by A. K. Koonce
He laughs at her ill attempt, holding his stomach as she mock pouts over her loss. “Maybe next time,” he says in a good spirit.
They’re … odd together.
Johnny notices me watching them, his smile drifting from his lips.
He doesn’t treat her the way he does other women. I’ve seen him with other women, and he isn’t this nice. Ever. I shift on my feet as Lucas weaves his way past me, trading spots with Johnny.
“You want a beer while I’m up?” Johnny asks us.
I shake my head and Lucas says no, not even looking at him as he hurriedly sets up his game pieces. I’ve never seen Lucas drink a day in his life. He probably never will. As humans, there are things we irrationally fear. Not for what they are, but for who we are.
“Come outside,” Johnny says to me as he walks out of the room.
Begrudgingly, I push off from the wall I was leaning against and follow him to the door. Johnny wants privacy for a reason, and I’m not sure I want to know why. I weave past a couple of guys whose names I don’t know, one of whom I rescued last year. I give him a subtle nod as I walk by and out into the cool night air. Johnny grabs two beers from a cooler on the ground and closes the door behind me.
He offers me one, as if he doesn’t care if I take it or not, and we both drink quietly for a few minutes listening to the leaves against the wind and the laughter from within. It should be relaxing, but it’s not. There’s a reason he invited me outside, distancing us from the rest of the group. My spine is tense as I wait for him to reveal whatever it is he has to say.
“Did I ever tell you I had an older sister?”
I shake my head. Johnny and I have had lifetimes of simple conversations just like this, but he’s never mentioned where he came from and I don’t ask.
“We looked alike, kind of. Her hair was long and blonde and her face … it was like looking into the face of innocence.” He looks up at the sky.
My stomach sinks, thinking about how much Alexandra fits that description.
“What happened to her?”
I shouldn’t ask, but I can’t help it. For whatever reason, I’m already comparing his sister to Alexandra, and I have to know if she was okay. If things turned out good for her.
“I don’t know.” His voice is barely audible. “If I had to guess, I’m sure I’d be right. I left her there alone, and I came here. I escaped.”
The corners of his mouth are pulled down so hard I think he might never smile again. A cool breeze is felt, and his pale hair is pushed from his face. He takes another long drink before turning toward me.
“Don’t mess up her life, Remy.” He gives me a long glaring look before finally walking past me and going back inside without even glancing my way.
I trail in behind him, my stomach in knots as I enter the hut.
“You’re cheating!” Alexandra shouts as she smiles at Lucas who throws up his hands defensively.
“You really think I have the balls to cheat the Princess of England?”
“The kid’s not smart enough to cheat,” Johnny pipes up. “You’re just a terrible chess player,” he says to Alexandra, bumping his elbow teasingly against hers.
They all erupt into laughter, finding happiness after all their lives of sorrow.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
An Angel
Remy
The days on the Island pass, but they aren’t nearly as dull as they were before. The sun drifts into the night almost too quickly now, escaping into the shadows to conclude another day.
I spend every second I can with Alexandra; I don’t struggle with what I should be doing or what I want to do. I just do what feels natural and makes me happy. She makes me happy. I’ve lived centuries, and I’ve never felt this way in my life. This light, nervous, excited, heart-pounding feeling has become my normal state of being. It’s possible everything I know is changing, that somewhere between life and death is love.
I’m taking her home at the end of the week. I haven’t told her and I’m not sure how I’ll get her there, but I’ve decided to tell her before the end of the night.
Tonight Alexandra and I stand outside her hut, the straps of her white sun dress cling her damp skin. We spent the day swimming and talking and I surprisingly kept my hands to myself.
Until now.
My demanding hands grip her waist tightly, pulling her flush against me, her slender hips fitting nicely against mine. The moon shines down on her through the tree, lightening her hair, turning her beauty into an ethereal image.
“Why do you hate Johnny?” she asks in a whisper as if the moon might hear us. It’s late and most of the islanders are safely tucked away in their small huts, leaving only the two of us together.
I lean my head against hers, sighing as I consider her question. She smirks sweetly up at me, her fingers busily playing with the collar of my jacket, skimming my neck from time to time.
“I don’t hate Johnny. Not at all.”
“Certainly seems like you do.”
I smile at her, my lips almost brushing hers, unable to help the warm feeling she gives me.
“I was worried about his interest in you at first. I thought he would hurt you … I was wrong.”
She nods, her smile becoming serious for a moment as her eyes look toward the ground. A look pulls at her features, a look that the confident princess so rarely reveals. But like everyone else, she too feels it – insecurity. “I’ve never had anyone worry about me.” A shy whisper of a voice is all she seems to have tonight.
My heart plummets in a fit of anger and sadness for her. My hands that were so ready to undress her seconds ago want nothing more than to comfort her. They slide from her hips to her back, and I pull her into a hug—the first real hug I’ve given anyone in my entire life.
She buries her head in my chest, and I breathe in her long blonde hair. My lips brush against her temple lightly. I want to protect her, and I want to push her away from this place entirely.
Instead I choose to hold her in my arms a little longer.
