by Jamie Magee
Draven walked over to me, to the guitar that I was unknowingly protecting with my body. I moved to the side to let him see it, as if it were a wounded child that belonged to us. Without hesitation, he reached for the stalk. I saw nothing, but I heard a slight gasp and looked to the source. Olivia had walked out of the house with Chrispin, her soul mate, in tow. I assumed her gasp was for the mock stage we had set up and turned my attention back to Draven. He’d placed it around him and was checking the power source, every part of it, finding no reason to believe that it would hurt me or was unsafe to play.
“What was that about?”
“I don’t know,” he almost whispered as he carefully took the strap off himself. “I want you to play it to spite him, but if you want me to take it home, I will.”
I felt this pull, this odd energy. At first I thought it was Draven, the way he always made me feel with a glance, but then I was almost sure it was coming from the guitar. It was the music in me wanting an escape.
“It’s mine. I’m playing it.”
Draven’s grin nearly took my breath away as he placed the guitar around me. I glanced at the growing audience on the porch, noticing that even though Aden was teasing them with his drums, their very own Brady was playing a commanding tune. They were staring at us, at me, and I couldn't figure out why. I noticed that Rose, Willow’s grandmother, was leaning close to August, whispering something to him with which he seemed to concur.
I glanced over my shoulder before taking a seat next to Draven and the microphone he had in front of him. This was as acoustic as we got, and I almost feared it would be too much for this crowd.
I noticed Drake and Madison lingering in the front yard in the moonlight, talking calmly. At least it appeared that way. Willow and Landen had joined everyone else on the porch. They were sitting with the children off to the side. Willow was staring at me in what looked like misguided admiration. I nodded in Madison’s direction, giving her some hope that her endless quest for a girl that looked just like her did have some positive effect. She grinned widely and gave them her stare instead.
The music was starting to shift into one of our original mild songs. I adjusted my fingers around the strings, and as I did I saw my father’s image cross my mind. I assumed it was only because of the simple desire to know that he was okay, but as Draven began to sing and I played more, I saw more images.
I squinted my eyes closed, seeing that home that I never lived in become more and more real in my mind. It was entirely more eccentric than the apartment in New York or our home in Salem, but I felt family there. My family. I felt an ache to find it once more, even though I knew it would be lifetimes before I was ever afforded such a pleasure.
I breathed in, just trying to tell my mind to store the memories, not unravel them - and when I did I heard one of my father’s songs. It was one of the most aggressive ones he’d ever written. I’d yet to master the rhythm of the guitar in it, but right now the song was blaring in my mind, so much so that I opened my eyes and glanced down at my hands, fearing I was playing the wrong song. Oddly, what I was playing, what Draven was singing, was not what I was hearing.
My heart began to race as my mind tried to grasp what I was seeing, hearing. The lyrics of this song held at the most 10-15 words, but I couldn’t remember them. An anxiety built within me, simply because I knew I was supposed to see something, hear something. I felt the warning, the direction, and I was blind to it. I decided that as soon as I was done playing I was going to talk to Monroe, make her explain to me what she was seeing, demand for her to tell me if it had anything to do with my parents.
I glanced in her direction, noticing Monroe standing in front of Willow and Landen, holding Landen’s hand. Fear spiked through me, knowing that with a touch Monroe could speak volumes. Before I could utter a “No” or even ponder an explanation as to what he might be seeing, Landen stood and jumped to the side of the porch, then ran at full force through the field to the opening of the string in the distance. Willow raced to the stairs and chased after him, closing the gap faster than I would have guessed possible. The others scrambled to their feet, unsure as to why they’d run. Instinctively, August, Nyla, and Landen’s parents stopped them all, knowing that they must now know. They knew Clarissa was dead.
Monroe locked stares with me as grief absorbed her expression. The music had stopped and we sat frozen, unsure of what to do. I stood, placing my guitar in its stand. Monroe’s eyes grew wide with fear. I stepped forward, but she shook her head, telling me not to. Then, as if it were the voice of God Himself, I heard my father’s song bolt from the night sky. It was fleeting, only lasting a few seconds. I turned to see a blue light gleam from the guitar, reaching for the sky then spider-webbing across the starry night.
Winston threw his guitar down and was daring to step closer to mine. Aden had abandoned his drums and was at Draven’s side. As if in slow motion, the blue light fell back to its source. Winston charged toward it and just as he reached it, it struck him once more. This time the force was so intent, so focused that when it hit him, his image flickered - and when it did, I saw a demon: Bianca. Before I could utter her name or bring a scowl to my expression, it was Winston again.
The guitar struck again, but this time when the light reached to stab him, Winston caught it. Holding it in a sphere, in a sultry tone he seethed, “I told you not to play it. Now we have to do this the hard way.”
Winston turned and threw the light at Aden as if it were a baseball, a dangerous fast pitch.
Draven and Brady both tried to dive in front of him to protect him, but they failed. The light hit Aden in the center of his chest, then spider-webbed beneath his skin. He fell to his knees, holding his head, screaming in agony. Brady was beside him. Draven was daring to move to block me.
