Skeptic

by Denise Mathew

  "What are you doing?" I asked, but even as I did, I knew.

  And as rapidly as the wounds on Atticus's chest healed, fresh slashes of red appeared on the front of her gossamer gown.

  "You can't, " I screeched, reaching for her.

  But my hands met an invisible force field, and as I fought to break through the wall she had constructed, I watched her wither, like a decaying flower. Her hair lost its lustrous sheen and her breathing grew labored, but she held her posture straight, even though her body shook violently.

  Her gown was soon saturated with scarlet, and I saw deep gouges appear beneath the thin fabric. Atticus's chest was now completely healed, and even the spatter of his blood had somehow vanished from his flesh, with the only reminder of his death, being the blood drenched black gown that lay in tatters against him. When every wound that I had inflicted on him had been transferred to my mother, she fell quietly off him, and the barrier that had prevented me from stopping her, disintegrated.

  I scrambled to where she had fallen. She gazed up at me, her eyes dull and unseeing. Where once she had seemed omnipotent, now she was broken.

  "You can't leave me," I yelled, shaking her.

  After all these years I had found my mother, and now I was about to lose her all over again, and it wasn't fair. Her mouth moved like she wanted to say something to me, but instead of words, a stream of thick blood dribbled from her lips, then her eyes went blank, and she died. I rested my head against her bloodied dress, and my whole body quaked with shock. Then hands pulled me away from her, and I scrabbled to get back to her, because maybe I could somehow fix her. The same strong arms cradled me, stroking my hair, and I felt his breath on my cheek.

  "I'm here Elise," he whispered in a strong Irish timbre, and fresh tears flooded my eyes.

  "I killed you...and her," I said through quivering lips, clutching at the bits of material that covered his now perfect chest. The scent of fresh blood was all around me, and I tried to push him away, but he wouldn't let go of me.

  "It wasn't you," he murmured. "They spelled you to kill me."

  "He's right," a familiar voice said from beside me.

  "Mom," I said, turning around.

  Even though I had been just a baby when she had died, in some buried place inside me it felt right to call her Mom.

  Atticus shifted and looked at the space I was staring at, but I knew by his blank expression that he couldn't see what I saw. And if there was ever a time in my life that I was grateful for my ability, it was then. I moved out of his embrace, and this time he let me go. I avoided looking at my mother's lifeless body, just a few feet away from me, and kept my eyes locked on her shimmering spirit.

  She had been stunning in life, but now was ethereal. Her white gown sparkled with every color in the rainbow, and her eyes gleamed like sea blue sapphires, her lips were ruby red, skin smooth alabaster. Unlike most spirits, who in their newly crossed over state were little more than blurry silhouettes, my mother had all of the details of her former physical self, and looked solid enough to touch.

  "Florence and Mira, did spell you, but for now I have broken their hold on you. But don't forget their magick is seasoned, and they will try again to gain control of you," she said.

  "But why would they want to control me? Hasn't the time to perform the ceremony already passed?"

  I felt Atticus's arm curl around my waist.

  Jade nodded, but there was concern in her expression.

  "They have been so bent on the ceremony, that they have overlooked things about you, and when they discover what they have been too blind to see, you will become invaluable to them," she said.

  I shook my head, and swallowed the lump that had formed in my throat. "I don't want any of this, in fact as soon as I get back home, I'm quitting the Skeptic..."

  Alarm spread across my mother's face and her mouth formed a perfect O before she recovered enough to speak.

  "You can't quit the Skeptic, now more than ever you need that persona, because it will lead you to the places and people you need to connect with."

  I shook my head in disbelief, how could she ask me to go back to doing the show that was based on lies, after everything I knew.

  "Violet died because of the lies I told."

  My mother smiled, but it didn't reach her eyes.

  "Her death was..."

  She swiped a specter tear from the corner of her eye, and I wished I could go back in time and never have visited Violet's farm.

  "Unfortunate," she finished. "But now isn't the time to talk about such things, you have to get away from here before the Aswang come for you both."

  She motioned toward Atticus, who remained oblivious to her presence.

  "But I can't leave you, I have so many questions about my father and..."

  Fog filled the room, and fuzzy apparitions surrounded my mother, sulfur and ozone scented the air, and electrical currents sizzled and popped all around her.

  "The Elder witches," Atticus said.

  My mother gave me another sad smile, and nodded her head.

  "It's okay little one," she said, clasping her hands in front of her waist. "I'm sorry that I can't tell you everything before they take me to the Underworld. But don't forget that I brought Atticus back for you..."

  She swept her hand around the circle of ghosts.

  "They've come for me. I only wish that I could have been a better mother to you, Elise."

  "No Mom, please, I don't know what to do."

