Invidious

by Bianca Scardoni

  His eyes were filled with longing as they poured over me, studying me as though the secret key to unlocking me were hidden somewhere on my face.

  “You still don't trust me.” He pushed his hands through his midnight-black hair and dropped his head, terse and abrupt as though shot down by the very words he uttered.

  “I'm trying to,” I admitted.

  “I hate this, Jemma,” he said, every word soft and delicate as though birthed from the deepest part of his truth. “I never wanted for you to hurt like this.”

  “I know,” I said, and a part of me truly did. But there was still another part that was screaming for me to tread carefully; to expect the worst and prepare for all possible outcomes, as Dominic had said. “Too much has happened, and too much is coming. I have to stay focused on what I need to do and I can't do that while trying to navigate my feelings for you.”

  “So, you still have them?”

  “Have what?”

  “Feelings for me.” He clenched his jaw in anticipation of my answer.

  “I'd be lying if I said I didn't.”

  He moved in closer to me—to touch me, or hold me, or connect with me in some way, but I stepped back out of his reach.

  “But it doesn't change anything.”

  He lowered his head.

  The seconds ticked by languidly like sand in a frozen hourglass. The silence, both deafening and heartbreaking, was emblematic of the standstill we were now in.

  When he looked back up at me, all I saw was the searing pain in his eyes. “It kills me to see you look at me like this, Jemma, and maybe that's what I deserve for not being honest with you from the beginning, but it still knifes my insides.” His lids slid closed, banishing his blue eyes from the world for the longest, darkest moment of my life.

  “Trace.” I called out his name like a prayer, urging him to open his eyes, to let the sun pour back into my world. I needed his light, his sustenance to carry me forward, yet getting too close to him was still dangerous; a fiery burn I wasn't yet sure I could endure.

  They opened again, and I breathed in fast and deep because the air had once again returned to my stifled lungs.

  “Maybe it would have been better to just lie to you and tell you I did it,” he said, his eyes meeting mine in a revealing way. “That I did it for my sister, and then beg for your forgiveness.”

  “Why would you say that?”

  “Because at least then I’d know I deserved this. It's not like it never crossed my mind,” he confessed and then looked away as though too ashamed to face me. “The only thing standing in the way of bringing Linley back was that Amulet. And you had it. I'd be a liar if I said I never thought about taking it.”

  I crossed my arms, unsure of where he was going with this and if I really wanted to hear it.

  “But I didn't do it,” he stated firmly, meeting my eyes poignantly. “I couldn't take the risk of losing you.” Shaking his head, he pumped his jaw muscles in frustration. “I didn't do it, and I lost you anyway. All you see is betrayal when you look at me. It's in your mind every time I touch you.”

  I couldn't find the words to deny it. Probably because I knew it was the truth.

  “I'm paying for something I never actually did.”

  I lowered my eyes in regret, realizing I’d driven him to this—to wishing he had lied to me instead. As hard as it was to hear the truth, I respected him more for putting it out there, for letting me hear it, no matter how ugly it was. If present Trace really didn't do this, as my heart was telling me, it wasn't fair that he was stuck footing the bill for it.

  I needed to find a way to separate the two of them and to forgive him for the thing he had yet to even do.

  “I'm trying to let it go, Trace. I want to get back to where we left off, but it's going to take some time. And with Morgan’s vision...” I looked away from his troubled eyes, afraid to go on. “I need time to sort through it.” I hadn’t even begun to consider the implications of her vision and what that really meant for us.

  He exhaled his frustration.

  “I understand if you don't want to wait around. I wouldn't ask you to anyway—”

  “I'll wait.” He blinked slowly as he took me in. “I'd wait until the end of days for you, Jemma. I don't know if I should be admitting that to you or not, but it’s the truth.”

  I smiled up at him, at his words.

  “For whatever it’s worth, I know you’re the one, Jemma. I know we're meant to be together, and I’m not messing with destiny anymore.” He pierced me with a look of complete want. “Not when it comes to you, anyway.”

