by Lissa Kasey
My brain was a little slow most days, and today seemed no different as things started to slowly fall into place. Sarah and Micah were here in this distorted world, probably looking for a way out too. My first thought was that this was all an elaborate dream, only it felt too real. Despite the odd misshapen landscape and endless shadows, something churned in my gut, reminding me of little things, the air on my skin, the burning in my hand where the boy had touched me, the feel of Micah’s lips on mine. And while it was great to see him, it meant I was likely stuck as well. Wherever we were, world between worlds, dream dimension, whatever. Was there a way out?
I frowned and looked around, world shifting and bleeding color at the edges. We stood at the open grave, it being the most defined thing in the cemetery. Figures, almost shadows, moved around us, untouchable.
Maybe we were even standing on the other side, whatever it meant after death? This was too much for my already overworked brain.
Micah reached for my hand, gripping it and reminding me of his presence as I seemed to be drawn into watching the shadows move. He spoke again, but I shook my head, as I couldn’t understand him. He frowned, an expression I didn’t like seeing on his face.
I wanted to reach for him and soothe away the irritation, but found I still had one hand clamped on that gnarled evil ring, and that hand was still burning. I held it up, feeling the heat, though no pain, and frowned at it myself.
Micah reached for it and I pulled my hand away, afraid I’d burn him. But he caught my wrist and held it up. Did he see the glow like I did? The fire? The memories? The rage? It wasn’t even a positive thing, not pretty like I might envision a quest object in a video game, more like water and oil creating grease rainbows of pulsing power.
I opened my hand so he could see the ring, though wouldn’t let him touch it. He didn’t need that stain leeching onto him like it had to me. He frowned over the ring then glanced at the tomb. He moved my wrist toward the grave, pointing at the gaping hole which looked almost like a mouth in that moment. Fear roiled through my gut. It made sense to give it back to the darkness. I tried to throw the thing into the hole. It was only a few feet and shouldn’t have been an issue, but it clung to my hand, attached as though it had been superglued.
“Fuck,” I cursed, though I knew they probably couldn’t make out what I said.
Micah let go and pointed me toward the grave. I got the idea. Put the ring in the giant gaping hole. Sure. Stick my hand in there, ‘cause that wasn’t a nightmare we’d all had once or twice in our lives. Childish fears, I reminded myself. This was all a dream after all, right? Only if it was a dream, I didn’t want it to end and awake to find Micah gone again.
I looked at him, trying to convey with my expression everything I wanted to say but knew he wouldn’t understand in this disjointed world. He squeezed my hand and gave me a tiny reassuring smile. Message received. I sighed and leaned forward to kiss him lightly, which he accepted.
I was crazy about him. A few days and I knew that we were far beyond a training situation, at least on my side. I wanted to know everything about him, wake up to his adorable smile, listen to him laugh over my stupid jokes, and make cookies for him while he crafted to sort out his head. He nodded, kissed me once more, and I pulled away to head toward the tomb.
I approached the grave, Micah’s hand in my empty one, his grip firm and leaving me to hope that this would all be over soon. I remembered what Jared had said about putting the ring back in the grave and he would get Sarah back. Maybe it was a metaphor, maybe it was real. The child had given me a ring—was it the right ring?—, and I could give it back to the grave. Would it somehow break the hold of this odd other world and let us all go?
The gaping hole seemed to extend and grow into something large enough to walk through as I got closer. Twice I tried to shake off the ring toward the grave, only nothing happened as the glowing thing clung to me. Not really a ring, I realized briefly, but a mark of some sort of magic, if that was at all a real thing. Whatever deals or contracts the woman and her family had made in life, clung to me in a bond that needed life to continue. Since I was the nearest life it stuck to me, only I wanted no part of it.
The open doorway into darkness looked like a void. I could feel it dragging in tiny particles of that distant energy. A slow-moving vacuum of life, and like it was feeding, I could see the bits of life it stole from Micah and more from Sarah who had been stuck there longer. I had to close the portal, if that was what it was. Would returning the ring do that? Fuck, I was like a teenager given the job of brain surgery and told to wing it with several lives hanging in the balance. And while I hoped it was all some elaborately detailed dream, I suspected it was a reality stranger than anything my exhausted brain could conjure up.
