast, adding to my misery. It’s cold here, and no one will share their coat if I shiver.
Instead of tears, I only got numbness. There was no privacy in the restroom—two women from marketing were standing by the hand-washing sinks gossipping about somebody else I didn’t know or care to talk badly about. No connection to be had there.
To my surprise, when I steeled myself and looked in the mirror, I saw in my own eyes not the terror and loneliness I felt, but a resolute spark of courage. The voice in the back of my head had a daft London accent that said, “You’re a warrior, and you’ll fight this battle like the brave soldier you are.”
I slapped my palms down on the sink, like I’d seen him do a dozen times. The sting grounded me like I’d planted a flag in that spot. This far I’ve come. I’ll hold the line and take one more step, like the brave soldier I am…
If only I was really that brave.
But, if I could act that brave, put on the person I needed to be like a ridiculous motorcycle jacket, I might just make it one more day.
The women stopped their conversation, widening their eyes at me. I left before they could say anything, confident I’d given them something juicier to gossip about than whatever they had before. Let the
m; I didn’t care. If they asked, I’d tell them last time I lost my cool, it was in the middle of the grocery store, looking for a can of albacore tuna.
Come to think of it, that was a month after Hailey went missing.
I’d managed a whole internship this time without a breakdown. I really was a brave little soldier to ignore my own emotions so long. Self-directed sarcasm twisted my lips as I marched myself back from the restroom to my desk, sat down, and worked.
I understood Aeron now, when I was almost certain I’d never see him again. His will to fight was so strong because it had to beat his will to break every day. He faced the world with narrowed eyes and hunched shoulders, carrying so much, pulling it forward, digging his furrows.
I’d be different, though. I wouldn't let my desire to fight for the beautiful things slip so easily into fighting against them. I could borrow his resolve without accepting his combativeness along with it. There was plenty about myself I’d rather have instead of his personality.
Taking a deep breath, I glanced at the clock. It’s time. I’d have this lunch meeting with Darrel, keep it casual, decline a second date, and move forward with my job. I’d get the server up and running, and it would be beautiful. Then I’d get my apartment, live happily ever after, and…
Well, I’d cross that bridge when I came to it.
Gathering my things into my purse like I was preparing for an assault, not a coffee date, I clocked out for lunch early. If I was already headed down to the little corner cafe, Darrel couldn’t come up to my desk and walk with me the whole way down there, vying for another awkward hug or worse. I had it all strategized, down to which elevator I’d use to make my exit.
People dodged out of the way as I marched, this time not like I was some pariah they were afraid of being associated with, but like I might just bowl them over if they didn’t move it. This is an improvement, I thought with a smile, my timidness dying as boldness replaced it.
The sun beat down on my shoulders, and I let it melt my tension. In fact, I smiled back at it, willing my own warmth to reflect back to the sky. When I arrived at the coffee shop, I picked a large, circular booth I could sit in and keep maximum distance between myself and him. No missed signals here, but I would be kind.
I wasn’t here to hurt his feelings, but to spare him the pain of thinking there was more to this than me repaying him the attention he wanted for the favor he’d asked. My “boon,” to use the term I’d heard more this week than my whole life combined, would be repaid, but no more than that. Then, like Aeron, I was going to be done with debts and favors. I’d rather do things out of the kindness of my heart, anyway. That felt more real to me, more genuine than any other social contract.
A few minutes later, Darrel arrived. He wrung his hands as he scanned the room, until his gaze lit on me. “Want me to order?” he asked, trotting up to the table and planting himself close enough he could lean over its edge.
“I already got mine.” I gestured with my chin. “Just waiting for it to come up at the bar.”
“Oh.” His gaze flicked downward in disappointment at the news that he wouldn’t get to buy my drink.
I considered letting him get me a snack on the side, but it wasn’t worth having him feel like I owed him anything else. Best not to take that risk.
He shifted his weight on the balls of his feet. “Well, what’d you get?”
“Tall hazelnut caramel latte with no foam.” I smiled up at him, but leaned back to put a little more distance between us.
He made a face. “Oh. I don’t like caramel much.”
“I suppose that leaves more for me, then.” I forced the smile to remain, finding it harder to stay amiable at even his slight negativity. “Let me get yours, too! I kinda owe you one, after all.”
“Oh no!” Darrel backed toward the bar. “I was kinda hoping you’d let me get yours.”
“One hazelnut caramel latte for Celeste!” the barista called.
“That’s me!” I scooted out of the booth on the other side so as not to have to push him aside to get to my drink. As I took the mug, the bartender gave me a look of pity. I gave the girl a little nod of thanks for her understanding, then put my brave face back on.
Darrel hadn’t even sat down. He stood in the middle of the path where people were walking, stared at the menu, then stood again at the pickup counter, making everyone else walk around him to pick up their drinks.