  My heart stopped and started at the unexpected declaration. I wasn’t sure what part of that to process first. “Destiny, huh?” I raised a skeptical brow at him, deciding to graze right over the whole “you’re the one” thing. There wasn’t enough CPU in a computer to process that one yet.

  His lip hitched up at the corner as he buried his hands (and his secrets) in his pockets.

  Obviously, I wasn’t about to let him off that easy. “Why do you keep saying stuff like that?” I asked him, curious, since it wasn't the first time I heard him say we're going to be together; that I was going to love him someday.

  “Morgan,” he answered simply, shrugging off her name like it was no big deal.

  “What did she say?”

  “That you're going to fall in love with me.” His mouth twisted into a beautiful, perfectly dimpled grin.

  I thought back to what Morgan said in the washroom—that I told him I loved him right before she saw him die.

  My stomach dropped. “Why didn’t you ever say anything?”

  “Why do you think?” He shook his head. “It's kind of an awkward conversation to have with a girl who doesn't even know you. Besides, I hadn’t even really accepted it myself at that point,” he explained with an air of detachment. “Accepting it meant I had to accept her other visions, and I wasn't ready for that.”

  My throat tightened as a heady feeling of dread washed over me. “Like her vision about your death.” There it was again; the enormous elephant in the room.

  He nodded, though barely.

  “What are you going to do about it?”

  He laughed, dark and gruff, as though the situation were entirely void of any hope. The sound of it ripped a hole right through the middle of my heart.

  Trace was on a fast-track to the end of the line, and I couldn't even stomach the thought of it, let alone contemplate surviving it.

  “There has to be something we could do to stop it,” I said, my voice tinged in the kind of hysteria that started in the pit of your stomach and then shot up through your esophagus like vomit. “There has to be.”

  “Jemma.” He moved a little closer to me, spoke a little softer. “There isn't.”

  “No. I don’t accept that.” There had to be a way to change it, to stop it from becoming real. Tessa and Trace both said that Death comes for us no matter what we do, so maybe it wasn't a matter of stopping it from happening, but a matter of cheating it. Maybe bringing Linley back from the dead would be the key to bringing Trace back too. “If we find a way to bring Linley back, we can do the same for you” —I swallowed hard— “you know, if it comes to that.”

  “Maybe.” His head cocked to the side as he watched me.

  “Maybe?” What kind of answer is that!

  “I don’t want to talk about that right now,” he said and then took a slow step towards me. “I don’t want to talk about anything. I just want to be with you.” His hands found their way around my waist again and pulled me into him as though he were a lost soul and I was his one and only way to salvation.

  My heart sped up as he lowered his head to my neck and breathed in the scent of my hair, of my skin.

  “Stay with me, Jemma.”

  A swarm of butterflies took flight in my stomach. I didn’t know how to say no to that, to him, and I wasn’t sure I wanted to. Despite knowing this could very well be the beginning of my end—of his end—I c
ouldn’t find the strength to pull away.

  Not even to save our lives.

  “I promise I won’t do anything more than this,” he added in an attempt to seal the deal that had been made long before I came here. “Just stay with me tonight.”

  Without waiting for my response, he flicked off the light switch behind my head and began towing me back towards his bed. I followed freely and completely, a willing servant of his heart and anything it desired. He sat down on the edge, every move unhurried and designed to keep me from fleeing, but the truth was, I wouldn’t have anyway. Fleeing meant running away from the very air that filled my lungs with life.

  With his hands planted firmly on my hips, he lay back on his bed and pulled me down with him. Down into oblivion; into bliss; into the warm space where I have always belonged.

  It had been a long time since I had a place to call home. Most days, I couldn’t even remember what that felt like anymore. My anchor had chipped, cracked, rotted away to the bottom of the ocean, leaving me lost and stranded in the open sea alone.

  Until now.