Standing at the foot of that doorway into an abyss of darkness, I hesitated. Would it be so simple? Leave the ring and close the portal to shut off that constant drain? Would it leave us stuck? Could I even let go of the ring as it was bonded to my hand?
Micah and Sarah stood behind me, both clinging to each other, and Micah’s hand tightening on mine. They were counting on me to not be a coward.
The memory of crying like a baby and clinging to another soldier while others died around us in the desert flashed through my head. Odd for a dream to have that flash of memory in the middle. But it made my gut hurt when the feeling of being a fucking coward, again filled my head. Not this time, I thought and lifted my hand toward the grave.
I thrust my fist and the smoldering ring into the darkness, expecting to drop whatever and pull back. Only the darkness wasn’t simply a lack of light, it was like jelly, thick and viscous, enclosing my hand and sucking me inward. In panic I tried to rip my arm backward as the mass dragged me forward. It swallowed my arm up to the shoulder as I glanced back at Micah, fear and horror on his face and Sarah’s beyond him. They both grabbed my remaining free hand and pulled, like they could somehow free me from the shadow. But their strength was nothing compared to that void. The two of them were dragged forward with me, feet scraping at the dirt, and I fought harder, trying to keep my boots planted and outside the grave, even if it took my fucking arm off. A thousand horrific ideas filled my head of what might happen if I were pulled into that grave.
The fire in my grip cooled to ice, burning in a different way, spreading a numbness through my limbs as the shadowy ooze sucked me inward. And I floundered as the darkness drew me into its embrace. It took only seconds for it to begin covering my legs and torso. Micah and Sarah still pulled, and I gasped for breath as it poured across my face, feeling like slime against my skin. With the last large gulp of air, I shoved off their hands so they wouldn’t be pulled under with me, and prayed that my sacrifice would free them from whatever this other world was. My own life to free them was all I had left to offer. If that was what it took, so be it.
The cold numbness spread over my limbs. My vision faded beneath the ooze as my lungs burned with lack of air. Life was leeched away from me like a thousand pinpricks siphoning away blood instead of my soul. The black, inky, void devoured everything.
The heaviness suffocating me in that ooze as I stared up at a hole gaping through the darkness. It was so far above there was no way I’d reach it, but light glowed from beyond it. I blinked a few times unable to keep focused and clear under the onslaught of pressure.
Things fed at me. Tiny moving shadows eating away at my body like insects in the darkness. They writhed like maggots, burrowing into my soul. The pain was excruciating, but I was paralyzed and helpless. I prayed Micah had gotten away.
It was rage that made me struggle to look again, finding the opening far above through a blurred gaze. Rage and fire. Not mine, but something that felt familiar enough that the separation of the emotion was difficult. Fire leapt through the opening above, a burning mass of bright energy and anger. If I had the strength to be afraid, I would have been. Only suffocating in the darkness, being eaten alive, I couldn’t move. It reached for me, a terrifying f
orm of twisting flames, crackling and snapping in the darkness. It wrapped arms around me.
Mine, it said as I screamed, the fire engulfing me. Ice seared away, awakening my nerves and lighting me in a web of agony as I burned. The ring and the maggots melted away as the fiery being engulfed me in a devouring embrace. The final darkness that overtook me then was blissful with its all-consuming loss of awareness.
Chapter 26
I woke feeling like I’d been underwater too long. My lungs ached from the sudden onset of too much air and my limbs felt heavy. There were machines attached to me. Beeping and alarms filled the tiny beige room with noise and color as I blinked at a white, tiled ceiling and dimmed fluorescent lights.
Nurses filled the room, the uniforms unmistakable despite the molasses movement of my brain. There were pops of color, sound, and motion that wavered in and out of focus. I think I dozed a few times, dreamless losses of consciousness that lasted only a few minutes, I think, because the scene around me didn’t change. Doctors, nurses, voices, machines, and the same tiny room.
