Mayhem

by Artist Arthur

  At that exact moment Krystal lifts her head. “Is it gone?”

  I’m not sure how much of what just happened she’s aware of so I ask, “Is what gone?”

  “That freaky bird” is her reply.

  I’m relieved that’s all she mentions.

  ten

  Taking the bus to get Krystal home gave us more time together. She didn’t talk about the bird again and neither did I. Her hand stayed in mine, even when we boarded the bus and sat in two seats close to the back.

  “I’m glad you were there tonight,” she says suddenly, then lays her head on my shoulder.

  I don’t say anything but I’m glad, too. It’s at that moment that I realize there’s nothing I wouldn’t do to keep Krystal safe. She’s important to me. Well, I’ve known that for a while, but tonight I guess it hits me just how important. I didn’t want that Darkness to touch her, didn’t even want her to hear its thick, raspy voice. Whatever evil it intended to do, I wanted to take it all on myself. That’s like being overprotective to the fifth power.

  Walking Krystal to her door at a quarter after ten on a school night makes me nervous, but she assures me it’s okay. I don’t know how, her stepfather can be pretty mean at times. I guess she means that since her mother thinks she was at church that coming home this late would be justified. But I don’t understand why her mother would let her stay out, even at church, this late by herself. Then again, I’m not a parent.

  “Guess I won’t see you in school tomorrow,” she says standing right beneath the bright yellow porch light.

  Their house is in a nice neighborhood, and it’s big with a wraparound porch and lots of windows. Her mother likes flowers, so they’re wrapping around the house, too. When I look at Krystal standing in front of the dark blue door with its gold knocker and tiny peephole she looks just like she belongs. Like she should always be surrounded by nice things.

  “Nah, three-day suspension and then my dad has to meet with Dumar.” I wonder how that’ll all turn out, but I’m probably not as worried as I guess I should be.

  “It’ll work out,” she says, then reaches up a hand to cup my cheek.

  There’s that warmth again, that soothing feeling that spreads throughout my body every time she touches me. It’s settling and makes me feel good all over. I take a step closer to her, touching my palm to her cheek the same way she’s doing mine.

  She smiles. “You’re not as complex as you seem, Jake Kramer.”

  I chuckle because I’m not sure how I should take that. “Hope that’s a good thing.”

  Nodding, she steps closer. “It’s a really good thing.”

  I’d imagined this moment so many times. There were different backdrops and different scenarios, but the end result was always the same. My lips on Krystal’s. Before anything else happens to possibly stall the moment, I lean forward. She sort of tilts her head up, since I’m taller than her. Long eyelashes flutter before her eyes completely close. My own lids lower slightly but not so much that I can’t see the small pucker of her lips. I press mine right there and hold still for what seems like endless seconds.

  Her arms wrap around my neck and mine slide down to circle her waist. The warmth now cocoons us and the kiss deepens. I don’t want this moment to end. I mean really, the sky could open up at this very moment and every dark entity in the world could come pouring out for all I care. I’m kissing Krystal Bentley and she’s kissing me.

  When she pulls away, biting her lower lip nervously and looking up at me, I feel like I can do anything.

  “I’ll come by if my dad isn’t still pissed off at me,” I say while her slightly shaking fingers push hair back behind her ears.

  “I’m really surprised you weren’t grounded tonight.”

  “Yeah, me, too. I guess. He seemed more upset that I’d used my powers in public than about the suspension.”

  “Why did you do that?” she asks seriously. “It was intense, the energy in the room and the glass breaking.”

  “You weren’t there,” I say, remembering that I’d looked for her afterward, reached for her I guess. “I turned around and you were gone.”

  “I was called away,” she says.

  “Called away, by whom?” She doesn’t answer right away. “A ghost?”

  She shrugs. “Sometimes they don’t take a number and wait in line like I tell them.”

  I figure this might still be uncomfortable for her to talk about, and truth be told, I’ve had enough of the supernatural tonight, so I don’t even press the issue.

  “It’s cool. Everything’s okay now.”

  “I don’t know, Jake. Everybody in that cafeteria saw what happened. There are bound to be questions.”

  I know exactly what she’s saying and I believe she’s right. But I’m not going to worry about that now. “Then they can join the club. With all the questions we have without answers we can’t be of much help to them anyway.” I laugh and reach out to touch her face one more time.

  My hand glides down to her shoulder then to clasp her fingers in mine.

  “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

  She smiles and I want to pull her into my arms again.

  “See you tomorrow,” she says.

  I don’t have any more cash on me after paying both mine and Krystal’s bus fare. I’d just come out of the house the way I was, hadn’t thought I’d be traveling across town. So I have no choice but to walk home by myself.

  That’s fine. I’ve got a lot on my mind, walking might clear some of it away so I’ll have at least a small shot of getting to sleep tonight.

  First, I think about my dad, about how mad he gets about the power. But what I’d said to him was the honest truth, there’s nothing he can do to stop me from using it. I get why he’s afraid, but I also know this is just something that I have to do.