  Fate had brought us together, and as it stood, it would soon take us apart, but in that small moment, I was no longer lost. I was finally home again.

  Trace was my home.

  13. EYES WIDE SHUT

  My eyes blinked open.

  The dull-gray light of morning poured into the room, covering everything in a hazy, fog-like filter. With my entire body humming, I glanced down and found Trace’s arms still wrapped securely around me. He’d held onto me throughout night and I’d never felt more at peace.

  And then reality slapped me right in the face.

  I'm finished!

  “Oh, my God! Get up!” I shrieked, jumping out of Trace’s arms like a ripped off bandage. “We fell asleep! Get up! Where’s my phone?” I searched around frantically, yanking the covers up and tossing his pillows around the bed.

  “What time is it?” he asked, his voice and eyes still groggy and doused in slumber.

  “I don’t know, but I'm so dead!” I spotted my phone on the floor in front of his bed and dropped to the ground on all fours to grab a hold of it.

  Nine missed calls from my uncle.

  “Oh, my god, he's going to kill me. He's literally going to kill me. I might as well say my goodbyes now because my life is about to be over.” I was practically hysterical about it.

  “Calm down,” said Trace as he sat up and dropped his feet over the edge of the bed. Rubbing the leftover sleep from his eyes, he said, “Just relax. I’ll give him a call.”

  “And say what?” I screeched, staring at him like he’d just escaped from the looney bin. “We fell asleep in your bed? Whoops, our bad? No freaking way! He's going to kill us both!”

  “Don’t worry. I’ll take care of it.” He picked up his phone and dialed my uncle’s number before I could further object.

  Watching from the foot of the bed, I nearly chewed a hole through my cheek as I waited for him to make contact.

  “Hey Karl, it’s Trace.” Pause. “Yeah, she’s with me.” Another pause. “I know. We ran into some Revs last night and ended up hunkering down until it was safe to come home. We lost our phones getting away otherwise we would have called sooner.” Another long Pause. “Yeah, you got it.” He put the phone down on his nightstand and turned to face me. “There.”

  “There? There what? What did he say?” My eyes were doing all sorts of crazy things. There may have even been a twitch involved.

  He shrugged like it was no big deal. “He said to call my dad and let him know we’re safe. They figured we were together when we both came up missing last night.”

  “And that’s it?” I asked incredulously. “He wasn’t angry? He didn’t yell at you or anything?”

  “Nope.” He got up from the bed and strode towards me. “Told me to make sure I got you to school on time.” He bent down and dropped a soft kiss on my cheek and then took off for a shower.

  What the—

  Okay, so apparently my uncle had been possessed by some kind of really easy-going demon because there was no way he would’ve let me get away with not coming home or even calling to check in. He just wouldn’t.

  Would he?

  Trace and I walked into our World History class together. Several sets of curious eyes looked up and took notice of this new development; a few of which seemed genuinely disappointed, like had it not been for me, they may have had a chance with him. Of course, none more so than Nikki. Her glaring turquoise eyes were shooting knives at my head from across the room, letting me know exactly what she thought about me.

  I shuffled down the aisle and took my usual spot next to Ben. When I glanced back up, Trace was standing beside my desk, but he wasn’t looking at me. He ticked his chin offside, gesturing to the guy sitting behind me, who promptly packed up his books and abandoned his seat.

  “Nice,” said Ben, reaching back for a fist bump just as Trace sat down in the newly available seat.

  I swiveled around in my chair. “That’s not your seat,” I pointed out. Captain Obvious to the rescue.

  “It is now.” His dimples went off in tandem as he fought back a smile. “Is that alright with you?”

  I wasn't sure sitting this close to Trace was the best idea. I had a hard enough time concentrating in class without his good vibrations shooting through my body, but I wasn't about to let him know that. “I guess so.”

  His eyebrows rose. “You guess so?”

  “I happened to like that guy.”

  “Yeah?” He lifted his chin, seemingly to the challenge. “What was his name?”