Several times they spoke to me. The sound of their voices meshed, watery, and muted. Once or twice I thought I made out the question, “What is your name?”
“Alexis Caine,” I replied, not sure if my lips were actually moving or not. But then I slept again, body too heavy to fight through the exhaustion.
When next I woke, I actually felt somewhat normal. And I had to pee like a motherfucker. Holy shit. I blinked, tried to orient myself and took in that I was in a hospital, the only thing attached was an IV line giving me fluids. I could feel my body well enough to know that if I didn’t get up, I’d piss the bed and there was no catheter.
It took a bit of effort to get myself to the edge of the bed, and ready to get vertical. My legs and arms felt weak, like they had been overused and abused. A male nurse appeared in the doorway with a clipboard. He did a tiny lurch at seeing me up and set the clipboard on the rolling table before he was by my side, steadying me.
“Need to pee,” I told him.
“Okay,” he agreed and helped me up, moving the IV stand to roll with me. We waddled to the bathroom. He helped me to the giant area beside the toilet and pointed to the bar beside it. “Hold on to that so you don’t fall over.”
“Planning on it,” I promised, reaching for the handle. Thankfully he let me pee in peace. I was able to wash my hands and open the door before he was back to help me into the bed. How had I gotten to the hospital? Had the fall given me a concussion I hadn’t noticed? “Can you tell me why I’m here?” I asked the nurse.
“I think we all have a lot of questions about that,” the nurse said. “But your brother is on his way. So hopefully we’ll have some answers soon.”
I frowned. “But I don’t remember coming to the hospital at all.” Why would Lukas be on the way? Wouldn’t he have been notified the second I’d been admitted? I knew from the vague memory of waking up the first time that I’d obviously been in the hospital at least a day, since there had been so much in and out of consciousness. “Did I have a concussion?”
“You’re severely dehydrated and malnourished, but no concussion,” the nurse said. “Do you remember hitting your head?”
I thought about when I’d passed out and smashed my face on the sidewalk after Micah disappeared—Micah, was he still missing?—, though my face didn’t hurt anymore. “I fell, but I don’t think I fell hard enough to break anything.”
“That’s good. If you’re feeling okay, I can get some food ordered for you.”
“Food would be good,” I said, suddenly feeling like I hadn’t eaten in forever. I’d even eat those stupid sugar pillows people called beignets if I had to.
“Let me get some food for you then.” Once he’d helped me back into the bed, he grabbed up his clipboard and left.
I frowned at the room, not recognizing it from the hospital I’d been at in New Orleans. But there were multiple hospitals in New Orleans. Perhaps I hadn’t been to this one before? At least it didn’t look like a psych ward. I’d seen enough of those in my life to recognize just about any of them. And since they weren’t limiting my access to the bathroom or facial tissues, I didn’t think I was on any sort of suicide watch.
Dehydrated and malnourished? How did that happen? I’d been eating fine, at least two meals a day plus snacks. Maybe I’d been out a few days? That could explain the dehydration but not being malnourished, that took longer than a few days to develop. I frowned at the questions popping up in my head. Overthinking was a skill I had on a good day, today it was out of control.
Had it all been a dream? The cemetery, seeing Micah and Sarah? The excruciating pain of being eaten by the shadows and then rescued by fire. Too many questions. I prayed it was all an elaborate dream. Anything else was terrifying.
I laid back and dozed a bit more, jolting awake every few minutes when I felt some sort of electricity run through my limbs. I imagined the feeling equated a bit to being hit by lightning. Little shocks of muscle spasms would make a body part tremble for a minute or two before passing on to another part of me. It was a bit unnerving, but didn’t hurt as much as it was uncomfortable.
The food came, and while it was a bland plate of chicken breast, mashed potatoes and gravy, and a white roll, it tasted divine. I ate every bite, and wondered if I could request more. Why was I so damn hungry? Why did I want bananas? It was an almost visceral need as my gut twisted with desire. Like instead of water I needed a fucking banana. Maybe I really was going nuts.