***
“Cali said she wasn’t feeling well, so it’s just me and you today,” Alexandra says as she leans into me, our hands joined between us as we eat our lunch at a picnic table. The polished wood is as sturdy as the day they were made, not a crack or rusted nail blemishes the table. It’s as pristine and perfect as everything on Resurrection Island.
My free hand drifts around her waist, unintentionally wrapping myself around her as much as possible.
Just me and her. What a shame. Cali’s a fucking saint; I knew I liked her for a reason. I rest my head against Alexandra’s, and her eyes shine knowingly into mine. Are we really that like-minded?
A smile pulls at the corner of my lips. As I look across the lunch area, my eyes lock on to purple irises and my happiness is smothered out of me.
Felicity’s eyes glimmer excitedly as she watches me, her pale skin glowing ethereally under the bright gleam of sunlight. Alexandra munches on her sandwich, oblivious to the painful fear growing in my chest.
The Priestess is happy.
Felicity’s gaze travels from me to Alexandra. She nods approvingly at the sight of us wrapped around each other. She walks slowly around the perimeter, entirely unnoticed by the other Islanders. Can they see her?
“I’m growing tired of waiting, Remington.”
Her voice whispers to me through the breeze as if she’s standing right at my side. My heart pounds in my ears as I watch her speak to only me through the busy crowd. The ends of her dark dress flow behind her like the wind is at her mercy, carrying the train of her long gown for her.
“I want an answer in two days’ time, or I’ll decide for her.” My lips part, but I don’t dare speak. “Two days, Remington.”
The air grows wild and whips around us, the Priestess’ long hair twirling in the peculiar wind. Then she’s gone, her body disappearing entirely within the crowd, as if she was never there to start with.
“Are you all right
?” Alexandra asks, looking up at me with concern in her eyes.
I stand abruptly, knocking over my plate as I go. My sandwich falls forgotten into the dirt at my feet.
I need help. Right now. I need to talk to someone who knows how to fix this shit.
My mind streams information, trying to find an answer within the mess I’ve made.
Who the hell can help with this? Who’s been here long enough to know how? Someone who knows how to deal with Felicity …
***
“I was wondering how long it’d take your cluster fuck to combust.”
Johnny’s smile is that of an adolescent who just outsmarted his parents. He leans against a corner desk littered with parchment paper that appears older than the centuries I’ve lived. The captain’s quarters of the Pyxis are larger than mine. It’s the first time I’ve been in here. I’ve never had a need to enter his quarters before. Until now.
“What makes you think there’s a problem?” I ask, casually folding my arms across my chest as I lean against the oak door.
He arches an eyebrow in disbelief and waits for me to spill my guts.
“Felicity wants Alexandra to choose to stay on the Island. She wants her to become a Savior.”
Johnny nods as he crosses one ankle over the other, thinking through my statement. He continues to lean leisurely as if we have all the time in the world to think about her life.
And he does. He has all the time in the world. Nothing is urgent in his eternally youthful mind because life happens slowly for him. Torturously slow.
“Do you know the tale of how Resurrection came to be?” he asks as he stares at the floorboards of the old ship.
I blink rapidly. I understand nothing is urgent to this boy, but does he really feel now is the time for story hour?
“Do you?” he asks again.
“No, Johnny, I don’t,” I say, hoping he’ll make it quick.
“When I was a boy, there was an earthquake. Something that shook all the corners of the world, or so I’m told. It was unnatural, like our planet might split in two from the force. Years went by, and people forgot about the quake that threatened to tear our world apart. I had forgotten. In my adolescent mind, it was only a blip in my miserable timeline.”
His crystal blue eyes bore into mine, grief glinting in his irises, shining from the rays of light in the room as he speaks. I know his tale will most definitely not be quick.
“I had all but forgotten, until one night an angel visited me in my room, in the cellar where I lived. I was a hostage to a man I still see every night in my nightmares.”
A chill runs down my spine as he speaks.
“The glowing white angel's name was Felicity. She was beautiful, and the essence of eternity clung to her. She saved me from my hell and brought me here.” He pauses. The distinct clipped accent of his still echoing in my mind. “I lived alone on the Island with her for … I don’t even know how long … years, maybe decades. It felt endless. I was a servant, so very similar to the life I lived before. It took me less than a day to realize she was no angel, despite her outward beauty. Despite saving me.”
Venom drips into everything he says. I listen to the young boy, hanging on to every word I was so reluctant to hear.
“After a while, her affection for me dwindled. She trusted me and cared for me in a sadistically strange way, a way I was used to, and even craved.” He doesn’t look at me. “But she grew weak alone on the Island, feeding off the limited, abused emotions I knew how to feel. We were both near dead when she suggested I leave to bring her more … victims. They’re not Survivors, or even people. They’re just victims. Alexandra will be another victim if you allow her to stay.” Anger floods his face when he meets my eyes, his gaze burning into mine.
“I’m not going to let her stay. I won’t,” I say, trying to find conviction in my words.
His jaw tics as he studies me. What does he see?
Weakness?
