by Valia Lind
Without a backwards look, I leave them gaping at me.
It's getting beyond frustrating, having all of these people think they know me better than I know myself. I find a tree at the back of the yard, putting my back against the bark and burying my feet in the cool ground. The weather is holding out for now, and I'm not about to pass up a chance at being outside and away from the scrutiny. It takes Brendan thirty minutes to find me. I'm surprised he holds out that long.
"You don't have to check up on me." I say when I feel him beside me. I'm more than a little ticked at him. He should know by now I don't like being discussed like some piece of merchandise. I look up, finding him grinning at me as he plops down in front of me.
"It's my job."
I know he means it in a teasing way, but the words squeeze at my heart. That's probably the real reason I'm so angry with him. I'm tired of him looking at me like I'm a nuisance.
"So I've heard."
I'm sure he can hear the bitterness in my voice, but I can't mask it. I don't need a reminder that I'm a screw up, that I've messed everything up. That I keep messing up. I want to be in control of myself, to be the Warrior he makes me out to be. The one I was. I'm not that girl anymore. Sometimes, I mourn her. The one I used to be. Can you mourn a piece of yourself you didn't know was missing? I feel him shift closer, leaning to catch a glimpse of my eyes.
"Cal, you know that's not—“
"Listen to this," I interrupt whatever apology is quick on his lips. I don't think my fragile mind can handle any more mixed emotions when it comes to Brendan. I don't need his apologies. Clearing my throat, I start to read.
"It's fuzzier today, my memories of home. I woke up sad, mourning my parent's death, but I didn't understand the thought. It's a memory in my mind that I've never lived. I know they didn't die in a boating accident, but at the same time it's a truth in my mind. It's been like that since I came through the curtain. I'm afraid I'm losing myself. I'm afraid I'll lose myself before Brendan finds me."
I stop reading, raising my eyes to meet his. What I find there is guilt and it's not the emotion I'm expecting. I think a part of me doesn't want to ask, because he clearly doesn't want me to see. But I'm past being considerate.
"Why do you look guilty?"
He's surprised by my words, as if, he too, was expecting me to back down. After a moment of silence, he springs to his feet.
"Brendan," I begin, and there is something in my voice. Some kind of a command I'm not used to giving, but it stops him cold. "Tell me why."
He looks at me as if seeing me for the first time and I wonder what exactly is written on my face that makes him succumb to my wishes. I'm on my feet in a moment's notice, reaching for him.
"Tell me."
At first, I don't think he'll budge. It's Brendan, after all. I don't see him taking orders from someone like me, but this is where I'm wrong. I know I'm wrong before the thought even finishes forming in my mind. Taking orders from me is exactly what he knows how to do best. I push that away for the time being and wait for him to surrender.
"I look guilty because I am guilty. I should've been there when you left, but I wasn't. We—we got into an argument before you were scheduled to leave and I was angry. I left. I left when I should've stayed by your side. It's my fault you don't remember."
After the words spill from his mouth like water from a waterfall, he gasps, trying to regain some composure. I guess it makes sense now, the intense drive that pushes him. He's trying to make up for a mistake of someone else's doing. I want to ask why we fought, but I don't think it's important right now. I would really appreciate one of my mind melting visions to come, preferably directed at this event, because I could use some guidance, but no dice.
I should be angry with him, but maybe that emotion has worn itself out. I feel like whatever our fight was, it wasn't as bad as it's playing out in Brendan's head. Our imaginations are often a curse to our own minds. We always make things out to be a lot worse than they really are. With all the conflicting memories twirling around in my head, I have to hold on to that truth. I can't allow myself to think otherwise.
"Brendan," I need to say something, but searching for the right words is like looking for a particular needle in a pile of needles. "Right now, it doesn't matter who's fault it is. I need to remember. We need to find the relic, and defeat the Shadowlands. That is our mission. Don't be so stuck on the mistakes of yesterday that you forget about tomorrow.
The important part is that you're here with me now and I trust you. Whatever may have happened between us no longer matters. You were the one who told me we were in this together."
I reach out, lacing my fingers with his and I can feel his heartbeat settle into a comforting rhythm. This was the burden he carried, the looks he gave me, the standoffish attitude. For the first time since meeting Brendan, I understand him on a personal level. I feel the friendship we shared, the life we lived, and it makes me smile.
"What?" he asks, his face the picture of a little embarrassed boy.
"Nothing. Sit." I tug him next to me, reaching for my journal once more. Now that we got that out of the way, there are more important things at hand. "Let's see what else I can find."
I flip through pages, while he sits quietly next to me. I feel like we've reached a new level in this relationship of ours and I can't help but smile. Before I can process that thought any further, a picture on a page catches my eye. I stop, mesmerized at the intricate design that seems to almost grow on paper. I reach out, my fingertips making contact with the ink.
Then, there is gut-wrenching agony.
I wake up with no new memories.
I guess I've come to expect coming out of these soul-shattering moments of torment with something to show for it. Apparently, not this time. I'm really getting tired of spending half of my time in a horizontal state. Just like before, Brendan is there when I open my eyes. I think we have this down to a routine by now.
