by Valia Lind
"Are you sure you're feeling up to it?" He asks, after a moment of silence.
I glance up at him as he sits on the bed, watching me carefully. He looks different somehow, as if I’ve put on a pair of glasses and he’s sharper than I’ve ever seen before. I must be losing my mind. Frustrated, I run a hand over my face, pushing at the hair that's fallen in the front.
"Oh, I'm more than ready. Start talking, Parnell."
He raises his eyebrows at my tone, but doesn't comment. Instead, he levels me with his gaze and asks, "What do you remember?"
Not what I expected. If I was steady enough on my own I would stop gripping this chair and cross my arms in front of me to give him a visual representation of just how annoyed I am at the moment.
"What I remember," I begin, putting all of the annoyance into my voice, "Is being approached by two incredibly strange and big men at a college party, who asked me about things I've never heard of, in a language I don’t speak, before trying to murder me and all my friends. I'm not done," I say, when Brendan opens his mouth to speak.
"The crazy looking things, yes things not people, because there is no way those creatures were human, which raises all kinds of other different questions, threatened me. Those creatures then chased me down an alley which you magically appeared in to drag me unto a roof, where you pulled a sword out of thin air and made me slice open the said creatures before they too magically disappeared. Did I miss anything?"
Brendan opens his mouth to reply, but I interrupt again. " Oh yeah. They cut me." I remember suddenly, and glance down to find my arm wrapped. Brendan must've done it while I was out. I'll have to remember to thank him for that later, if he doesn't turn out to be some crazy knife-wielding stalker. Feeling slightly better after getting that out of my system, I allow myself to cross my arms and glare at the boy sitting in front of me.
"Oh, am I allowed to talk now?" he asks, raising an eyebrow at my expectant look.
"I don't appreciate the tone, but yes, please." I reply, not breaking my stance. I'm not sure where all this strength is coming from, but I'm holding onto it for dear life. I rather be this then a blubbering mess, curled up in the corner. So as long as I can, I will hold on to the annoyance, and yes, the anger.
"First of all, the creatures, as you call them, are the minions of the Shadowlands. They serve as soldiers to the darkness. As I'm sure you could tell, they don't exactly fit the standard profile of magical creatures, what with all the different pieces of species stitched up together to make one. As far as we know, they've been scientifically modified. We're not exactly sure by whom."
I want to interrupt and tell him that he's crazy, but surprisingly, I hold my tongue. Doesn't stop him from seeing my intentions, because he gives me a knowing smile before continuing on.
"What they’re looking for is Znaniye, which in loose translation means The Knowledge, and it is the center of our wisdom. It holds the power of the majyk, which is our inheritance. Not only that, it holds many of the secrets our kind has guarded for centuries. Like how to get in and out of the human realm without detection. That's a big one on the list and a power the Shadowlands want."
"I'm sorry, magic? You're talking about magic. Oh, I must have hit my head when I fell."
I turn away, trying to process what he's telling me but the logical parts of me refuse to believe what is staring me right in the face.
I mean, obviously something supernatural is going on considering I just fought with a blasted sword, but still. Stuff like this doesn't exactly happen in real life. I twist to tell Brendan that and find that he's no longer on the bed but right behind me. I fight the reflex to yelp and take a calming breath instead.
"I know it's hard to understand—“
"Believe."
"Ok, it's hard to believe what I'm telling you, but I know for a fact that there is a part of you that feels like this is the ultimate truth."
"You're not serious, right?"
Even as I protest, I know he is. And he is right. Some part of me is shouting to stop being stubborn and accept the truth. But I'm a rational human being, I'm a History major for goodness sake. I like my facts cut and dry and laid out in front of me. A to B to C. Magic is nowhere near the alphabet.
"Calista," Brendan interrupts my thoughts, taking a step forward and bringing himself dangerously close. "You have to try and remember who and what you are. I can tell you anything you like, but until you make a conscious decision to reach inside yourself and unlock the secrets buried there, it won't be of much help."
I close my eyes against his gentle voice, trying to force down the bubbling emotion racing to the surface within me, and turn away. His words are like keys to the doors I didn't know I had to open. I know I have to ask the question, but I'm terrified. It wasn’t the monsters or the fighting that finally bring that emotion to the surface. For the first time in my life, I'm genuinely terrified.
But that feeling, like so many I've experienced in the last hour, is not overwhelming. I expect it to be, and yet, I seem to have some control over it and I don't understand why. There's nothing left to do but ask.
"What—what am I?" the words come out whispered, but I hear them echoing off the walls in this small room. I feel Brendan's heat behind me as he takes a step closer, surrounding me in his presence. I wait, for what seems like hours, as he takes a deep breath before finally, finally answering.
"You are a Volshebnitsa, from the house of Afanasyev."
4
For some reason, I expected those words to do something to me. Maybe set off some inner alarm that would tell me that this is what I am. But there's a bottomless pit inside of me.
"I'm sorry, I'm a what?"
