by Abra Ebner
My body tensed, afraid I’d made him angry. It was then that I was reminded of his visible strength, and the fact that I still didn’t know that much about him. “I—I’m so sorry. I…” I was tripping over my words like an idiot. What could I possibly say to reconcile?
He twisted his hands on the wheel.
“I…” I swallowed, hoping that by relating, it could help. “My father is dead,” I blurted, finding it came across rather blunt. “I mean… what I meant to say is that, I understand.” I bowed my head. I’d ruined everything. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have pried.”
Max turned the wheel to turn around a corner. We headed out of town on the main road, close to where the accident and my father’s death had happened, making me increasingly uncomfortable. An image of my father flashed across my mind, laughing as we played catch in the yard on a summer day. I tried to press the image away.
Max seemed to relax a little. “It’s alright.” He looked at me, the tenderness in his blue eyes filtering back. “Like I said, they died a long time ago, Jane. It doesn’t hurt so much anymore.”
He gave me a shaky smile, and I found it hard to believe that he meant what he said. His reaction certainly didn’t seem as though he were over it. And the toughness explained a lot about his somber exterior. I began to wonder what happened to them. My eyes fell to the tattoos on his arms.
He noticed me. “One is for my mother, the other for my father.” He released one hand from the wheel, tilting his forearms toward me. “Wings.”
I lifted my hand to touch it. “May I?”
His eyes scanned my face before he nodded.
I touched my hand to his skin. It was cold as always, yet it sent warm tingles across my skin. “You’re so cold.” I remarked.
He eyed me. “Bad circulation.”
I traced the scalloped outline of one wing, and then pressed my palm against the length of it. It was as though I could feel his pain, and the loss of his parents. There was something appealing in the meaning—the death. I saw the look on Max’s face change, a flash of vulnerability in his eyes.
“My grandfather is the only family I have left…” he paused. “Well, almost.”
“Almost?” I pulled my hand away.
“I have a brother, too.”
My ears perked. I felt this was my chance to learn some more about this illusive mystery student that had lurked in my dreams. “Oh. A brother! Does he live here as well? Is he older? Younger?” I already knew the answers to most of this, but I figured that by pretending I hadn’t known I’d learn more about him.
Max laughed at my sudden burst of energy, the mood taking a turn for the better. “He’s younger, by a few minutes.”
“So, twins?” I pressed.
“Yes, but not identical.” His flash of humor was once again gone.
I placed my hand on the armrest of the door, mindlessly tracing my finger around the button for the window. The ring on my hand was glowing lightly. A part of me sensed an unease toward the subject of his brother. I dropped this conversation as well. I watched the shadowy trees pass by, imagining my father, Max’s tattooed wings, and the beings I’d seen that day, or at least imagined I’d seen.
A cello began to play in my head, the very song my mother played to me after the accident. She used to be a beautiful cellist, her songs draped with love and gentle melodramatic melodies. She would play to us as we fell asleep, the music trailing from the living room and up the stairs into our rooms. As the sadness of the accident faded, and the wounds healed, her playing grew less and less, until she no longer played at all. It was as though her love had slowly died away, and as my father’s memory left her, so did her life.
When she was gone at work, I began to teach myself, still longing to hear the music. Playing helped me to hold onto him and ease the early anxiety my dreams often gave me. She would have been angry if she knew I’d played, but it was one of the things I did in order to feel alive, and now, my dreams created the music for me. The orchestras in my head were all I needed at times—the music and the drawing were what kept me going.
“Beautiful.” Max finally spoke.
The music in my head stopped, and I shot my gaze to his. “What’s beautiful?” I accused.
He stared forward, his head tilted and relaxed. “You are.” His lip curled and he looked to the woods. “It’s peaceful, isn’t it?”
I relaxed and turned away from him, looking out my window. The refection of trees glittered under the light of the headlights, dew beginning to grow as the evening temperatures dropped. “Yes, it is.” I swallowed. “I love it here. I love the trees.”
