by Carol Oates
Sebastian stepped out of the shadows again with his fingers curled up into tight balls by his side, one hand methodically tapping on his thigh. His face was a blank, expressionless mask, showing no trace of emotion. He crossed the room in a couple of long strides and plucked one of the pillows from the end of the bed, propping himself against the wall where he was sitting when Candra woke up. It reminded her that he hadn’t actually used the door to come in, since she had been lying against it when she woke.
By the way he crossed his long legs at his ankles and his arms across his chest, it appeared that the conversation she hadn’t wanted to start in the first place was now over.
“You’re not staying in here!” Candra informed him, shocked that it appeared to be his intention.
“Look what happened the last time I left you alone,” he said.
“Excuse me for going to a party and acting like a human being,” she huffed, fluffing pillows again needlessly.
“You’re not human, Candra. So until you start acting like you understand what that means, I’m staying here.”
It was the first time anyone had directly acknowledged what she knew already to be true: She wasn’t human—at least not entirely, because she was pretty sure her birth mother was. She wasn’t sure if Sebastian’s admission was intentional or not, but it was there.
He reached into his pocket and pulled out a small silver iPod, simultaneously searching the files and placing the small bud in his ears.
“You like music?” She didn’t know why it surprised her; every time he did anything the least bit human, it surprised her.
“I’m not a Neanderthal, Candra. I’m probably not at all what you think I am.” He didn’t look up to her, but she saw him wince at his own words before he closed his eyes and settled himself as if to sleep.
“So this is it, then? You’re going to be my own private creepy stalker from now on?”
“If that’s what it takes to keep you safe,” he answered without moving.
“Is this really about keeping me safe or about you not wanting to share your sandbox with the others?”
His eyes snapped open, blazing with anger, and his nostrils flared with each deep breath. Five—it took five long, deep breaths while she looked at him. Then he fluffed and plumped the pillow harshly behind his head a couple of times before returning to his previous position.
She didn’t deliberately aggravate him; she just hated how he referred to her as a little girl. Sure, he had been around forever, but she didn’t really believe that was why he wanted to keep her snugly in a box labeled “little girl.” Candra believed Sebastian was afraid that she was going to make decisions and that those decision would be wrong in his eyes. Seeing his more vulnerable side at the party and in her bedroom gave her a slight thrill. It reminded her that she actually wasn’t alone. In his own bizarre way, Sebastian might even be trying to reach out to her while at the same time keeping her from something. Inexplicably, Candra wanted to reach out to him too—and to do that she needed more answers.
She climbed into bed, thinking about where she could get those answers, and she determined to do just that.
Candra knew she was dreaming, but it didn’t make it any less disturbing. She was walking home from college and was alone. Although she was going the right way, it kept leading her to the wrong place. She couldn’t find her way to the townhouse, and the streets were completely deserted.
There were no people, no birds, not even a dog on the street. She twisted around and around, calling out for someone to answer her, but there was no one there. Her voice echoed off the tall buildings, sounding hollow. In the distance there was nothing but silence, and she called again, screaming “hello” at the top of her voice, feeling as if the buildings were spinning around her. The wind whipped up, swirling around her like a cyclone, and the ground began to shudder. She heard the sound of cracking glass and looked up in time to see the windows above her vibrate and begin to shake. A noise as loud as thunder exploded around her as she fell to the ground in a shower of shattering glass.
She woke with a start in the darkness of her room, breathless, curled in a ball and clinging onto her pillow. Once her breathing evened out, she rolled over with the pillow still in her arms like a security blanket, to see Sebastian sitting by the window with his ear phones in, wide awake and staring at the ceiling.
In the following weeks, every move Candra made was monitored, dissected and measured. Every morning Lofi waited for her at the end of the stairs in uniform, bouncing and full of energy, ready to escort Candra to school and stay with her while she went about her daily activities. Each afternoon Sebastian waited outside school to escort her home and hang around her like a useless appendage.