"How are you feeling?"
"Like we've been here before."
I don't have any funny quips for him right now. All I have is anger at myself because I cannot seem to reach a state where I am useful. Even after all the memory flashes, after everything I have remembered, I'm no closer to finding out the truth about myself. Just more doubts and confusion.
"Did you—“
"No," I interrupt, and I see the disappointment flash in his eyes. "Where's Elizabeth?"
"She's in the kitchen, cooking dinner, I believe. She said I should let you sleep it off."
"But you just can't stay away," I smile, trying to lighten the mood and it works. If only for a second.
"Hey, you want to get out of here?" Brendan asks suddenly, and more than anything, I realize I do.
"Let's do it."
We drive out to the main street in silence and I try to wrap my mind around why I passed out in the first place. I'll have to ask Brendan about that later, because right now, both of us need an escape.
"I saw an ice cream shop when we were driving by earlier. I'm thinking we can just walk from here."
I nod and get out of the vehicle. The normalcy of this moment is what I'm craving. Brendan falls in step beside me, walking close enough that I can feel his body heat. As much as I want to pretend we're just two people taking a stroll, I can sense the tension in his every move. He's on high alert, his eyes darting in every direction. I don't sense any danger, but I'm not about to comment on it. I think he likes the role of a protector so I let him be.
I let my eyes wander over the buildings, the sense of deja vu returning full swing. Everything has changed since I've walked these streets last. The most evident of those are the signs of wear on all of the buildings. The town isn't a new one by any means, but the constant battle with weather in the recent months has definitely left its mark.
Half of the windows are boarded up, the glass cracked in places. The paint is peeling off almost all of the signs that are left standing. The places that used to house flowers an
d bushes are flooded and trampled on by the wind. Darkness hangs low on this town, seeping through the ground and falling from the sky. It's everywhere.
While I watch the people hurry from one place to the next, I have a feeling that I'm missing something here. It's a nagging at the back of my mind. Like I'm looking without actually seeing. I concentrate, listening to the sounds human ears can't hear, but I don't find anything unusual in the chatter. I hear singing though, and laughter. Lots of laughter. I freeze for a second, amazed that in all this chaos there can be this carefree laugher. It almost seems like it doesn't belong here.
Stepping around the building, I turn left, pulled by the sound. There's a park a hundred yards in front of us, stretching along the river. I register teenagers skating in the parking lot and children playing on the swings, before my eyes find the source of the laughter. There are three girls around my age lying on the bank of the river. Their bare feet are in the water, their long hair spread out around them on what's left of the grass. I take a step toward them, eager to find out what's so funny. I'm halfway there when Brendan pulls me to a stop.
"What are you doing?"
I shake my head at the fog, the sound of laughter and singing still ringing in my ears. I tear my eyes away from the girls with some difficulty, meeting Brendan's questioning gaze.
"You don't hear that?"
"What?"
"The laughter. The song."
Instantly, Brendan's eyes snap to where the girls are now dancing in the water. He watches them for a moment, before sighing and turning to face me.
"I'm sorry. That's my fault."
"What is?" I ask, but he's concentrating now. He's thinking, or maybe he's listening to the song. I've focused my full attention on him so the sound of the girls is a background noise. Whatever was pulling me toward them is gone as I watch Brendan's face for some sort of a clue. We stand like this for way too long, when I reach out and punch him in the shoulder.
"What was that for?"
"For spacing out. Now, answer my question." He glares at me, rubbing at where my fist connected and I can't help but grin. He grabs for my arm, pulling me away from the park and toward the bridge.
"Brendan!" I grumble, when he continues dragging me after him. We head away from the laughter, but I can't help and turn my attention to the sound once more. The laughter sounds like a melody now, a sweet lullaby that brings a smile to my face. Why does it make me want to dance--so much?
"Cal—“ he pulls me out of the noise. "Focus on me."
I nod, taking a calming breath and pull my hearing in.
"I'm sorry. I didn't realize there were others like us here. I keep forgetting you're not as equipped to deal with majyk as you were."
"What do you mean?" I know there's venom in my voice, but I don't exactly appreciate him reminding me that I'm defective. I get to do that all on my own. I'm no longer interested in the girls and their song, I'm glaring daggers at Brendan. He takes a step forward at my tone, surprising me.
"I mean, you're responding to our world the way humans do. Those girls over there are nymphs. Water nymphs by the looks of them. Typically, they don't even come out of the water, but I guess the recent flooding has changed things for them. Anyway, their song is like the song of the sirens. They don't pull you in to destroy you, but once you're in, you want to stay. That can be just as bad."
"So, I was—“
"Hypnotized. You shouldn't have been, but you were. I heard their song, but it didn't sound special to me. It didn't hold any kind of a pull. That's because I've been raised to resist the song of the hypnosis. Just like you were when we were younger. You did the same thing with Leshy, remember?"
"So what exactly does that mean?" I'm walking now, walking away from the sound. What Brendan is telling me horrifies me. I don't want to be hypnotized. I don't want to be pulled in by magical creatures. That leaves me vulnerable. It leaves me open for attack.
"It means that your instincts are highly, I don't know, human? Your reactions are unguarded."