“They play their own sort of melody, don’t they?” His eyes met mine, glimmering as though he knew my music.
“Sure,” I gawked, narrowing my vision. “Like a symphony,” I challenged.
His eyes grazed across my body. “Exactly.” He winked.
I stopped breathing. What did that mean?
Wes:
“Wes, should we just ask Gregory what he knows about us?” Emily’s voice was full of uncertainty.
“Ask him?” I snorted, crossing my arms against my chest. “I’m not asking him anything. Are you nuts? Did you not just see what happened back there?” I pointed over my shoulder for dramatic effect, trying to make my point. “I will never talk to that kid again, come Hell or high water.”
Emily rolled her eyes. “I just thought…” She looked hurt by my reaction.
I grabbed her arm, spinning her to face me. “Are you… defending him?” My gaze narrowed.
“No, Wes,” she denied, but her eyes spoke otherwise.
“Emily,” I hissed. “You were there. He’s a complete jerk!”
She looked at me with sheepish eyes.
“Wait…” my grip on her arm tightened. “Is he one of your dealers? Is that why you’re defending him?”
“No! I mean, well yes, but…” She squirmed in my grasp. “I don’t know what’s wrong with me. I don’t want to defend him at all! But something inside me wants to leave him alone, as though I don’t want him getting hurt, or—something.”
I felt sorry for her. She was clearly just trying to be nice. I couldn’t understand her compassion, though. The guy was a freak at best, not to mention the creepy vibe he gave off.
“Wes, what’s happening to us? Why are we all so stra—”
I stopped her, pressing my fingers to her lips and pulling her close to me. “I don’t know, Em,” I whispered. The sorrow in her eyes made my heart ache. I kissed her nose, sensing her need to be comforted. I brushed her auburn hair from her face, admiring the freckles on her cheeks that she finally allowed to show. “But that does not change the fact that I’m falling in love with you.”
Emily smiled, the freckles lifting. “I know that, Wes,” she whispered, her eyes seeing into my very soul.
I licked my lips, trying to find a meaning. “There is a reason why we’re here together, Em. Perhaps we were meant to support each other, drawn to whatever demon has possessed or blessed us with these thoughts and changes.”
Emily tilted her head. “But with Gregory—I’ve felt that same dangerous feeling from him before. Greg is different than you, Wes, or anyone else. I should want to hurt him for the things I hear, but I don’t. What does that mean, Wes? Why do I feel so… protective?” A tear fell from her eye.
I kissed it off her cheek and licked my lip. The salty sweetness reminded me of the way her lips tasted. I suddenly craved them, but the fear in her eyes told me it wasn’t the right time. I drew a deep breath and pressed back my desires. “What do you feel? What do you hear from him?”
She looked frightened by the answer on her mind. “Screaming.” Her voice shook. “Like murderous screams.” Her face changed, now laced with a look of bewilderment. “And Max, too. Only what I hear from him is much different, almost like a lullaby. But still, I fear it because it’s a strange and dark lullaby, like a song of death.” She was whimpering, struggling to hold herself together. �
��My sister, she must not sense that from him. How could she? I mean, I know she’s a smart girl, and would never get involved with someone shady, but—”
“Max?” I creased my brow. “You hear that from Max, too?” Anger surged through my heart. Though I was falling in love with Emily, I still wanted to protect Jane.
Emily looked disturbed, showing that she’d heard my thoughts and was bothered by the fact that I still cared.
“Em, don’t look at me like that. We need to get Jane away from Max, and you know that as well as I,” I pressed. She still looked perplexed. “Jane’s your sister, and she could be in danger by being with him. We can’t let anything happen to her. I’m telling you this from a romantically unattached position. Just look into my head, you’ll see that I’m telling you the truth.” I forced her to look me in the eye.
I could tell she agreed, though resentfully. “But what do they want?”
I shrugged. “I don’t know yet, but doesn’t it seem strange that it’s all happening at once? What if these changes are in correlation with the fact of the brothers arrival in Glenwood Springs?”