“Mr. Caine?” The nurse was back, popping his head around the open doorframe.
“Yes?” I asked, pushing away the finished tray.
“Your brother is here. Along with a Micah Richards, are you okay with seeing them?”
Micah was here? Micah was found? Holy fuck! I nearly leapt out of bed, but a muscle spasm heaved through my left calf, in a horrible charley horse, making me curl up over it until it passed.
“Just a second,” I groaned, rubbing at the pain, and trying to breathe through it.
“You don’t have to see them if you don’t want to,” the nurse said after a minute.
“No, please. I do want to see them. Sorry my muscles are acting odd,” I replied when the pain finally passed.
“It’s part of the malnutrition. That’s why we still have the bag on you. You’ll probably need a potassium drip soon too. I’ve already got a note in to the doctor about it. We’re waiting on some of your blood tests and when we pulled your records you have a long list of allergies. So we kept your care basic.”
“Appreciate it,” I said. “Drugs and me don’t mix well. Can I see them now? Lukas and Micah? Please?” Was this real? Were they here? I had so many questions.
“Sure. Give me a moment to bring them down.” He vanished and I tried to keep myself calm waiting by singing to myself, “Ninety-nine bottles of beer on the wall.”
I feared falling asleep again and awakening to find they weren’t here, wherever here was, or that Micah was still missing, or that I was still lost in some sort of unknown grave being eaten alive by evil shadow maggots. I could have used a craft in that moment, sort of like Micah did when he needed to clear his head, crochet or even coloring, like was big when I’d been in the psych ward. It would have been something to focus on as it felt like forever before footsteps and voices approached the door. I was in the fifties of remaining bottles when they finally arrived.
Lukas was the first through. He flew at me, wrapping his arms around me and holding tight enough to hurt. I blinked at him, and then Micah who reached for me as well. I held out an arm so I could wrap them both in a hug.
It was Micah. He felt real, solid, and whole in my arms. Lukas was a bit more confusing as he looked more like me than I’d ever recalled him looking. His face was covered in scruff and hair a mess like he’d missed a trim or two, and that made no sense.
“I’m so happy to see you guys,” I told them.
Lukas took my face into his hands. “Is it
really you? Fuck.”
“It’s okay,” Micah whispered. He stroked Lukas’s back and leaned forward to kiss my forehead. “You’re okay, right?”
I blinked at him, a thousand questions in my head. “I think so. Some weird muscle cramping. What happened? Where did you go in the cemetery?” I asked him.
Micah shook his head, his expression guarded. He flicked his eyes toward Lukas. “Let’s focus on you for a minute, okay?”
Lukas still held on like he was terrified I’d be yanked away from him at any moment. I rubbed his back and shoulders and met Micah’s gaze, feeling something unspoken transfer between us. Something had happened.
A sick realization sank into my gut as I looked at Lukas’s disheveled appearance and Micah’s blank mask. I’d lost time. That was what Micah was trying to tell me without making my brother lose his shit. Not a few days like I originally suspected. How long? Weeks? Months?
Had the cemetery dream been real? Micah had watched me dragged down into the abyss, unable to help. Was he traumatized by the memory? Did he remember at all?
Micah turned to the nurse. “Is there a doctor we can talk to? Get an update from? We’d like to take him home as soon as possible.”
The nurse nodded. “I’ll send word to have him come down. I know the police wanted to talk to Mr. Caine before he left as well.”
“Is he in trouble?” Micah asked.
“I don’t think so. More they were worried about how he got into the state he was in.”
Micah nodded, like he understood and waved the nurse off. “If we could start with the doctor that would be great.”
“Okay,” the nurse agreed and left.
I stroked Lukas’s hair. “Hey, buddy. You’re a bit of a mess, yeah?” I told him.
He pulled away enough to look at me. “You need food. You were already so thin… Fuck. Have you eaten?”
