by Lola St. Vil
You and Rage are on different sides and you had his tongue in your mouth a few hours earlier, Mimi.
I wonder if they sell any items to get your inner dialogue to shut up.
“Before I scan you, I would like a favor,” Bya said to The Caller.
“What do you need?”
“I’d like to scan the Guardian.”
“Why? I’m the one who came to buy!” he protests.
“Yes, but I think she came to buy as well. Or at least she would if it were allowed. I would just like to take a look and see where what’s going on inside her head. I’ve been around a long time and I’ve never scanned a Guardian before”
“And you’re not going to. I want to leave.”
“No dear, you don’t,” she says in no uncertain terms. She takes my hand and looks into me eyes.
“Fine, you can scan me but you try anything shady and I’ll call for your eyeballs to pop out of their sockets and go right into my purse, do you understand?”
She smiles sweetly and takes my right hand. She then closes her eyes. When she opens them again, they are spinning like someone had just pulled the lever on a slot machine.
All of a sudden, I feel like my brain has been put inside a washing machine. The people and things around me are now merely colors. And just as suddenly as it started, it stopped.
“What did you do to me?” I demand.
“I scanned you. It’s always a little bumpy at first. Don’t worry, the spinning should stop soon”
I hold my head in my hands. She better be right because I— and just like that, my head was fine.
“What did you see?” I ask impatiently.
“Well, since you are not shopping, it doesn’t matter. But if you were shopping, I would tell you to go to table seventeen.”
“Whose table is that?” The Caller asked before I could.
“Ayo.”
“Makes sense.” Before I could inquire further, Bya takes the Caller’s hand and scans him. When she is done, she whispers a table number to him, smiles wickedly at me and says, “Till next time.”
We get up and walk deeper into the market.
“We’re going to table three sixteen. Bya says they will have what I need.”
As we make our way, I realize it is far more expansive then I first thought.
The tables give way to tall dark booths displaying everything from Snaps (a candy-like item that gives the user momentary powers such as breathing fire or disappearing) to life-size statues.
As if reading my mind, the Caller says “They aren’t statues. They’re Workers. They are Pawns who have been turned to slaves because they failed Atourum in some ways. So now they stand still until a demon buys them. Then they come to life and do whatever the buyer wants.”
I look around and see a lady statue come to life after being touched by an old man. The Seller presents the Worker to his customer proudly and says, “She’s fit to work and she isn’t scared of breaking a few bones while doing your bidding. She’s top-of-the-line.”
Pawns are humans who agree to work for evil in exchange for cash. But they still have souls, unlike Runners. So I can’t help but feel a little bad for them.
The sights are surreal. There are booths with Pawns being tortured, turned into animals and in some cases dropping dead on the spot. One table had a miniature display of a farm. But the farm is real. As are the people, crops and homes. The Seller drops a pinches of white powder and instantly the crops dry out and the animals starve at an accelerated pace. In a matter of seconds, the animals go from healthy to emaciated. Moments later the animals drop dead and only their bones remain. Then the humans follow the same morose fate.
“What is that?” I ask.
“That’s called a Stage. It’s a miniature display the Seller uses to show what will happen if you use his product. But he uses real people. They have a few Stages here. Some have instant flash floods, plagues and even mass famine. Like the one you just saw over there”
“Who’s Ayo?”
“She’s the Seller at table seventeen Bya mentioned.”
“I know that. What does she sell?”
“Lots of things” he says.
I stop walking and face him.
“What are Ayo’s items known for?”
“Revenge.”
I don’t respond. Is Bya right? Am I hell-bent on making Emmy pay for what she did? Am I the scorned angel out for blood? I can’t let myself think about this now. I have to push it all away.
There are so many things I have not even begun to let my mind try and figure out. Like when will Marcus and I go to the mountains to go get our Rah.
A Rah is a case that houses an angel’s heart. Angels who are in love share one. They come down to earth (if they aren’t already here) and they encase their hearts in the Rah. It’s like getting married. Marcus and I came down here before the mission to put our Rah in the Himalayan Mountains. But since we are no longer together, the both of us have to make the trip out there to go get it. It requires both Angels present in order for the Rah to open up. Inside is a ruby triangle with diamonds at the end of each point. It’s about the size of a dime.
When will we go get it? Is Marcus already clamoring to get it done and over with? Has he already promised Emmy his Rah…?
C’mon girl, try to focus on the subject at hand.
Finally we get to booth three sixteen. A dark figure wearing all black stands perfectly still before us. The Caller approaches the figure carefully.
“Graymi,” he calls out to the Seller. Graymi remains perfectly still and doesn’t answer.
“Bya sent me.”
“She is wrong,” he says with his gravel-like voice.
“She’s never wrong.”
“Anything you want having to do with the mission is strictly prohibited. The penalty for interfering with the mission for the Triplex is certain death. No Review. No second chances.”
“This is not about the mission.”
“Then why did you bring The Second-in-command with you?”
“She’s here for other reasons.”
Graymi turns to me and says, “I heard Emerson, the human girl, has taken your love from you. Are you here to find a way to kill her?”