She nodded. “But I don’t understand, Wes.”
“Em, what if they are evil. What if I’m meant to protect everyone, and… kill them?”
“Wes!” Emily looked cross. She lowered her voice. “Wes, you’re talking about murder. Besides, you’re jumping to conclusions a little fast, don’t you think?” She shook her head. “I know your hormones are raging right now, but that does not justify bumping off the creepy new kids in school!”
I finally released my hold on her arm. “I know, Em. I’m sorry. It’s just… I don’t need time to get to know them like you do. I know they’re bad news, and my mind is made up. Just don’t come crying to me when you finally realize that too late.”
“Whatever, Wes.” She pouted for a moment as we walked in silence.
I let my mind wander, watching her. The angry lines around her eyes were cute, and her somewhat tough exterior crumbled as I felt the soft passion of her heart.
Emily finally smiled, relaxing a little as my flirtatious thoughts calmed her. “So, Wes, back to what’s important…” Her cheeks flushed. “You’re falling in love with me? Is that what you said?”
I laughed.
Max:
I’d planned to get the door for Jane, but she was already out of the car. Women these days: no longer willing to allow a man to show a little chivalry.
“Wow,” she was looking up at the house.
“Yeah, it’s rather old.” I looked at the European style eaves. The quiet rustle of the woods around us crackled in my ears.
“I’ll say,” she swooned. “I never knew there was a house like this in the area.”
I walked up to her, forgetting myself as I took her hand, still drunk from the way she touched me in the car. She looked shocked by the intimate connection, but when she didn’t pull away, I felt better.
“When was it built?”
“Late eighteen-hundreds.”
Jane nodded, and I knew what question was coming next. “Was it in the family?” She squeezed my hand.
I tried to think of a good explanation. This house wasn’t part of our family, but rather the alchemist’s family, but it wasn’t time for me to explain that to her just yet. The alchemist never had children. Being that my mother was his one true love, he’d never married. Because of this, Erik had inherited his estate when he’d finally passed on.
“Yes. You could say that,” I finally answered.
Jane gave me an inquisitive look, but didn’t venture further with the subject.
“My grandfather loves it, as you can imagine. He believes the house is magickal, and the history of it lends itself to his tales. I’m sure you’ve read a lot about the things he believes.” I lifted her hand as it remained in mine. “He found that ring in this house, in a secret room.”
Jane’s eyes grew wide with enthusiasm. “A secret room? That must have been fascinating! I bet he has a lot of tales.” Though her thoughts were hard to read because of the ring, holding her hand let me see that her mind was alive. “It was probably fun to hear about growing up, wasn’t it?”
“It was fun, and his stories were vivid, as though I was there.” I smiled to myself, knowing that in truth, I was there.
As long as Gregory stayed away, I always managed to make my way back here. Years would pass without a word from Gregory, but then there were years where he never left my side. For the most part, he left Erik alone. I don’t think he meant to murder him at all, as things were beginning to suggest, but in his rage, he had gotten out of control. Erik was just a child at the time—innocent—and I think Greg always felt guilty about it, though he’d never flat out admit it.
I took her up the stairs and onto front porch, our shoes echoing across the ancient wood. I grasped the tarnished silver handle, opening the door as I led her in.
“Hello?” I announced.
There was a rustling from the library just to the left of the front door. Erik emerged, rolling toward us in his wheelchair. “Hello!” He chuckled.
I’d briefed him on the ring, and the fact that he was now my grandfather, and no longer my brother. Erik had groaned when I told him that, reminding me that there was a time when he was an uncle, but was now too old for that to apply.
Erik’s eyes flashed me one last warning. The last few days he’d lectured me about the fact that having Jane here was dangerous, but I refused to allow Gregory to prevent me from trying to have a normal life, and a normal girlfriend. It had been over eighty years that I’d dealt with his torment, and I was done giving into the death. I wanted to live again.