I wondered who I would pair with Darrel as I slid back into my seat and took a sip of the hot, sweet liquid. Funny, I’d had the same thought about Ethan when I’d first met him. Now, of the two, I’d find an easier time pairing the necromancer with someone else than my unfortunately awkward coworker.
I picked up a candied roasted hazelnut from the saucer and crunched it thoughtfully. I wanted to channel its sweetness, to absorb it like some kind of sugar mage.
Soon, Darrel was sliding into the booth seat opposite me, an iced peppermint something or other sweating on the table between us. “So, how do you like the place?”
“I like it! Has a clean atmosphere and plenty of light.” I scanned the decor once more: the sleek, modern geometrics were a little out of date, but they worked fine. “It’s the kind of place you could go to wake up in a slump.”
“That’s a good idea—it is, uh, bright.” He looked around, as if doing his own assessment for the first time. I caught a sly glance in my direction. “We should do this more often.”
This is it. You can do this. You’ve been wishing you said this from day one; time to make it right. “No.”
I gave a little smile to soften the blow. I thought about explaining myself. I wanted to bridge the gap between the person across from me and myself, but something within me warned against it. Instead, I waited to see if he’d push to close that gap himself. As he stared dumbfounded at the wall behind my head, I took a sip of my coffee. It really was delicious, blending the caramel with the hazelnut.
Too bad this had to be so uncomfortable.
Behind me, the door to the place opened and closed as other people came in. Darrel took an extra long gulp in silence, as if wondering what on earth to say next. When it looked like he might get an ice headache if he didn’t come up for air, I asked him how work had been going. I hoped he’d catch on to my attempt at steering the conversation to make it a work outing more than a date. Work was a comfortable topic, one we shared interest in
Darrel wasn’t having it. “Uh, good. It’s a bunch of paperwork, but then, what isn’t?” He swallowed. “Did you see the game last night?”
I shook my head. “There was a game last night?” I recalled that Aeron had watched some rugby on his phone, but I doubted that’s what Darrel meant. I wasn’t about to mention that I’d spent the night at Aeron’s. Part of me wanted to, though, and let him draw his own conclusions. I might even discover how they were related.
Darrel brightened, ready to launch into a full play-by-play recap, when the door opened and shut again. His eyes went vacant like he’d just been introduced to paradox architecture and couldn’t compute. He suddenly seemed to have forgotten what he was about to say and how to close his jaw.
In curiosity, I turned in time to see four figures I recognized pour into the shop. They were laughing and talking amongst themselves, carrying on as if one of them had just told a hilarious joke and the others were ready to one-up it.
At the head of the pack, Ethan had his elbow extended to Nurse Marla. She leaned her chin on his narrow shoulder, and… miracle of all miracles, Ethan’s smile came out. She whispered her order into his ear for him to share as he picked up their tab.
Behind them, Lana glided in slowly and efficiently, like she didn’t want to waste an ounce of energy.
Aeron brought up the rear like he was the self-appointed group’s admiral. Whatever Lana ordered elicited a flick on her forehead from him.
The second Aeron’s eyes lit on me, they relaxed with relief. He sent me a nod, then his gaze sprang back into dagger mode as soon
as he shifted his attention to Darrel. The second he got up to the bar, Aeron loudly amended Lana’s order to add two scoops of vanilla bean ice cream, making it a coffee milkshake.
She glared at him, but a smile peeked through the corner of her lips anyway. She added cookies and cream crumbles to the top of her milkshake, then sprinkles and a single orange gummy bear. I couldn’t help but get the impression she could definitely enchant that milkshake and make it into a potion with how carefully she layered the toppings.
Then, Aeron whirled around. A broad, devilish grin burst over his face. “Darrel, you havin’ a party an’ not invitin’ us? ‘Family’s gotta stick togevver,’ mate!”
He gave a hearty, wheezing laugh and marched toward the table, almost managing to convince me he didn’t know we were here when he’d trotted through the door. Almost. “A regular necromancing triple date we’ve got on our ‘ands. ‘Cept you and me ain’t on a real date, Lana, seein’ as you’re me younger.” He cast the teen a wink, to her amusement.
As horrified patrons turned to eye the imposing newcomer, Aeron slapped his palms loudly on the table between thrilled me and petrified Darrel.
“Woss goin’ on ‘ere, then?” Aeron asked with a grin so wide it looked nearly psychotic. He didn’t wait for a response. “Everybody!” he shouted, which was wholly unnecessary as everyone’s attention was already centered on him. “Meet my cousin, Darrel! He’s a right gannet, and a bit of a nob, but we loves ‘im anyway, don’t we?”
“I didn’t know he was your cousin!” I glanced between the two, looking for the family resemblance, now that I had the two side-by-side to compare. There it was—the face length and jaw angle, though Aeron’s was cut from his body tone, and Darrel’s currently-ashen face had a bit more flesh over it.
“I got all the good looks in the family,” Darrel explained with a huff of nervous laughter. I didn’t bother correcting him, especially since Aeron guffawed in agreement and gave his cousin a friendly jab on the shoulder.