The Caller replies.
“Ameana is not trying to kill the human. I am.”
*********************************
BOOK TWO: EMMY BAXTER
“And finally I twist my heart round again so that the bad is on the outside and the good is on the inside, and keep on trying to find a way of becoming what I would so like to be...”
- Anne Frank
CHAPTER FIVE: COURAGE
What do you wear on a date with an Angel? Not a guy who acts like an Angel, but an actual Angel? Should I wear a turtleneck so as to cover all bare skin? No, that’s crazy. Whatever it is I wear, it should be white, right? Argh. This whole thing is stupid.
“C’mon Ms. Charlotte, give me some advice here.” My cat turns and faces me.
“Well, c’mon, what do you think of this?” I hold up a blue blouse. She turns her nose up at it.
“A simple ‘Emmy I don’t like it’ would have been enough.”
She looks at me as if to say, “Do you realize I’m a cat?”
I sigh and flop down on the bed. I’m surrounded by outfits that I have considered, but then rejected. My bedroom looks like the dressing room of a bargain basement bin at the end of the day. There are clothes everywhere. Ms. Charlotte comes over and curls herself into my lap. She’s seldom needy so holding her is a rare thing. I lay back on the bed and pet her as she purrs.
“Ms. Charlotte, how could I have said yes to this date with Marcus? We have not found the Triplex. Marcus has to make this horrible decision. Reese is dead. Ameana is nowhere to be found. Julian refuses to help the team find the Triplex unless I agree to talk to him.
Marcus and I are hoping the Sage is wrong about how catastrophic is it for Marcus and I to be together. Although The Sage has neve
r been wrong before. The world could be over in a matter of months and I’m sitting here picking out outfits for a date? Am I just a horrible person?”
She purrs her response and snuggles closer to my chest.
“I know it makes no sense but I just have to be with Marcus. I know I should have let more time lapse between his last relationship and this. But the world may be ending here. I just don’t have that kind of time.”
Her tail goes up in the air and sways side to side.
“Yeah, you’re right. Even if the world wasn’t ending, I’d say yes to him. What kind of girl does that make me? He has been warned that being with me will be the end of him. Still he asks me out. What does that say? It may say that he’s a fool. But me saying yes to his request to go on a date? That says that I’m a selfish, cold-hearted witch.”
Ms. Charlotte purrs in agreement.
“Thanks a lot.”
I guess she didn’t appreciate my tone because she jumped off of me and on to the windowsill.
“The good thing is we got Julian to agree to tell us what he knows about the location of the Triplex. Bad news is, he won’t help unless I meet with him. At first, he wanted me to sit out the mission altogether. But Marcus convinced him that I was better off being around the Guardians.”
“I agreed to the new arrangement thinking it was better than being left out of the mission but so far, I’ve been unable to face Julian. How can I sit in the same room with the man who raped my mother?”
“I know he says it was consensual and my Mom doesn’t recall because the Council took her memories away. But I don’t trust him. I can’t stand the sight of him”
She purrs again.
“Yeah, I know. Once again, Emmy’s holding up the mission. But you try spending an afternoon with the man you’ve spent your whole life vowing to hate.”
There’s a knock on my door.
“Yes.”
“Piglet, Marcus is here.” I rush to the door, open it and pull my Mom inside.
“Did he hear you call me Piglet?”
“What’s the big deal?”
“You can’t call me a cartoon animal in front of the guy I’m—”
“--The guy you’re what? Are you two having sex?”
Blood rushes to my face. My jaw drops. I’m shaking from the pure mortification of having this conversation with my mother.
“Emmy, you are way too young to be having sex.”
Omnis. Please, please kill me now.
“You’re only sixteen years old. And you’ve only been sixteen for a few weeks.”
“Mom, stop.”
“I know a lot of kids out there think sex is—“
“—We are not having sex. It’s our first date.”
“Yes, but you two spend a lot of time together and I’m not naïve.”
“Mom, just go and tell him I’ll be right out.”
“Remember, no sex.”
“Don’t worry. I won’t have time for sex what with the intense therapy and drugs I’ll be taking thanks to this conversation.”
She looks me over.
“You’re not even dressed yet?”
“I’m dressed.” She looks at my jeans and gray V-neck “Smurfette” tee shirt.
“Emmy,” my Mom sighs.
“What? I figure Smurfette is girly enough for the both of us so maybe wearing a t-shirt with her image will make up for the curves I have yet to receive.”
“Honey, maybe you should try and dress up a little.”
“I have looked at every single thing in my closet.”
“Maybe you’ll find something you like in mine.”
“There’s no point.”
“What does that mean?”
I flop down on the bed and feel warm tears making their way down my face. She comes over and sits beside me.
“What’s wrong?” she asks.
“Nothing, it’s stupid.”
“Well, then you’re in the right place. In this house, we happen to make allowances for stupid problems all the time.”
“I’m such a bad person. I should be worried about bigger things than this.”
“What should you be worried about?”
“He used to date Ameana Jones. She’s the most beautiful girl in the world. Nothing I do will get me even close to how gorgeous she is.”