Candra had started to take long soaks in the bathtub each evening; the bathroom seemed to be the only place Sebastian was still reluctant to follow her. Even that was becoming an issue. After a while, he would tap on the door, indicating he was checking to make sure she hadn’t climbed out a window again. But Candra had begun to watch him almost as closely as he watched her.
He got twitchy whenever she strayed too far from him. It was almost as if he expected one of the eagle-like Watchers that seemed to shadow them everywhere to swoop down and pluck Candra from his side. Their numbers were growing; it appeared that every week there were more Watchers in the city. Candra had seen them in everyday life going about errands, walking down the street, or drinking coffee outside cafés. She recognized them now; once she knew what to look out for, it was easier: their extreme beauty and the way the gold flecks in their eyes glinted when they caught the light. Every now and again she would see one with their wings extended and noticed how humans moved around them as if held back by an invisible barrier.
At night, Sebastian slept by her bed like a loyal guard dog. There were things she noticed about him: music was the first thing. He needed music to sleep, even though when he did, it was never deeper than a light slumber. A few nights, when Candra’s mind wouldn’t rest and she curled up on her side trying to relate the semi-life she was leading to the precocious child she had been, she watched the slow steady rise and fall of his chest as someone might count sheep, until his quiet melancholy lulled her to unconsciousness.
Another night when she could hear Brie and Gabe raising their voices downstairs, Sebastian asked her to read to him. Candra was taken aback by his cutting tone until it struck her what he was doing. He was calculating and stoic in his insistence, at the same time sensitive enough to understand she needed a distraction. She was unenthusiastically grateful for his company.
It wasn’t all bad. Sebastian knew the name of every star constellation in the sky, and several times he followed Candra out onto the roof of the townhouse.
Every once in a while, a flash of light streaked across the sky from the meteor shower that had drawn her out onto the roof that night. This particular shower was an annual occurrence, and Candra always enjoyed viewing it, but this year the falling dots of light held a new connotation for her. It was weird for Candra, knowing the meteors causing the lightshow were hundreds of years old but still not nearly as old as Sebastian.
“That’s Taurus, the bull,” Sebastian informed her, pointing to the eastern sky.
She pulled the blanket tighter around her shoulders; it was a particularly clear night and so, was also particularly chilly. Star spotting wasn’t the reason she ever went up there in the past. She liked to look at the lights while listening to some music, alone. Although strangely, she was getting used to not being alone—that was something she never expected.
Sebastian didn’t have a blanket; he was wearing his faded leather jacket. Candra grudgingly had to admit to herself that he looked good in it because, just like all the Watchers, he was made beautiful. She casually gazed at him instead of upward as he closed one eye focusing on the sky and tracing the outline of the bull with his pointer finger.
“What?” he half-grunted. “You’re doing it again.”
“I’m not doing anything
,” Candra mumbled and averted her eyes, blushing profusely.
“Sure,” he snorted.
Out of the corner of her eye, Candra could see him smirking and shaking his head. He was sitting on a blanket beside her with his long legs crossed at the ankle. She supposed he had to have guessed she was trying to figure him out. He wasn’t helping. He revealed nothing about himself voluntarily. Sure, he was beautiful, but there had to be more to him than the few things she knew. She needed to look deeper…if only she could look at him without blushing.
“Oh, shut up and keep educating me, since you insist on being here,” she bit back grumpily.
“It’s been a very long time since I was a teacher,” Sebastian said off-handedly, leaning back on his elbows.
The very idea of Sebastian teaching a class of high school girls made Candra laugh out loud. She could just imagine the swooning and eyelash fluttering that would have gone on.
“You find it funny that I was a teacher?” he asked curiously. He didn’t sound offended at all. “I’ll have you know my students paid rapt attention to every word I spoke.”
“I bet they did,” she mumbled, looking up. “I’ve seen how women are around you.”
“It was an all-boys school actually,” he corrected her, “and it was an extremely long time ago. Unfortunately, looking so young limits some professions for me these days. Who wants a kid teaching their kids?”