I ask, trying to wrap my mind around the foreign words. There is no way anything he just said actually makes any freaking sense. I stare at him, daring him to take the words back, to come up with some other kind of an explanation, but he just stares right back. There’s a flicker of disappointment in his gaze and I feel it on my skin like an imprint. For some reason, I don’t want to disappoint him.
"Brendan, those didn't even sound like words." I finally say, placing my hands on my hips.
"Sure they are. Just not English ones."
I throw my hands in the air, as a loud groan escapes my lips. Taking a calming breath, I move a step toward him.
"Explain. Now." I demand, crossing my arms in front of me.
"You really have no idea what I'm talking about?" He's daring me to contradict him, but I can't. I'm too focused on keeping myself sane at the moment. I shake my head, waiting for him to continue, to make some kind of sense out of everything that's been happening to me.
"I was hoping it would trigger your memories."
"What do you mean, memories?" I bypass his disappointing tone, wishing he'd just stop giving me half answers. "I'm not missing any memories."
"You are. You just don't know it."
He watches me for another second before he takes a deep breath, pushing the sadness in his gaze away. He puts on his Brendan mask back on, the emotions once again in check. I've noticed the way he controls himself often, but never so blatantly before. I don't know what to make of him.
"Okay, I'll give you the very short version." He begins. "Alexander Afanasyev was a collector of Russian fairy tales. He's like the European Grimm brothers. However, Grimm brothers were human, while Alexander was not. He was a volshebnik, a type of majykal higher being, the keeper of our knowledge and a warrior. You are a descendant of him and that's why you’re in the possession of Znaniye. Sorry, The Knowledge. It’s why you are the current Protector."
He takes my hand as he talks, pulling me into his words with that simple contact. I study him and images of a similar situation, but both of us a lot younger, flash through my mind. Same messy dark hair, eyes full of focus. The imagine brings a step of pain into my head but the question is on my lips before I can think much about it.
"How do I know you?"
He drops my arm as if it's on
fire, moving away. It's my turn to be the one to reach out, stopping him before he can make it across the room. He's no longer meeting my gaze and now I know for a fact there's more to what he's telling me.
"Brendan?"
"It doesn't matter how you know me, what matters is that they found you, which means we have to move. It's our job to protect the Knowledge and if they find it before we do, all will be lost." His words ring true, on some unconscious level, but I still refuse to be pulled into the ridiculousness of the whole situation.
"Alright, let's say I believe you. No," I tug on his arm, keeping him in place when he tries to move away, "What does this have to do with me being a—umm,"
"Volshebnitsa?"
"Yes, that."
I'm acutely aware of the fact that my hand is still on his arm and that my pulse is beating at the speed of a hummingbird on crack, but I'm not letting go. This physical manifestation of him next to me is what's keeping me grounded. He seems to gauge exactly how I'm feeling because his other hand reaches out, taking my palm into his own. The feeling is different from where I'm holding on to him, a lot more gentle and somehow, all the more important. He entwines his fingers with my own, guiding me gently back to the bed. We sit, hands woven together and I wait for him to speak.
"You being a volshebnitsa is what makes you the best at what you do. You are from the Family of Warriors. Your specialty, as you would say, is a Protector. You've been trained, from early on, to guard the relics of our existence from those who want to use them for their own gain. You're one of the strongest, fastest, bravest of volshebnits."
I'm watching his face, waiting for a spark of unease to appear, any indication that he's making this up, but it's not there. His face is gentle but firm, his words truer than the truth. Maybe I'm losing my mind. That could explain a lot. But even as I think that, something in me prevents the thought from taking root.
"You're not crazy."
"How did you—“ I tug my hand back, but he's holding fast. His mouth moves up in a half smile that I find alluring and I want to kick myself. I can't be pulled in by that gorgeous face or his mischievous smile. I know he uses them as a weapon, I've seen it. Everything about him is precise: the epitome of the tall, dark and handsome, and even his good looks are used for his benefit. I'm not sure why the thought comes, but it stays.
"It's not hard to read you, Calista."
He says my name like it's the sweetest word he's ever spoken. I'm suddenly afraid he can see all kinds of things written on my face.
"Well, stop it." This time when I try to retract my hand, he lets me. I stand, stopping just a few feet in front of him.
"But I like doing it." He replies, clearly looking to lighten the situation.
"I'm sure you do."
Where is this conversation going? I feel the heat rising up my neck and into my cheeks, and I'm sure I'm flashing red. I can't help it. I'm losing ground here and now I must backpedal before this turns into something else entirely. When I turn to face him head on I'm afraid it already has. There's a full blown grin on his lips, the self-satisfied look plainly displayed. Now, instead of kicking myself, I'd like to kick him.
"This is besides the point." I state, trying to regain some footing. "The point is—“ My words freeze somewhere at the back of my throat as he's suddenly standing right in front of me, his body just a breath away.
"What is the point?" he asks, his voice a low seductive rumble in his chest. I think I'd forget to breathe, if I could remember how to think.
"Umm, the point is—how did you do that? You were sitting one moment, standing in front of me the next. You did the same thing when I tried to leave earlier. You move way too fast."