“She’s different. She’s … my friend,” he says quietly as if just now realizing it. “Felicity gave me something all those years ago. Something she asked me to keep safe for her. Something I study from time to time as I think.”
He kicks off from his spot against the desk, papers fluttering as he strides to the other side of the room. He opens a trunk. Old, peeling political stickers in red, white, and black haphazardly decorate the front of it.
He pulls something from the trunk. Silence settles around us as he stares at the object in his hands. My heart drills through my chest when he turns to me, revealing what she gave to him for safe keeping centuries ago.
A long, curved dagger lays in his palms. The hilt is a dark metallic material, the same color as the blade. Along the surface are symbols, identical to the symbols within the Grievance Grave. It shines in the setting sunlight that filters into the room.
I want to grab it up, but in the same breath, I want to run far, far away from this thing. The symbols of an ancient language whisper in my ear, through my mind, chanting demandingly.
“She gave it to me to protect myself in case anything else ever crawled through the portals of The Valhalla Ruins. The other island used to be a sort of crossover between life and death. A median between one world and the next.” A blankness fills his tired eyes. “It was so long ago, when it was just us. Before she destroyed the shadow and the light portals, destroying the true purpose of this world.” A worried sigh escapes him as he glances back down at the dagger. “The thing might not even work anymore; I don’t know.”
But it does. It’s as much alive as I am. Something within it pulses wildly beneath the glinting blade. It hums with an incessant flow of words I hope I never understand. Johnny stares wistfully at the dagger, a sentimental look now twisting into hatred.
“Tell Alexandra to leave and to never think of this place for the rest of her beautifully short, mortal life. When you inform Felicity, don’t back down. Give her anything she wants, but I swear you’d better not give her that girl,” Johnny says as he hands me the blade.
The chanting ceases when the dagger touches my palms, as if it’s at peace in my possession.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
You Should Leave
Alexandra
He pulled me from my bed in the middle of the night and brought me into his bed like he couldn’t stand to be away from me. Or like he might never see me again …
The alternative thought settles heavily in my lungs, restricting my breathing. I push the thought away though as he pulls me against his side. My cheek rests against his warm chest, listening to the even sounds of his tired breaths.
The panes of his stomach hold my attention, begging to be touched. I sneak a glance up to his closed eyes as I trail my index finger down the lines of his tan abdomen. He tenses beneath my touch, and I look back up at him to find his eyes watching me.
Feeling brave, I steady my hand and travel lower. An anxious part of me anticipates his reaction as I clench my thighs together.
But he stops my exploring, holding my hand warmly in his as he brushes his thumb back and forth against my skin.
I search the shadows of the small room, snuggling deeper in the covers and into his safe embrace. My tired mind calms and my thoughts begin drift away from me as he holds me.
A shuddering breath fills his lungs, jostling me slightly with the tense movement. “I think you should leave.”
My eyes widen at his stark admission, and my heart stops for what must be minutes. I sit up, peeling myself away from him and trying to distance my thoughts from my feelings.
“Oh.” I hate that I say that. I hate that he takes all the angry words I should have right now and replaces them with sadness and uncertainty.
Because I thought he wanted me. Here. With him.
“Shit, no. I don’t mean –” He sits up with me, wrapping his arms around my waist and leaning his head against my shoulder. He takes a breath and meets my eyes, his face shadowed to me as the moon light falls around him, blanketing
him in the soft muted hues gray and white. “I mean, you shouldn’t be here on Resurrection. No one should, least of all you. I want us to leave. I want to leave, and I want you to say you’ll come with me.”
He’s … pleading. This strong and demanding man is pleading with me.
I search his eyes, his enormous eyes that are assessing me as I assess him.
If I left this place and went with him, we’d be tied to each other for the rest of our lives. I wait for the shock and anxiety that should follow my thoughts, but it never comes.
“Where would we go?” A hesitant smile crosses my face at the thought of being with him for … forever.
He exhales loudly, the fear falling from his face under the demands of the wide and beautiful grin now consuming him.
He kisses me hard on the lips, his palm spans across stomach, pulling me closer to him. He breaks the kiss and mumbles against me, “Anywhere. Name a date and place and we’ll go. Where ever you want to go, love.”
He quickly kisses me again. My fingers thread through his thick hair as I turn to face him, sitting up in the bed before him. He pulls my hips against him as he deepens the kiss, his tongue slipping over mine in a deliciously slow pace.
He turns us in one swift move until I’m flat on my back and his weight is settled perfectly above me, his hardness pressing demandingly against me.
My heart pounds anxiously for the future, for the future in the next few intimate minutes and hours tonight, and for our future days and years to come.
For the future with this amazing man.
CHAPTER NINETEEN
The Next Victim
Remy
“I want to leave,” I say in an unwavering voice, holding the glowing gaze of my Priestess.
The dagger Johnny gave me is sheathed within my weapons belt, hidden beneath my jacket. The moment I stepped foot into the temple it burned painfully into my side. Can she sense it the way it senses her?
“You do, do you?” she asks as uninterested as possible, as if we’re speaking about the weather. The unsettling image of a cat playing with a dead mouse crosses my mind.