“So I guess that leaves out being a doctor too?” she asked.
“I’ve practiced medicine several times, but again, not for a long time.”
“I’ve wanted to be a doctor ever since my father died. Somehow I got it into my head that I could have helped him.” Candra sighed, quickly darting her eyes over her shoulder to him.
Sebastian’s head was tilted back to the sky, deep in thought, and his lips were pressed together firmly, making his jawline tight and sharp. His Adam’s apple bobbed stiffly when he swallowed.
“Candra, I’ve been thinking.”
“Really, how that’s going for you?” she teased. He was always thinking. Candra presumed it was one of the reasons why he was constantly frustrated: he seemed to think about things so much that he twisted himself in knots. She thought maybe if he talked to her instead of keeping everything to himself, it wouldn’t be so hard for him. The idea that maybe he didn’t trust her enough made her sad for some reason.
“Maybe I could try sleeping on the couch,” he suggested, but sounded slightly hesitant at his own suggestion.
Candra was instantly hit by strange conflicting desires. She wanted him gone from her room; the guy was like a limpet constantly hanging around. But there was another part of her that protested. She had to admit she didn’t understand her situation completely, and so it had begun to make her feel safer having him around. She wasn’t sure if she really was safer or if it was just his distrust of everything rubbing off on her. Added to that, he distracted her from what was going on—he shouldn’t because he was a major part of it, but his company was a distraction nonetheless. Lastly, how would she ever figure him out if it wasn’t for the constant banter between them? Sleeping on the couch would put a dent in their late night conversations. So, Candra found herself, or at least a very small part of herself, wanting to continue just as they were. She turned to see he was leaning on one arm and rubbing his other hand roughly over his face.
“Maybe just another few days,” he finally said and rolled back onto his two arms again.
Candra sighed and snuggled into the blanket. There was no point in arguing, even for the benefit of the small part of her that wanted her space back. Sebastian wasn’t easily swayed once he made a decision. He would go eventually.
“So you enjoyed being a teacher?” she asked. She couldn’t help being curious about all of them and what they did with all their time.
“What’s not to like? Opening and shaping young minds,” he replied almost wistfully.
Candra snorted a very unattractive laugh. “That’s kind of scary, you shaping young minds to be just like you. All those little Sebastians running around.”
When her joke was met with silence, she realized what she had said. Candra forgot there never would be any little Sebastians—ever. He would never have children. It was with horror she realized she didn’t know if he ever had. For all she knew, it was one of his children that had been among the slaughtered.
“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean—”
Sebastian sat up quickly and cut her off. “I know what you meant. It’s fine.” His face suddenly paled. The color drained from it like water from a broken glass, and he couldn’t meet her eyes. He obviously did not want this particular conversation proceeding.
“I’m sorry,” Candra repeated earnestly.
“I said it’s fine,” he said again with a hard edge to his tone. He brought his knees up and rested his hands on them, threading his fingers, gripping so tightly his knuckles bleached. “Just drop it, okay.”
Candra inhaled deeply, looking up as another streak of light shot across the sky. She couldn’t take it back; she would have if she could. Instead, they sat in an awkward silence for a few minutes. The air was so thick with the atmosphere between them that she was afraid to breathe, afraid she might choke on it.
“That’s Orion rising over there. Do you see it?” he said out of the blue, pointing to another constellation in the east, just above the skyline but lower down than Taurus.
Candra had heard of Orion before. She didn’t know much about the stars or where they were, but it didn’t mean she’d never heard of them. She nodded to let him know she could see.
“The Aram, the first people, named it Nephila. The constellation was in the sky long before they existed and will still be there for millions of years. They believed we fell from the stars—”
“That’s where the name Nephilim comes from,” she finished for him.
Sebastian’s eyes flickered to her, shining for a brief instant in the reflected light of the night sky and ambient glow of the city. “Yes.”