The image of Winston sneered at me, “Have fun with that,” then - as if the cavalry had arrived - waves of energy were forced at this image, all coming from Willow’s family.
At first the image didn’t look affected, but then it started to flicker rapidly. Before it vanished, it reached its hand toward me and screamed, “Nothing! You saw nothing!” then I felt a charge of electricity echo across my body.
At first I could not process why it was not as fierce as I was sure it would be, but then I saw the guitar, the blue shield it had cast over me - too late to save me from the first blow of pain, but just in time to protect my mind, body, and soul from being blinded once more.
The image vanished. Silence rained in the aftermath.
Chapter Four
I thought the numb feeling was from the evaporating adrenaline, but as my knees gave way and began to buckle, I knew it was something else entirely. I felt Draven’s arms clasp around me before the harsh ground accepted me. I couldn't make out the voices, the overlapping screams that erupted in the aftermath. As I locked frantic eyes with Draven, I thought of Aden, how he’d been struck. I couldn't hear him scream anymore - at least I didn’t think I did.
Among all the faces hovered over me I saw Libby, Willow’s baby sister, and Preston. They both reached for my arms. Just as the numb feeling that was all but paralyzing my body took control, I heard them whisper, “Sleep now,” and I drifted against my will into a deep dream.
As the images that had erupted in my mind before swirled around me, a past I shouldn’t know came into clear view. I could hear laughter, absolute bliss...the sound of my mother calling me to dinner...my father playing in the den...I saw myself running through the hallways and rooms...I saw an entire life that not only I had never lived, but never would. This was some sick, twisted dream. My mind was playing out a deep desire of mine. I’d always grieved for a life I never had - a life just like this.
This house was filled with fine furniture that surely had been handcrafted for each room. The paintings, vases, and random pieces of artwork were each powerful enough to invoke conversation. I felt old blood, a deep heritage. I felt honored to be a member of this family - proud of both the past and the fut
ure that was promised by right of birth. That was a far cry from the childhood I did have, the one where my mom’s housekeeper made me dinner, how everything we were was so basic, so routine. A damning, endless cycle.
The images stopped firing. The sound of my mother, the music of my father, and my foolish giggle as I ran through the house all stopped. But I was still there.
I was standing in the study, which was a rather dark room. A deep, rich wood framed most of the walls. Priceless rugs were spread across the floor, highlighting the regal crimson and black velvet furniture.
With wide eyes I spun slowly in place, looking at the paintings, the couch that had the oddest wave to the back of it, along with each eccentric piece of the room.
I could hear the popping sound of wood and smell cedar. Right when that occurred, the symbols on the box my mother had left for me, spinning rings with stars and triangles within them started to reflect off the walls in a larger form, making the symbolism seem less complex. I continued my spin, gazing across the symbols, looking for an answer that was clearly hidden from me.
Just as I faced the fireplace, I not only found the source of the light and the symbols, but I also realized that I was not alone. Lounging in an oversized regal chair before a burning fireplace was a complete stranger that I could swear I was grateful to see: the boy I’d seen my mother hug tightly in that vision.
At first glance he looked like my father, only younger, barely twenty, but when I looked closer, past the broad shoulders, sleek build, and dark hair, I could clearly see that those eyes were not my father’s. The base of them was a deep shade of night, but from their centers a pristine blue flamed outward. I could swear I was looking into both my mother and father’s eyes at the same time. This beautiful stranger was a perfect combination of the people I was missing dearly right about now.
Sadness filled my gaze as I realized my mind had fabricated him to give me peace.
“Well hallo, Sista,” he said smoothly as he slowly turned a guitar pick across his long fingers.
I could only stare absently at him. My mind was at war. Images of him - more than could be reasoned - were flashing in my thoughts. I saw him at every age, right beside me. I saw us live a life together that had never existed. It wasn’t in a past. It was very modern. Maybe even more modern than the life I was living now. I couldn’t conceive any of this.
“What, no hug? No ‘It’s awesome to see you, Cashton’? ‘I’ve missed you dearly, my sweet brother’?”
“Cashton?” I whispered.
My heart fluttered as my soul grasped hope for the first time in a long time. How could this be? How come this place felt so real to me? How come I felt like I had just awakened from a horrible nightmare?
Before, when I rode out that mental break, I held on to the life I did know, thinking that something malevolent was planting memories in my mind, but right now I was starting to grasp the world that my mind was trying to show me, and that world had nothing that I would call malevolent in it, not after what I’d lived through.
Cashton leaned forward, his firm jawline flexing for a moment.
“You want to explain to me why I just saw Mum and Dad rushing through The Fall?”
“The what?”
I knew what that was. I was sure of it. It was a passage, a powerful energy source that The Selected Elite could pass through to reach the dark reality. The one that I was firmly placed in right now. The one I saw my parents absorbed into...wait - how did I know that?
He angled his chin down and stared up at me from under his thick lashes.
“Oh, don’t play games with me. I may have been trapped in this veil for longer than I care to evaluate, but I’m not completely mad.” He leaned back. “Is that it? They think I’ve gone mad, failed beyond failure - and they have sent you to bring me home?”