  Then I start to wonder about this power and the goddess that supposedly gave it to us. Strange weather events happen all over the world. How does Styx pick and choose who will be a Mystyx? And what’s our real purpose? What does she want us to do to conquer the Darkness or whatever the evil entity is? Sasha found the words to the curse on the back of a letter from a Magical killed in the Salem Witch Trials. Pop Pop had history of his own to share with us and Casietta said she was chosen to be Sasha’s Guardian. But none of it makes sense. If we, the Mystyx, I mean, were the chosen ones to fight the Darkness, why did we need Guardians? And what could the human Guardians do to protect us from the supernatural evil? None of this was adding up for me.

  Crossing Reed Street at the corner I see lights are still on at the church. Guess the youth prayer session is still going on. Thrusting my hands in my pocket I walk by the church. It’s quiet but I still wonder who’s inside. I don’t dare go in. Not because I’m afraid or anything, but I can’t remember the last time I’ve been in a church. Dad never goes, and Pop Pop hasn’t left the house in so long. Religion just isn’t a big thing in my family.

  My steps aren’t fast, kind of a leisurely stroll. As there’s a lot going on in my mind, hurrying home isn’t really what I’m focused on. I should be thinking about the kiss Krystal and I just shared, about how I like this new closeness between us. Franklin is definitely out of the picture if she could kiss me like that.

  The whack on the back of my head clears that thought effectively. It stings like something just poked me and I stumble forward before turning to see what it is. There’s nothing there. Rubbing the back of my head I keep walking but I know I’m no longer alone.

  He’s here.

  And so is the raven, flying just above my left shoulder.

  “Go away,” I say, and toss my arm up in the air in a shooing motion.

  Follow me.

  The voice speaks to me and I really want to ignore him. I mean, my brain says to ignore him and keep walking. Something inside me feels different and my feet turn the corner right behind the raven that’s now like a foot in front of me.

  It seems like I’m walking forever, following a bird in t
he dark of night like some kind of recluse. We left the main street a few minutes back, traveling through the alley behind the church, down a worn path through the hills leading to a dense patch of trees.

  Everything in Lincoln seems to lead to a forest, like the people that built the town just hacked out sections of trees and dropped houses and buildings. This is an old town full of secrets and history that kids like me barely ever pay attention to. I do know that where I’m walking, in this dark stretch of land well behind the church, is not traveled much. It’s sort of like the cemetery—kids and most people steer clear, fearing some kind of omen or man-made hocus-pocus, that’s what Dad says. Bottom line, this wasn’t my favorite place in town. I didn’t come here often.

  Until now.

  The raven stops and circles. When I catch up with it I stop, too. It squawks and I look around, then down. The toes of my shoes touch a rock or some kind of stone plate. Bending down, I try to see what it says, but it’s too dark. On instinct I touch it, only to quickly pull my hand back as the heat scorches my fingers. Swearing and shaking my hand, I’m in no way prepared for the beams of light that shoot up from the stone, like one of those light beams you can buy at the Walgreens near the library. Spears of golden light pierce the darkness, whirling until each beam—about six or seven of them—combine into one big shaft of light that to my further dismay opens the ground.

  That’s right, the spot I’m leaning over that was the stone is now a hole, a black hole outlined by the lighted beams.

  Follow me.

  “Where? In there?” I’m talking out loud, to what probably looks like myself, or a bird, I don’t know which one makes me look crazier. But none of that compares to me jumping into a black hole because this voice told me to.

  Then again, I jumped out of the window because it told me to and nothing much happened there. Maybe this jump would have the same effect. I doubt it, and that’s why I still don’t move.

  Do not be afraid. It is where you belong.

  “In a black hole? I belong in a black hole?” That just doesn’t sound right for so many reasons.

  The answers you seek are here.

  The voice knows exactly how to bait me. I don’t think I like that. Standing up straight, I’m still doubting this decision, but none of it matters, I’m going into that black hole. I know it. I have no choice.

  Freefalling, that’s what it feels like. There’s nothing around me but air, a stifling kind of air that almost hurts to breathe. To say that it’s dark is an understatement, and as my arms and legs flail in the nothingness the voice echoes in my head.

  You know what to do, you’ve been here before.

  Ah, no, I haven’t.

  Remember.

  Remember what? He has to have me mistaken for someone or something else. I’ve never been down this dark hole before. This isn’t something you’d forget in a lifetime. But then my arms and legs go still. They both straighten so that it seems like I’m standing in the center of nothing. My feet finally hit solid ground and that’s it. I don’t fall, don’t wobble. I just stop. But I don’t remain still for long. The tunnel goes to my left and to my right. My gut says go left and I’m not about to argue, since that’s the only thing I can really trust at the moment.

  Even stranger is that as I walk I know this is going to be a long corridor. If I reach out an arm my fingers will touch the warm walls, bumpy from time and erosion. It’s dark and yet I can see because maybe, I mean, it did sort of feel like I’d been here before.

  The darkness gives way to a blue-tinted black color that I can see through just fine. The long corridor winds to the left, then to the right before opening into a space that’s probably the size of my entire house. I’m acutely aware of my surroundings because I know I’m not alone. The sound of running water echoes but seems to be close. A thin mist covers the floor, which feels slick beneath the worn soles of my shoes. For what seems like eons I just stand there waiting, knowing that he’s coming. For me.