I placed my hand on the small of Jane’s back as we stood. Erik noticed, winking discreetly.
He turned his attention back to Jane. “Aren’t you gorgeous, my dear?” Erik rolled closer to her, taking her hand and holding it between both of his. He eyed the ring. “Do you like the ring?” He touched it. “Absolutely magnificent, isn’t it?”
Jane giggled bashfully. “You really didn’t have to give it to me.” She allowed Erik to continue to hold her hand.
Erik smiled large, the wrinkles on his face engulfing his eyes. “It was my pleasure. Besides, I have plenty of other magickal things.”
He turned, and Jane followed him. We entered the dining room, the table filled with an array of foods, all things I had no appetite for. A waiter came up to me and offered me an hors d’œuvre. Erik was mocking me now, and I didn’t like it.
“Oh, wow, Mr. Gordon.” Jane laughed. I loved her laugh. “You really went out of your way!” She took a hors d’œuvre, taking the heat off me.
Erik’s eyes were laughing, and I gave him a reproachful glare in return.
We all sat, the clocks on the walls ticking. I watched her as her eyes remained occupied by the pictures on the wall. I saw Erik smirk further.
“You enjoy art as well?” she asked. Jane was looking at an image of our family, tilting her head with interest. I tried to read her thoughts to see if she suspected anything, but I heard nothing.
Erik glanced sideways at me. “That is… Er… That is our family.”
“Erik’s parents, my great-grandparents,” I added, still exchanging glances with Erik.
Erik’s expression was nervous, but it had been a long time since I’d heard his thoughts. The alchemist had created a potion that permanently blocked his thoughts from prying minds. He had given it to Erik before he died. I wasn’t prepared to use that elixir on Jane, thinking that there may come a day when I’d need to know what went on in her head.
“Yes. I’m the youngest, and… Er… Max’s father is uh…” He pointed to the boy in the middle, me. “The boy there.”
Jane giggled. “Max, he looks just like you! Or rather, you look just like him.”
“You have no idea,” I mumbled.
The image of me in the painting was when I was ten. Thankfully, I hadn’t looked too much like the person I was now. I threw a dis
creet glare toward Erik. He shrugged. We hadn’t prepared for her to ask questions about the art, and in truth, we had completely forgotten.
“So, then, that must be you.” Jane pointed to our father. She then looked at Erik, squinting as she struggled to find the resemblance.
Our father had green eyes, where Erik’s were hazel. Our father also had black hair, and Erik had brown. Luckily, though, Erik’s hair was now white.
“You were so handsome, Mr. Gordon!” She exclaimed.
Erik chuckled with a mouth full of food. “Dear, please call me Erik, and I think I still am handsome.”
Jane laughed, nodding enthusiastically. “Oh, yes. You are!” She looked back at the painting, and my nerves refused to relax. “So, then the other two boys… are those you’re uncles?” She was directing the question toward me.
I didn’t like the questions. I should have been better prepared.
A laugh erupted from deep inside the house then, just when I thought things couldn’t possibly get worse. I shut my eyes and exhaled, dread washing over me.
Greg walked into the room. “Yes, those are his uncles.”
Jane:
I froze when I saw his face. He winked at me.
Gregory?
My nostrils flared as I tried to get oxygen to my brain. He was exactly the same as I’d seen him in the dream, right down every spiked, black hair on his head. Max touched my hand, and I looked at him. He looked perplexed, his brows a narrow line of anger. My heart plummeted into my stomach, and I dropped my fork.
“Gregory, what are you doing here?” Max spoke through his teeth, clearly angered to see him.
How was he real? I’d never seen him aside from my dreams, but then, how was he here? Gregory eyed my ring, the smile on his face never faltering.
“Ah, Max. You gave her your ring.” He was smiling falsely.
I snatched my hand from the table, hiding it within my other.
His ring?
Gregory rolled back onto his heels. “How… inventive of you, Brother.” His smile faded, and his green eyes grew wide and piercing.