"Brendan," I halt, my hand reaching out to stop him as well, "does that mean I'm becoming human?"
22
It's close to midnight and I'm sitting in the grass at the back of Elizabeth's house.
The question I asked Brendan hours ago still races inside my head. Am I becoming human? Is that even possible? Brendan said I wasn't, but his reassurances didn't ring as true as they should. There’s something wrong with me and it has nothing to do with my memory lapse.
We finished our walk in near silence. Apparently, there are various creatures residing here, more than should be congregating in the same spot. He pointed out a few more nymphs walking out of a store, and a kelpie when we crossed the bridge to go back to our car. It's as if they're hiding from what's going on in their world. I tried asking Brendan about it, but he just told me not to worry. He always tells me not to worry. Which actually makes me worry a lot more.
I've read over the journal as much as I could stand. The words are blurring together in a string of unidentifiable mess. There are too many blank pages in between entries for me to actually have a solid lead. I don't know if I did that on purpose or if it's another magic trick. I'm pushing myself to remember, but instead, it feels like parts of me are locking up, shutting down. Today, when I was pulled by the song of the rivers, I felt like a failure and that feeling has not gone away.
Punching the ground beside me, I fall back into the grass to stare at the sky. With my newfound vision, every star is brighter, closer, as if I can reach out and touch it.
Just like my memories.
I grab for my journal and hold it over my head, opening it to the page with the strange symbol. I still don't know what it means, and Brendan isn't providing any helpful information, but the pull to this page is like the pull of the song. I'm afraid of it because of what happened earlier, but I need it because my skin hums with electricity every time it's near.
Turning my head to the side, I study the house from where I lay. The lights are on, and I can hear Elizabeth moving around the kitchen. Concentrating a bit more, I can hear Brendan closer to the front of the house, the sound of his hands running in frustration through his hair an indisputable signature. My heart squeezes in response to his obvious distress because I know part of it has nothing to do with me, and everything to do with the situation. We're in the same boat there.
Sitting up, I place the journal on my lap, studying the baroque lines. This is definitely the journal that the page I found at my dorm came from. But that doesn't provide any useful information. The highly extravagant style of the design is old and breathtaking. It's as if the lines are braided together, then braided again, in a semi circle that doesn't look like it's finished. I shift a bit so I'm sitting more comfortably, and then, as if my hands move of their own doing, I'm reaching for the page.
Pain is instantaneous. The journal falls from my fingers as the pain takes root. I cry out, grabbing for the burning sensation that spreads through the left side of my body. Brendan is there in the blink of an eye, appearing beside me on the ground.
"Cali, what's happening? What's wrong?"
I expect to pass out, but I don't. The burning centers on my left hip, and my fingers reach to claw at it. Brendan grabs my hands, stilling them in his own as I gasp.
"Let me go!"
I writhe in agony, the need to tear at my own skin overpowering my senses. I kick at Brendan, but he's stronger. He's on top of me before I can recover, pinning me to the grass with his body. He yanks my hands over my head, keeping me immobile, yet not hurting me. The hurt is coming from whatever is happening to my skin.
"Get it out. Get it out of me!"
I'm screaming, the pain intensifying with every breath. Brendan drops his hands from my wrist, sitting up in one move. I grab on to the grass, letting the cooling effect from the earth spread through me. Majyk explodes out of me and into the ground and I feel it rushing into me from below. Just as suddenly as the pain came, it sweeps out o
f my body.
Brendan stares at me with that fear I've noticed before and I'm just as terrified. There is too much power inside of me, too much for one person to carry, and it came from within.
"May I?" Brendan asks, and all I can do is nod, biting my lips from crying out again. Tentatively, I feel his fingers on my stomach, pulling the shirt away from my flushed skin. His touch has a calming affect on my body, and I exhale, keeping myself still while he finishes his exploration. I know the moment he finds something.
I open my eyes and find his focused on my hip. I can't see what he's looking at from my vantage point, his hands are still on my skin. I sit up, reaching over to move his hand away. When I do, my breath catches but I can't be distracted by the way he feels.
He entwines my fingers with his as I sit up more fully to look down at my hip. There, as if it's been there the whole time, is a tattoo the size of a half a dollar. It's the same design from the pages of my diary. Except this time, the circle is complete. The lines are beautifully woven, the ink white instead of black. Brendan's fingers trace over the pattern, sending goosebumps over my already flushed skin. My eyes meet his and I ask the question on both of our minds,
"What does this mean?"
Whatever answer Brendan might've given is interrupted by Elizabeth.
"Both of you, get in here now!" She yells, before disappearing back inside the house.
Brendan hauls me to my feet and we sprint for the back doors. As the door shuts behind me, a loud grinding noise shatters the quiet of the woods and I turn just in time to see the trees bending by some unfathomable force.
"Get away from the door!" Brendan grabs me around the waist, spinning me away from the windows. He grabs my hand, pulling me behind him as we head to where Elizabeth is. She's standing by the front door, her hands on the outline above the doorframe. She runs her fingers over it, muttering a few words, and the lines glow. I don't want to break her concentration, so I wait until she's finished.