"Just one of the perks of being majykal."
He shrugs, as if it's no big deal, and I guess to him it's not. Up until this exact moment I didn't even realize that he may be one too. The magical name he called me earlier. My mind is not having a good day trying to understand it all. It's too much and not enough, all at the same time.
"Don't look so surprised, sweets. You did see me pull the sword out of thin air."
"Don't call me that." I snap, moving back to try and put some distance between us, while his words travel like passengers on a train over my skin. Everything he does or says seems so much more real than anything before him. It's as if there was translucent film over my eyes this whole time and his words have finally lifted it, bringing the world into sharper focus.
Not that any of it actually makes sense to me.
"Alright, Calista. Now that you have some answers, we need to get out of here." My brain snaps to attention and I can't believe, that even for a moment, I forgot why we were in this dinky hotel room in the first place.
"Where exactly are we going?" I ask, apprehensive once more as I study the boy in front of me.
"You're coming to my house."
And that’s that.
We leave the hotel room behind us, moving quickly down the road, Brendan's eyes flicking all around us.
He's tense, his body on full alert and my own responds in kind. I find myself seeing things I've never seen before, recognizing sounds I haven't paid any attention to previously. I try to shake the noise away, but it just grows louder. I can hear an argument on the other side of the building and a car peeling out of the parking lot at the gas station on the other side of the street. My gaze finds the noises, seeing the pictures play out in front of me with clarity, as if it's the middle of the day. The sound intensifies as the car speeds away, my hands rising to grip at my head.
"Brendan?" I call to the boy ahead of me, freezing in my tracks. He turns on full alert, because my voice is full of panic I can't mask, but when his eyes find mine, I see the understanding flash there. I must look terrified, because understanding is replaced by concern in the next moment.
"Hey," he comes back to my side, his eyes watching me carefully. "Are you okay?"
I shake my head no, because how do I explain to him that I can see the faint scar on his neck as if there's a beam shining a light on it. The rugged edges of where a blade must have sliced him are as visible to me as if I was studying them under a microscope. How do I tell him I can hear the people in the building across from us arguing about what show to watch? Tearing my gaze away from his neck, I focus on the ground instead, searching for some kind of control. Something solid to hold on to.
"It's your vision, right? And sound?"
My head jerks up, my focus colliding with his intense gaze and I notice for the first time the flecks of gold in his ocean blue eyes. They're deeper than I've ever seen, a color so rich it would make my head spin, if it wasn't spinning already.
"You're seeing things brighter and clearer. More focused."
"How do you know?" I almost whisper, because maybe, just maybe, I'm not completely losing it. I fight the urge to place my hands over my ears, to shut my eyes against the light that is way too bright for a moon. He reaches for my hand, and the contact instantly smooths the racing emotions within me.
"Because that's how I see. Your majyk is finally reawakening, the powers that are rightfully yours are reemerging."
"Powers?"
"Yes, Calista. You are a magical creature. Having powers is kind of in the job description."
"It's too much, Brendan. And why now?" I manage to ask. His eyes dart around us, checking to see if we're still safe before he replies.
"When I told you of your true heritage, you should've remembered everything. But whatever went wrong, must keep you from remembering. However, your body doesn't seem to have the same limitations. It's remembering for you."
"There's more of this?" I ask, raising my voice and instantly cringe at the sound.
"Trust me, once you're back to one hundred percent, you'll love it."
I give him a little smile, determined to work through this and the concern in his eyes fades. Instead, he gives me a proud grin which warms my insides. Shrugging out of his jacket, he places it around my shoulders, pushing my hands
through the sleeves. I look at him surprised at this little show of affection.
"You're barely dressed. I think you need it more than I do." He says, shrugging sheepishly.
"Thank you."
Two words are pretty much all I can manage because his proximity is once again playing with my emotions. He watches me for a pregnant second before reaching down and taking my hand in his. The gesture is familiar and frightening at the same time, but I don't pull away. I focus on the small act of normalcy and allow my breathing to even out.
"Are you okay for right now?" he asks, studying me in that unnerving way of his. I look around me, centering my focus on the feel of Brendan's hand on mine and find that I am. The noises and sights are there, but as long as I stay calm, they don't bombard me from every side.
"For now." I reply, because it's the honest truth.
"Come on. Let's go then."
I allow him to lead me away from the hotel and the gas station as my mind wanders to all that I've heard so far. While it may seem unrealistic, I can't deny the solidity behind Brendan's words or my own responses to them. He's not crazy and neither am I. That much I know for a fact.
Now, I just need to figure out what to do with that information.
We walk a few more moments in silence and I can't help but cringe at the noises I'm hearing around me. There's a TV on in almost every apartment we've passed. The sound of all of them at once is disorienting. How I'm supposed to get used to this is beyond me, but I guess it's just another thing to add to my never ending list of questions.
I hear thunder start up somewhere in the sky and jump at the noise.
Feeling a slight tug on my hand, I look up to find Brendan watching me. He gives me a small encouraging smile and I let out the breath I didn't know I was holding.