  I hated the childish tone in my voice, but I couldn't be brave right then, I had a hundred questions that only she could answer. I couldn't let her leave me again, because she was all the family I had left now.

  The Elder witches closed ranks around her, and she didn't even flinch, as her image flickered and began to fade. I reached for her, as if it would somehow stop her from leaving.

  "Trust only Atticus. Listen to him, he knows how to protect you."

  And with those words the Elder witches formed an even tighter circle around her, and my mother was absorbed into their mass, as if she had always been a part of them.

  "No, don't go," I cried, wishing that I had thought to get my obsidian mirror, but it was already too late, she was gone.

  "Come on," Atticus said, wrapping his fingers around my upper arm. "We have to get out of here before they come for us."

  "I don't want to leave her," I said, staring down at my mother's body. It was the last evidence that said she had been real. How could I leave her to rot, she deserved a proper burial.

  "They're coming for us, I feel it," Atticus said, cutting his eyes back and forth.

  "We have to bury her... I can't just leave her. I can't."

  My voice was high pitched and hysterical, as I teetered on the edge of shutting down. Atticus shook his head, glanced down at her, then up at me. He rubbed the stubble on his chin introspectively, then snapped his fingers. There was a dry pop, and a whoosh, and my mother's body burst into flames.

  Stunned, I lurched forward.

  "No," I screamed.

  It wasn't happening, none of it was real, it couldn't be. How could the man who I had just killed, have ignited my mother's corpse with a snap of his fingers? I had gone mad, because it was the only explanation that made sense.

  Atticus grabbed me around the waist, and held me close, and I felt his warmth, smelled his cologne and blood, and now too, the stench of burning death.

  I struggled to break free.

  "This isn't real, you're not real," I said, shaking my head violently and I wanted to open my eyes and be back in my apartment and...

  "We have to get the hell out of here," Atticus said, steel in his tone. When I didn't cooperate, he dragged me across the floor, my bare heels chaffed on the wood until I finally stopped fighting, and followed his lead.

  "You can't just let her burn," I whispered. "She saved me and..."

  My voice drifted off, because I didn't know what else to say. She was dead because of me, and the weight of i
t was more than I could bear. We continued down the hallway, and the house was eerily silent as if we were in the eye of a hurricane, and any minute a storm would crush us under its fist.

  When I couldn't keep his pace, Atticus scooped me into his arms, and I was too numb to fight him. He raced outside and to the car, opened the passenger door and shoved me in. My head spun with confusion. How could I trust Atticus? He had tried to kill me once already. How did I know he wasn't going to try again at the first opportunity he got?

  With quick and brutal force, I kicked Atticus in the gut, and he crumpled from the blow. He fell forward on me, groaning, and I had just enough strength to push him off. My feet hit the gravel, and I shouldered past him. Just as I made to run, his fingers gripped my wrist.

  I punched his hand away, then his arm, and any part of his body I could reach. Fury mixed with grief, and all I could think was that I had to get away from him, because every time I looked at him, I was reminded of what I had done.

  "Stop it Elise. I'm trying to help you, for fuck sakes," he hollered. "Look," he yelled through gritted teeth.

  His nose was trickling blood from where I had hit him, and I was sure he was going to have a black eye too. He threw an arm up to the sky, and I went still, then gasped when I caught sight of wings that almost blotted out the moon. Melancholic shrieks turned my blood to sludge, and I remembered that there was much worse to fear than Atticus. I stopped fighting, shifted back in the seat, and buckled my belt.

  Atticus slammed the door shut, and the sound was like a sonic boom in the still night. I was certain it would alert the Aswang, and they would attack at any moment. I squeezed my lips together, just managing to hold in a scream, and gripped the thin fabric of the seatbelt, as if it would protect me from the creatures flying overhead.

  Atticus scrambled around to the drivers side, and behind the wheel. He jammed the keys into the ignition, and wrenched the gear shift into reverse, sending a spray of gravel flying into the air.

  "I don't know what Jade did to keep them off our trail, but with her dead it may not last much longer," Atticus said, through shaky breaths.

  We did a three sixty and careened out of the driveway, and down the dirt road. As we passed the old haunted house, now engulfed in flames, it was just one more sickening reminder of all I had lost.

  We were silent as we sped down the winding road. When we reached the main drag, dawn broke, and blushing clouds painted the sky, and I was never so grateful to see daylight return as I was then. We turned onto the paved main road, and a glimmer of hope lit in my chest, but my reprieve was short lived, because now I couldn't help but gauge the danger that sat next to me.

  I conceded that Atticus had saved me, but it didn't mean I could trust him. I was still a virgin, and as far as I knew, still valuable. What that meant in the grand scheme of things was beyond me, but I was sure of one thing, complacency would get me killed, I needed an exit plan, fast.