Candra lifted her hand and squinted to trace the outline of the constellation, trying in some way to imagine the sheer vastness of space in which it existed and that what she was seeing was light from so long ago. Another meteor shot past, and she sighed.
“What?” Sebastian asked with an expression of interest, leaning in a little to define what she was seeing.
“It makes me feel small and insignificant in the universe. I mean, to me, I’m important…obviously.” She raised her eyebrows and shrugged.
Sebastian chuckled and lifted his hand to chew on his thumbnail. Candra did a double take when the action automatically drew her eyes to his mouth. His grin that followed was challenging, waiting for her to have a reaction, which of course she would never show him.
“Anyway,” she went on, looking anywhere but him and hoping he would put her flushed cheeks down to the chilled air. “I’m important to Brie and my friends, but I don’t understand why I’m important to you.”
“You’re not important to me,” he answered hastily in his quicksilver voice.
Yeah, that’s never a pleasant thing to hear anyone say, she thought.
“To me personally, I mean,” he corrected himself, but she didn’t bother looking at him. Instead she continued to look at the stars. His correction wasn’t much more flattering. He took a deep breath and puffed it out, sounding almost annoyed at her question, although in Candra’s opinion he was the one messing up the answer.
Without looking at him directly, Candra saw him roll his eyes just as she was thinking it was a good thing he was pretty to look at, because he didn’t exactly have a silver tongue to go with his quicksilver voice.
“Every life has significance; everything we do is significant. It’s all cause and effect, Candra. Sometimes we can’t see why, but it is there, just waiting for us to stop walking around with our heads up our asses and bumping into each other long enough to figure it out.” He finished with a long, sad sigh, punctuated by th
e noise of a screeching crash and wailing sirens.
She was about to ask him how stalking her was significant in the grand scheme of life when he stood up, brushing his ass off with the palms of his hands and stretching his legs.
“I’ll be inside,” he stated bluntly without looking at her and took the space between where they were sitting and the fire escape in three long strides, not an easy feat.
Once again, apparently, the conversation was heading into dangerous territory as far as Sebastian was concerned. Candra was aware there were things even Sebastian didn’t want to share with her, though he did talk to her more than the others. If he thought walking away would make her stop thinking about it all, he was wrong. His sharp exit left Candra wondering why he wanted to hang around so much, if he was always in such a rush to get away from her. And the things he did share left her more curious about the things he didn’t.
Candra wasn’t seeing much of Brie. She knew Brie spent time with Sebastian when she wasn’t around or spent long hours at the gallery where she worked. It almost gave Candra the impression that Brie was trying to distance herself from her, as if she was trying to let her go at the very same time that Candra so dreadfully needed an anchor.
Even Ivy, ever-constant in her life, was off doing other things. Candra supposed the zealous nature of Sebastian’s presence was intimidating to be around. At least she and Ivy still got to hang out in school, and after a while, Lofi wasn’t so bad. In fact, being around her was the only thing keeping Candra sane through all of this. Lofi carried on like everything was perfectly normal, like Candra’s whole world hadn’t been shifted on its axis. Lofi never commented on the fact that Sebastian was always with Candra. She answered Candra’s questions but never volunteered information, which became tiring after a while.
Candra couldn’t trust the information she received off the Internet; it was sketchy at best and didn’t go anywhere close to explaining the reality as it was told to her. She did discover a meaning for the strange word Ananchel used at the party to describe the ones protecting her: Nuhra. It meant light. When Candra asked Lofi, she explained that they were all Watchers but that after they came here they became known as Nuhra and Tenebras: light and dark. It made sense to her, the others being dark, since they were the ones who’d destroyed the children. What Ananchel said made sense too; if Candra was to know the whole truth, she needed the whole story and that meant seeking out the other side. She was confident they wouldn’t hurt her; if they’d wanted her dead, Ananchel had missed many chances. Killing Nephilim—the children of humans and angels—didn’t appear to be on their agenda anymore, even if Sebastian was convinced otherwise.
