by Megan Hart
Edward looked up from his place on the ground. “I never meant to hurt you, Tovah.”
She didn’t have enough time to step between Edward and Ben, and it probably wouldn’t have mattered if she had. Edward rose up atop the sudden wave of black water that hung over them, rich with the smell of secrets. Tovah’s legs buckled, twisting at the last moment, subject to the push of someone’s will—whose, she wasn’t sure, but when her legs melded and grew glittering scales to become the muscular tail of a fish, she knew. Ben had done this once again, pushed her hard and fast into a shape that wasn’t hers.
She didn’t have time to be grateful before the water curling into a solid wave above them crashed down on top of them all.
She swam. The dark water and the taste of despair choked her, but she breathed. She opened her eyes and could see in the blackness. She pushed with her tail and pulled with her arms, unable to find up from down. She tumbled over and over as the water retreated and then she was on the wet sand, bruised and aching but alive.
Spider was gone. Ben lay curled on the sand, his eyes closed, blood and bruises already forming on every patch of skin Tovah could see. He’d saved her, but not himself.
Edward, perfectly dry and unharmed, stepped down the retreating wave as though it was a set of stairs, coming to land beside her. His bare toes curled into the sand by her face. He looked down at her helplessness, the form Ben had given her useless on the ground.
“Apparently I am,” he said without a trace of emotion, “a crazy fuck.”
Ben didn’t move. Tovah looked up at Edward. He looked back at her with yet another stranger’s face.
He’d encouraged her to climb the mountain, taught her she could do anything. This world had no limits for her but those that existed in her mind. And at last Tovah had reason to banish all of them.
She was strong. Unstoppable. She got to her feet without struggling, changing her form as fast as she thought it. The black lake vanished in a blink, the sand in a breath.
“You are done, Edward.”
Edward rippled but Tovah held him in place with the lift of a finger. He cried out. She’d hurt him.
Good.
She caged him with her desire that he be so caged. Silver bars pressed him on all sides, the representation of her will made solid. It hurt her when he broke them, in a place deep inside, but she didn’t retreat.
“You are done,” she repeated.
She shaped a haven, once again, the green grass of her meadow, the trees and flowers, the brook. It shaped around them seamless and effortless. Her dream within a dream. The boy looked up from his place in the grass where he’d been playing with his puppets. He got to his feet, face alarmed.
Tovah looked at Edward. “You took away two people I loved.”
Edward groaned, falling again to his knees and clutching his guts, but Tovah refused to be fooled by this display. She sealed off all hints of anything other than the meadow.
“Get up,” she told Edward and, groaning, he did, though not of his own volition.
Eddie, eyes wide, clutched his puppets to his chest.
“Look at him.” Tovah jerked Edward’s eyes toward the boy, who did not move or speak. “Face your fears. It’s about time.”
“No.” Edward tried to shake his head, tried to turn his eyes away, but Tovah would not let him.
Fury and sorrow swirled around her. When the cold bite of steel pressed the bare skin of her back, she crossed her arms, each hand going to its opposite shoulder. She was an angel with wings made of glass and razors, and her hair waved around her as her will pushed Edward toward Eddie.
“Face your fears, Edward.”
“Why are you doing this?” Edward’s shout ripped from his throat. He pushed back but there was no stopping her. Not now.
Not ever again.
“Because you are lost and need someone to guide you,” Tovah said in a voice that stunned and sliced.
“Please,” whispered Edward, his hands raised to ward her off.
The Ephemeros had shaken and broken in the face of Edward’s fear. In the face of Tovah’s fury it did something worse.
It began to unknit.
The blades of her wings whirred, stretching out behind her, but she ignored them. Tovah saw nothing but the man and the boy, face to face, one and the same.
The boy reached first, a puppet in each of his hands. The man made to back away, but the snicker-snack of glass-shard wings slashed the air behind him, and he stayed where he was. He turned his head to Tovah.
“I’m sorry,” Edward said.
Tovah faced him with her wings of glass spread out behind her. She didn’t need to fly. “I’m sorry, too.”