“You’re a very beautiful girl too. How could you not be? You came from me,” she says trying to lighten the mood. But all that does is remind me that I am a product of rape thanks to Julian.
“Ameana is perfect. And now, he asked me out and I’m supposed to measure up to her? That’s not gonna happen.”
“You don’t have to measure up to her. Just be yourself, Piglet, he asked you out. He wants to be with you.”
“I can’t believe this is what I’m crying about,” I say to her as she hands me a box of tissues.
“Oh Piglet, you’re sixteen. What else are you supposed to be worried about? The end of the world?”
Well, yeah. Kind of…
She takes my face in her hands and looks into my eyes.
“You are an amazing girl. You’ve been through a lot in the past few weeks what with Sara’s passing. You deserve to go out and have fun. You wear whatever you like. Marcus is lucky to take my little girl out and he knows it. Now stand up and let me see you.”
I reluctantly get up and face her.
“I have the perfect thing to enhance your ensemble.” Before I can inquire, she has left the room. She comes back moments later with a braided silver Celtic cross.
“It’s beautiful!” I gasp.
“It’s an Aran cross of courage. It was your grandmother’s. She gave it to me on my first day of college, to honor the courage I was showing by going off on my own.”
“I’m not showing any courage, Mom. I’m standing here crying. Where’s the courage in that?”
“You lost a friend and you were down for weeks. It’s very easy to stay down when you’re already there. It takes courage to get back up. And you have done just that.”
She puts the cross around my neck.
“I’m very proud of you, Piglet.”
“I’ve got a sappy mom, my grandmother’s precious heirloom, a face full of tears and snot. I’m ready.”
She laughs and kisses me on the cheek.
“I’ll go tell him you’re almost ready.”
As she leaves the room, I head to the bathroom and wash my face. I take a look at myself in the mirror. Yeah, I’m never gonna be anywhere near as beautiful as Ameana. But the cross is pretty, my face is clean and I put on lip gloss. There, that’s all a girl can do. He’s just gonna have to take me the way I am. No sense in going crazy since I won’t ever match up to his ex.
I grab my sweater and head out of my room. That’s right. I am confident and courageous. I repeat that over and over until the words no longer make sense.
But right before I go meet him, I run back into the room to put on more lip gloss. I put it on as if it is magical and will somehow propel me into Ameana’s realm of beauty. Then I head out of the room.
I see him before he sees me. He’s having a conversation with my Mom.
“Umm, hi,” I say lamely.
They both turn to face me.
“Honey, nice lip gloss,” she says with her eyes wide in alarm.
Oh no. I put on too much. Damn it!
“Honey, before you go, can I talk to you for a second?” she asks.
“Yeah, sure,” I follow her into her bedroom. Once we enter, I look at myself in her mirror and it looks like my lips fell into a vat of Vaseline. She immediately starts to help me wipe off some of the gloss.
“There, that’s better,” she says.
“Thanks Mom.”
She smiles, I head out the door and try once again to meet my date.
“Hi, again.” Man, I need better entrance lines.
“Hey, you look nice.”
“It’s jeans and a t-shirt. What makes them so nice?”
�
��You’re in them.”
I bite my lower lip to keep from showing him my goofy “Oh-I-can’t-believe-he’s-talking-about-me smile.”
“You ready?’ I ask.
“Are you?”
“Yeah.”
“You seem…nervous.”
“No, I’m fine,” my voice squeaks.
“Can you let go?” he says.
“Yeah, I’m ready to let go of all the craziness that’s happening.”
“No, I mean can you let go of the doorknob?”
I look down and sure enough, I am off to the side of the door, holding on to the knob. Every part of my body has made its way towards Marcus except my hand.
Seriously, my grip on the door is so absolute, it’s worthy of a study by a team of top-notch scientists. I’m certain no one has ever held on tighter to anything else in the history of the human race.
“Emmy?”
“Yeah.”
“Let go of the door.”
“I can’t.”
“Why?”
“The door is safe.”
“Excuse me?”
“Did you ever play freeze-tag when you were a kid?”
“Yeah…”
“Well, you know how at the start of the game, you would declare ‘safe zones’. That means no matter what is happening, if you reach that zone, no one can touch or hurt you?”
“I remember.”
“Well, the door knob is safe.”
“And you don’t want to leave it?”
“I want to; I just don’t think I can.”
“This isn’t freeze-tag, Emmy.”
“I know that!” I snap.
Why, why am I such a freak? Why couldn’t I just walk into the living room, smile and say, “Okay, I’m ready. Let’s go,” like a normal person? Why am I so damn weird? I’m hanging on to the door like a nutcase and the most glorious guy on the planet is witnessing my complete and utter breakdown.
He comes over to me.
“I’m sorry. Let’s just call it off, okay?” I say to him in an attempt to save face.
“Why?”
“Because I’ve somehow mentally glued myself to my mom’s doorknob. Because you used to date the hottest girl that ever lived and I am a pale substitute. And because I thought I could handle what happened if we get together but how can I? I can’t even make it out of the house.”