  Crap, what the heck was his name? Mm...Ma...Marty... “Marshall! His name is Marshall.”

  “Maxwell,” whispered Ben.

  “Maxwell. That’s what I said.”

  Trace stared back at me with a half-smile plastered across his beautiful, heart-shaped lips, not saying a single word. There was something shimmering in his eyes, something soft and loving.

  It made my cheeks warm. “Stop looking at me like that,” I said, trying to bury my smile long enough to bark out the order with any semblance of authority.

  “Damned if I know how.” He leaned back in his chair and kicked out his legs in front of him, still staring at me in the same, exact way.

  The heat quickly spread from my cheeks to every other part of my body, threatening a complete system meltdown. Buckling under the heat of his stare, I abruptly turned back around and waited for Mr. Bradley to start his class.

  A few seconds later, I felt a tap on my back followed by a piece of paper flying over my shoulder and landing squarely on my desk. I unfolded the note and read the message.

  I'm going to Starry Beach before work. You in?

  I half-turned my head and nodded. A few moments later, another note landed on my desk.

  You looked really good in my bed BTW. Like really good.

  A tropical storm erupted inside me at the sight of his words on paper. I didn't dare turn around to acknowledge him this time out of fear that he'd see the cherry shade of red splattered all over my face and know just how much he affected me. Instead, I directed my eyes forward and tried to concentrate on Mr. Bradley, who was busy checking names off his attendance sheet.

  “I'm looking forward to a repeat,” added Trace, loud enough for most of the class to hear.

  “Mr. Macarthur?” called Mr. Bradley at the front of the room. “Care to share that with the rest of the class?”

  “That’s alright,” said Trace, his voice as deep and edgy as an underground cave. “I’m keeping this one for myself.”

  I didn’t have to turn around to know his eyes were pinned on me. I really wasn't sure exactly what had changed between us since last night, but he was definitely bolder now—more determined to stake his claim.

  “Before I begin today’s lesson,” started Mr. Bradley, “I’d like to take a moment to speak with you on a more personal note. As most of you know, Taylor Valentine, a student and fellow classmate of
yours, has been missing since last Friday.”

  My heart sank into the pit of my stomach.

  “While her parents are remaining hopeful that she will return safely, they aren’t leaving any stone unturned. Together with law enforcement, they have organized a town-wide search party to take place this afternoon at four o’clock. We encourage all of you to head down to Town Hall and sign up. A vigil will also be held later this evening...”

  The sound of his voice seemed to be moving further and further away from me. My head was spinning, my stomach roiling. I wasn’t sure what side was up anymore.

  “Miss Blackburn?”

  All eyes were on me. I was standing up and I wasn’t even sure how that happened.

  “Is everything alright?” he asked.

  “I-I...” I shook my head but it only made the dizziness worse. “I have to go,” I said, stumbling down the aisle and then barreling out the door.

  “Jemma!” Trace called out after me as he chased me out into the hall. “Wait up!” he yelled, but I didn’t stop.

  I wasn’t stopping for anything. My feet pounded against the floor like gunshots.

  “Jemma!”

  I needed to get away from it; from this building, from my reality, from my guilt, my helplessness—

  Trace’s arm shot out from behind me and lifted me off the ground, easy as plucking a dying rose from the earth.

  “Let me go!” I cried, tears streaming down my face as I kicked out at the air.

  It was futile. His hold was ironclad.

  “Stop running,” he said, holding me against him. “Talk to me.”

  “She’s gone and it’s all my fault!” Tears flooded over like a busted dam.

  He muttered a string of curse words into my hair as realization set in. “Come on, Jemma. Don’t do this to yourself.”

  “Why not? I did this to her!”

  “No, you didn’t. It’s not your fault, Jemma. It’s not.” He buried his face in my neck, his long hair brushing against my cheeks as he molded his body around mine. “We’re going to fix this, okay? We’ll get her back.”