Eddie whimpered. Tovah turned.
She pushed. Something new broke inside her and she pushed on, anyway. Like overlaying shadows, she shaped one on top of the other. Silhouettes. The small, frail shadow of Eddie disappeared beneath Angie’s curving form, which vanished under Stan’s snouted profile. Three in one.
Edward shouted like he’d been stabbed in the back and turned, running toward the shadow tableau Tovah had created. He ran so fast he kicked up grass and skidded to a stop. He reached, but his hands passed through the shadows without stopping.
He faced her. “What have you done?”
“You don’t have to be afraid,” Tovah said. “Let me help you.”
“Oh, you stupid, stupid bitch,” Edward moaned, staggering. The shadows rose up. Black water. “Don’t you understand? Now I’ll never be able to get away from them!”
Hands fisted, he stood his ground before the wave he’d created. It loomed over him, dripping acid that hissed and sizzled on the sand and turned it to slick glass. The roar of the surf filled the air.
“Wake up, Edward!” Tovah cried. Pain twisted in her guts. “Just wake up! All you have to do is wake up.”
Edward looked at her, taking on one, final face. The shifting features halted, each finding its place. She recognized nothing about him. He’d become a stranger again.
“I’m not asleep,” said Edward.
The water consumed him.
As he disappeared inside it, Tovah shaped the meadow closed, faster than she’d ever shaped it before. Without walls, ceiling or floor it didn’t look like a prison, but it had become one just the same. She was on the outside, looking in to what had been her favorite place, her own haven, the one place in both her worlds that had been hers alone. Her private dream within a dream.
Giving it up hurt worse than climbing the mountain of glass had, but she did it in the span of two heartbeats. It left her aching and bruised, every breath a fire in her lungs until she remembered to shape the pain away.
But there was another agony she could not shape away.
“Ben?” Tovah ran to him. She cradled him, watching her tears splash his face. This was as real as anything she’d ever known. She bent to kiss him, hoping to open his eyes.
It worked. Ben’s eyes fluttered open and he sat up so fast he knocked his head against her chin. Tovah tasted blood but only for the second it took to shape it away, and the sting with it.
“Are you all right?”
She nodded, looking around. In the distance she saw a family on a picnic. Her dreamscape had altered a little. She felt the tug and pull of the collective will, felt the desire of someone not too far away looking for a guide, and she didn’t block it off. Not right away.
“I thought you were gone, too.” Her arms tightened around him, squeezing. Tovah buried her face into the side of Ben’s neck, breathing him in. “I thought he’d killed you, too.”
Ben’s embrace warmed her as he rocked her slightly into place on his lap. “No. I’m still here. I’m right here.”
His tears wet her shoulder, and her own fell faster. “I don’t want to lose you, Ben.”
“You won’t lose me, Tovah.” He pulled away to look into her eyes. “I promise.”
He kissed her, slow and certain. Her mouth parted, accepting the probe of his
tongue as his hands slid up her back to tangle in her hair. Strong fingers massaged the base of her skull. Ben pulled her closer until she straddled him. He broke the kiss to press his face to the hollow of her throat. The heat of his tongue flicked her there, and Tovah shivered.
“I promise,” Ben whispered.
Tovah curled against him. Pain pricked her all over, but deep inside it was worse. Harder, somehow. Stronger. She’d ruined something inside.
“I—” She began to speak, but Ben’s lips stopped her words.
“Find me,” he told her. “Out there. Find me, Tovah.”
There was no more time for them now. She kissed Ben again, their mutual longing not enough to keep her there when the waking world plucked so fervently at her sleeve. She didn’t want to leave him, to face the loss of Henry in the waking world alone. She didn’t want to face the loss all over again, but steeled herself for it by stealing one more kiss to bolster her until she could dream again.
“Find me,” Ben said again. “My name…my name is what I’ve always been.”
It was that way, here. Words scrambled, clocks never told the right time. Truth refused to be told.
“I’ll find you,” she promised, and reached for him again.