I glanced around the room, deciding that I was going to grasp this illusion, this mental totem. It was going to keep me from going insane.
“What? Don’t like what I’ve done with the room? So what if I took the creepy clock out? It always wigged you out, too.”
Right as he said that, I glanced to where a clock that I should not know existed should be.
“It’s a fabrication. A perk of the veil. I created it right when I landed, and that is why I’m still sane enough to look you in the eye and tell you I’m not going home. I have something I have to do.”
“You’re dead?” I breathed. I had never once had a conversation like this with the damned shadows that called me. The idea of him dead was tearing me in two. I felt my soul cry. Agony consumed me for no reason at all.
“No. I’m not dead. I’m stuck. So you were right, the veil had expanded, my descent was not wide enough to pass it, yada, yada, yada - but I’m going to find my way out of here,” he said with a dominant nod, as if he wanted to emphasize his point.
“I only know how to help dead people move on. Not stuck people. I don’t know who your parents are or where they went.” I figured the best way to use this illusion to my benefit was to call it out on what it was.
“You don’t know who my parents are?” He smirked as he stood up and took two swift steps toward me, raised the back of his hand and rested it on my forehead. He then turned my chin from side to side as he looked into my eyes. “Sometimes The Fall mucks up your senses for a bit. You know that. You’ll snap out of it, and when you do you will tell me how in the hell you convinced not only Dad but Mum to guide you over here. Why they chose not to speak one word to me, only offered me a sorrowful glance, then touched me, branded me with your image – telling me that I was tethered to you now. I realize they knew they were being watched, but still...they could have said something.”
I raised one eyebrow to point out that he was absolutely mad. Pretty eyes, but mad as hell.
“Don’t look at me in that tone. All you have to do is help me find the queen of the veil, and I’ll be just fine, Sista. You can go home then and stay out of this war.”
“This is my home,” I bit out, thinking that maybe, just maybe, my body was telling me to let go, that the blow that came from Winston had threatened my life.
His eyes narrowed, and for an instant all I could see was that stunning blue. The judgment behind them reminded me so much of my mother.
“Are you telling me that you were born here?” he said in a ghost of a whisper.
I glanced around the room we were in. “I yearn for this, but my life was more modern, more real.” No sense in telling him that I’d seen this place vividly before I was knocked out.
“More real?” he said, raising his brow, revealing the dark around the blue of his eyes. There I saw my father, the man that pushed me to see things differently.
“It wasn’t this all right. My dad died before I was born, my mom was a workaholic, and my sister was my best friend and second mom.”
“We have no sista,” he said as confusion took over his image.
“I do,” I said in a matter-of-fact tone. Oh, how I missed Kara.
“You mean to tell me they both came over here? They had you here?”
“Umm...yeah.”
“Dear Creator, how long have I been here?” he said as he brushed his fingers through his dark hair and closed his eyes as if he were trying to add up the time in his mind.
“Not a clue,” I muttered.
“You have no idea what a risk that was, how dangerous that was – all for what, to make me come home? What did they think? That adding guilt to me would guarantee my return?”
“Where do you think you are?”
“Where do I think I am?” He raised his hands in the air as he turned to walk away, then stopped, turned to face me, and peered down. “I told you, I’m not mad. I did not descend into a dimension, or even The Realm. I fell into the veil. I can’t get out of the blooming place on account of some supernatural rules – but you, if you are here, then that must mean they know without a doubt that the queen of the veil has been awakened, and now she can set me free to fulf
ill my charge.”
“Which is...?”
“Which is? That is not the point. The point is that you are my anchor now. With you, I can get out, find her, become alive and do just that.”
“Just that?” He had no idea what ‘that’ was. I was sure of it.
“Don’t mock me. Living here with death has side effects, like a slow fall into amnesia.”
“Must run in the family,” I muttered, thinking of how easily I lost my memory before.
“What, death? Um, yeah, it runs in every family, sweetheart.”
I rolled my eyes. “I meant the amnesia. I’ve lost my memory before.”
“Before? How about right now?!”
“I don’t know you.”
I had to take control of this dream or descent into death. This boy Cashton, was it ? - was not going to pull me in with him. Granted, I’d never seen visions this clear or felt this connected to a soul the first time I met it, but this had to be an illusion.
“That’s a lie. I can see it in your eyes.”
“This is a dream. You are the subject of recent trauma. I lost my family, and now my mind has recreated a family for me, giving me memories that are not mine and offering me you as a source of protection.”
“Hallo?! I know you lost your family because, like I said, I just watched Mum and Dad pass through The Fall. I caught them just before the wave of light reached for them. They said nothing. A clutching hug from Mum and only a touch on my shoulder from Dad that showed me your image. They tethered me to your being, ensuring that I would find you instantly.”
Yup, I was losing my freaking mind. I was so close to believing him. My heart and soul were already there, and my mind was the final hold out.
“Why didn’t they just pull me with them? If they could have both gotten here, lived here long enough to have you, then surely they could have avoided that nonsense and stepped in and pulled me back.”
I pursed my lips, telling him that that did seem more logical.