  And in the next second he appears, rising up from what I can now see is a river of dark blue-black water running through the tunnellike room. He’s perfectly dry, at least the long black robe he’s wearing with the hood pulled up over his head isn’t dripping one bit as he rises to the top of the water and walks slowly toward me.

  A part of me is searching for the fear, like seriously I just fell down a dark hole and now I’m watching this reaper-looking guy get close to me. I should be freaking out.

  But I’m not.

  It all feels familiar, but I don’t know why.

  “We’ve waited a long time for you.”

  Reaper guy’s voice sounds just like the voice in my head, so I’m kind of relieved to put a person to the voice, or a shape I guess. I can’t see his face, the hood’s pulled down low. Actually, I don’t think he has a face, or not one that’s normal enough to be viewed. But now every time I hear the voice in my head I’ll think of reaper man.

  “Who waited for me and who are you?”

  His arms come around him, and again I don’t see anything that’s like fingers, just long wide sleeves of the dark robe moving in front of him and meeting in the middle.

  “I am you,” he says all cryptic-like.

  It’s late, I’ve had a long day with fighting my two enemies in school, getting suspended, having a bird attack my girlfriend—or the girl I think is my girlfriend. I’m just so tired of this game.

  My frustration comes out on a sigh. “I mean do you have a name of your own?”

  “Charon.”

  I don’t really know why I thought that was going to ring a bell or clue me in to what’s going on here because, really, it doesn’t.

  “All right, Charon, what do you want with me?”

  “I want you to make the right choice.”

  “Right choice about what?”

  “You are two halves of a whole, just like he before you. He chose, but it was too late. You must choose now.”

  There’s that familiar feeling again, like I’ve been here before or at the very least this place has been described to me, this scene told to me like a bedtime story.

  “What are my choices?”

  There’s silence. Well, Charon doesn’t speak and neither do I. The water continues to ripple, echoing through the cavernous space.

  “Dark and light.”

  Then that’s an easy one. I open my mouth to speak and Charon raises one of his arms. “Look first,” he says.

  The voluminous sleeve of his robe becomes like a screen of sorts and in it I see a town, specifically buildings on a small street, then trees and a railroad track. The track is still active, as a train moves by steadily cranking its horn as it passes. It looks like a sunny day and on the hills just up from the passing train are two boys playing. One is taller, broader than the other with a mop of unruly curls. The other is slimmer with lighter hair.

  The two young boys play, tossing a football back and forth between each other. Above, the sky is a bright blue, and underneath their feet the grass a lush green. It seems like a picture out of the past, as their clothes look different. The jeans they wear are fitted, wrapped tightly around their ankles. The shoes are high-top sneakers—what we now call Chucks—and their shirts are tight and bright white. The slimmer one’s hair is slicked down on the sides, while it looks like the other one tried the same style but his hair had another idea.

  Then the scene changes as quickly as I take my next breath. The blue sky turns a dark, sickening gray, huge clouds forming right above the spot where the two boys played. Beneath them the once plush grass is swallowed, leaving behind a floor of gray ash. One of the boys, the slim one with the slicked-back hair, jumps from one foot to the other as if the ash is hot and singeing his feet. But the other one stands perfectly still. He doesn’t look particularly surprised at the change of scenery even though his partner is clearly alarmed. I could see how his eyes widened, blue-gray eyes that remind me of…Pop Pop.

  The taller boy stands with his feet slightl
y spread, his fists clenching at his sides. His wild curly hair blows in the wind and his face looks about as angry as the sky above him. He opens his mouth and yells something because the veins in his neck bulge as he does. Lightning splits the clouds like electrical currents, hitting the ground and causing it to open. Through the cracks in the ground something even more familiar appears, the slinky smoke silhouettes we’d seen after the tornado in my yard.

  There are about ten of them, all moving to form a circle around the thin light-haired boy. The other boy opens his mouth and yells again. It looks as if the entire world shakes then, the clouds, the ground, the light-haired boy who falls onto his knees. The silhouettes move in closer to the boy on his knees, then freeze. For seconds they’re perfectly still. The other boy lifts his arms, makes some sort of motion and says more words. The silhouettes look as if they’re now at attention, forming a single line and moving toward the boy with the lifted hands, the one I now realize has power over them.

  Like the closing of a door Charon’s arm falls back to his side. The vision is gone.

  Me, I’m shaking like a thief caught red-handed. Was that my grandfather? And if so, the other boy had to be his brother, William. The one with the same power as me.

  “What was that?” My voice comes out sounding like a girl’s, so I clear my throat and shift from one foot to the other.

  “It’s the past, but it can be again.”

  I’m shaking my head because his words just don’t make sense. “Was that my great-uncle? Was that William Kramer?”

  The hooded head nods. “He was the Vortex.”

  “Was? What’s a Vortex?”

  “A Vortex possesses both light and dark powers, Styx’s moon and sun energy combined with the dark power I’ve harnessed over time. A Vortex is very powerful. The former could not handle it. Now it is your turn. You must claim your destiny.”