She’d thought she was being shaken awake, but it was the thunder of feet on tile floors that had done it. Tovah’s eyes flew open as her chair was shoved aside to make room for the nurses flocking to Henry’s bed. An orderly banged into her stump and she cried out, but the man didn’t do more than glance in her direction.
Tovah shoved the floor with her foot, pushing the chair out of the way. It didn’t have far to go, and she banged into the wall with a thud that wracked her leg again, but she bit down on the pain. She saw Martin bent over Henry’s still form.
The team worked swiftly in a seamless, too-often-performed dance. Martin gave orders without the barking arrogance Tovah had seen in too many doctors. He moved with confidence, only once looking up at her across Henry’s body.
Whatever he saw on her face made him look away at once.
“Call it,” he said, looking at the clock on the wall, the one upon which the numbers stubbornly refused to shift. “He’s gone.”
And though she already knew that was the truth, Tovah began to weep.
Chapter Thirty-Four
“Why did you even wait so long?” Kelly plumped Tovah’s pillows and settled the tray more steadily on her lap. “Jeeze, girl, you’re gonna give me a complex.”
“I didn’t want to be a bother.” Tovah’s stomach grumbled at the aroma of the soup Kelly had made for her.
Her friend had picked Tovah up at the hospital, driven her home, fed the dog, tossed in a load of laundry and helped Tovah change the bandages on her leg, not even flinching at the sight of the bruises and scrapes. And bless her, Kelly hadn’t asked why Tovah hadn’t asked Dr. Feelgood for a ride.
Kelly snorted. “It’s not a bother, Tovah. God. What sort of shitty friend would I be not to help you out?”
“You’re not—”
“Exactly.” Kelly patted her shoulder. Beside her on the floor, Max snuffed happily. She’d fed him. He would be her friend for life. “So shut up and eat your soup.”
Tovah had told Kelly an abbreviated version of the story—her fall, the late-night phone call and Henry’s passing. Though she could tell Kelly wanted to ask more questions, she didn’t, and Tovah was grateful.
“It’s almost time for Runner, isn’t it?” Tovah pointed to the remote in its caddy on top of the television.
“You sure you want to watch with me?” Kelly made a little face. “I tend to squee.”
Tovah’s laugh was a welcome surprise, perhaps to them both. “I’d never have guessed.”
Tovah had watched only a few episodes, but the premise wasn’t difficult to follow, the dialogue was alternatingly clever and poignant, and the characterization well developed. A combination of the sci-fi classic Logan’s Run and the more modern Running Man by Stephen King intermingled with a healthy dose of urban legends and vintage X-Files, it was a program Tovah would have loved from the beginning even if she’d never saved Justin Ross from a horde of dildo-waving zombies.
“Hey,” said Kelly softly, reaching for the box of tissues and handing her one.
The tears had slipped silently down her cheeks without her noticing. Tovah took the tissue and swiped at her face. “I’m sorry.”
“Don’t worry about it.” Kelly turned the volume down a little bit and twisted her body on the couch to face Tovah. “I’m sorry about your friend.”
Tovah accepted the sentiment with a nod. “He was a good guy. And…I’m going to miss him very much.”
Outside the window the yard flashed with brightness glaring enough to turn Kelly’s head. “Was that lightning?”
Tovah’s head had turned as well, but she knew it wasn’t an oncoming storm. “No. That’s my neighbor’s floodlight.”
“Dr. Feelgood’s floodlight?” Kelly leaned over and pushed aside the slats of Tovah’s blinds to peer into the back yard.
Tovah’s throat constricted again, but she didn’t cry this time. “Yes.”
“So he must be home.” Kelly shifted again, looking harder. “Dammit, I can’t see him.” She turned to look back at Tovah. “You never said what’s going on with him, by the way.”
“That’s because…nothing is.”
It wasn’t the right time to talk about it, even if she knew what to say.
Kelly studied her intently. “You don’t look like there was nothing.”
Tovah sighed, looking down at her hands clutching the shredded tissue. “I don’t know about him, Kelly.”
“About him? Or about yourself?”
“Isn’t that always the question?” Tovah shrugged. “I don’t know.”
Kelly couldn’t stay forever, but Max refused to leave Tovah’s side, not even for the freedom of the yard outside. Tovah leaned on the enormous dog as she collapsed on the couch, where the pillows soaked up her tears as she sobbed until her throat was raw.
When the phone rang fifteen minutes later, she answered it by fumbling blindly for the handset on the table next to the couch. Though the phone displayed the name and number of the caller, Tovah didn’t bother to look, just croaked a hoarse greeting. There was silence.
She sat up a little higher. “Hello? Who’s this?”
“Is this…Tovah?”
“Yes.” Tovah snatched up the box of tissues and pressed one to her eyes and nose. It disintegrated almost at once and she took another. “Who’s this?”
At the next long silence, Tovah looked at the handset. The number and name had come through as Unknown, a call she normally wouldn’t have answered, anyway. She was just about to hang up when the woman on the line spoke.
“I’m calling about Kevin.”
Tovah sat up straighter. An image of Kevin falling sliced through her and sickness lurched to her throat. “Is he all right?”
She cursed the fresh bout of silence broken only by the soft sound of the woman struggling to speak.
Tovah gripped the handset tighter. “Is he all right?”
“He’s going to be fine. He had a scare, but he’s going to be fine. He asked me to call you.”
Tovah had no patience for petty games. “A scare? What does that mean? Who’s this?”
“This is Jennifer.” The soft sniffling turned to a much colder tone. “His fiancée.”
Tovah had no strength for a pissing contest, so she kept her voice calm because of that. “What happened to Kevin, Jennifer?”
“He was hospitalized with arrhythmia. We thought he was having a heart attack!” She said it as though Tovah should take the blame, though she could have no clue how much Tovah had actually been involved.
“But he’s fine?”
“Yes. They think so. They’re keeping him overnight for observation and to run some tests, see if there was any permanent damage to his heart.”
Jennifer sounded tired, and thoug
h Tovah had no love for the other woman, she did manage to dredge up some sympathy. “I’m sure you must have been worried.”
This time the silence crackled with anger. When Jennifer spoke it was in clipped, sharp-edged tones. “He wanted me to tell you he was sorry, and that he was going to withdraw pursuing the settlement.”
Old resentment surged forth, making her bite down, hard. “He couldn’t tell me himself?”
“He was intubated. It hurts him to talk. He had…he had to write it down…and he was on heavy medication at the time!” This last came out with the force of defensiveness.
Of course Jennifer would be unhappy to watch her future husband toss away what promised to be a sizeable amount of money to his ex-wife. What she couldn’t know was how frightened Kevin must have been to do it. Tovah knew.
“Well.” Tovah cleared her throat and wiped her face. She tried hard to find happiness that Kevin had not died, but against the blinding loss of Spider, she found no joy for Kevin. “I’m glad to hear that he’ll be fine.”
“We just want to get married!” Jennifer’s voice had gone high and thready. In the background, Tovah heard the thin wail of their child.
“And I just want to get divorced,” Tovah answered steadily.
Another long silence. Tovah didn’t break it—this was not a conversation she wanted to own. Jennifer sniffled loudly into the phone, then hung up. The sound of the dial tone was very loud.
Tovah thumbed the disconnect button and fell back onto the pillows. She waited for a fresh bout of tears but had apparently run herself dry. Max pushed his head into her hand in a familiar ploy for her to feed him. Tovah looked into the kitchen, where the dog had dumped his empty bowls. She looked down at her sleep-rumpled clothes and touched her limb carefully. She looked again at the kitchen, and the distance.
“I can’t do it,” she told the dog. “I’m sorry, Max. I just can’t do it.”
And then she realized she wasn’t done with her tears, after all.
It was a week before she could fit her prosthetic over her stump again. The pain had gone away faster than the swelling, and though she might have risked padding the socket of her leg in order to get back on her feet sooner, the worry she might take another tumble had kept her on the crutches for a few days longer.