  When we didn't take the turnoff leading back to the city, all my fears were realized. I had been right, I couldn't trust him, and the sooner I got away from him and called Jim, the better.

  "I have to pee," I said, making a face like I was uncomfortable. He cut his eyes to me, then back to the road and shook his head, scowling.

  "Can't you wait until we've put a few more miles between us and the Aswang?"

  "No, I've waited too long already," I snapped, and he sighed hugely, before raking a hand through his hair, still caked with clots of dried blood.

  "You look like crap," I said.

  I had been so focused on getting away, that I hadn't realized how bad we both looked. My once white gown was covered in blood, my hands were sticky crimson, and I wasn't wearing shoes or underwear for that matter.

  He shrugged and shot me a bad boy grin.

  "Happens when you get knifed to death," he said, winging up an eyebrow.

  All the air pushed out of my lungs, and I went weak against the seat. I swallowed a few times. and chewed on my lip, determined that I wasn't going to let him see me cry.

  Atticus's face went solemn, and he gripped the steering wheel tighter.

  "Fuck," he said, shaking his head, then pulled his lips taut over his teeth. "I said the wrong thing didn't I?"

  I gave him a dirty look, and when he met my gaze, there was genuine confusion in his expression.

  "Are you serious?" I asked, narrowing my eyes. "You're really asking if you said the wrong thing?"

  He nodded.

  I balled my fists.

  "It's not everyday that I go psycho and kill someone, and my mother sacrifices her life to fix what I destroyed. So yes Atticus, reminding me that I knifed you, as you so nicely put it, is absolutely the wrong thing to say."

  And to say that I was bowled over by what he said next, would have been an understatement.

  "Sorry," he said, sheepishly and squinted like a kid who was ready to take his punishment.

  I slanted my head to the side, still not sure what to make of him, and when he didn't say anything else, I crossed my arms over my chest, and stared out the window. Though I couldn't put my finger on it, Atticus had changed. Sure he was still all sex appeal and domination, but there was something new, a tentativeness that didn't seem possible in him.

  "I'll stop at the next gas station," he said, bringing me out of my thoughts.

  "Huh?" I said.

  "So you can pee." He grinned, and it lit his green eyes in the most pleasing way.

  "Okay, thanks...where are you taking me anyway?" I said, using the opportunity to move to the topic foremost on my mind.

  "To your mother's place," he said, without hesitation.

  "My…what?" I said, mystified.

  "It's hard to explain but..."

  He shrugged, and shot me a lopsided smile, as if the gesture would make me understand everything.

  Anger flared and I felt searing heat flush my cheeks.

  "Do you think it's amusing to say that we're going to my mother's place, when I just saw her die a couple of hours ago?" I spat.

  His grin fell away, and he shook his head. "Of course not," he said, his tone subdued. "In case you haven't noticed, I'm a little fucked up about what went down too."

  "You could have fooled me," I snorted.

  He brought his fist down hard on the steering wheel, and his face went red.

  "What do you expect me to do, crumple up into a ball and wait for the Aswang to find us? I'm taking you where your mother told me to take you," he said in a low voice, that hit harder than if he had shouted.

  Before he brought his eyes back to the road, he gave me a contemptuous glare. After a few minutes had passed, and the silence was too much to take, I spoke.

  "Can you at least give me a rough idea of where we're going?"

  I tried to keep the acid out of my tone, but it was no use, my disdain for him and the situation was too much to overcome.

  He drew in a deep shuddering breath, and oddly, the action brought the scene from the house back, in shockingly grisly clarity. The fact that I had killed him with my own hands just a few hours before, and that he was now driving as if nothing had ever happened, was surreal to say the least.

  "Damn it Elise, you have to trust me," he said, throwing the acid I had tossed at him right back my way. I pressed closer to the car door, and closed my eyes trying desperately to process everything around me, and every time I did, an image of what I had done to Atticus flashed in my mind, and I felt sick all over again.

  After a few moments passed, he spoke again.

  "I'm not exactly sure where it is, only that she put the place in my mind. I'm driving more by instinct, than by a design."

  His tone was more amiable than before and I knew he was making an effort.

  "Do you have any idea how long it will take us to get there?" I asked. Once again, trying to keep the annoyance out of my voice.

  "A day, maybe two, I'm not really sure, hopefully not too long," he said, then shot me Dakota's trademark smirk, and se
eing his smile, Dakota's smile, made my legs turn to jelly.

  "Dakota?" I said, my voice filled with trepidation.

  Even though I didn't want to hope that somehow Dakota was back and Atticus was just a bad memory, I did.

  He shook his head.

  "No. That guy is gone forever," he said evenly, his Irish brogue a clear indication that he was telling the truth. My heart plummeted.

  "Well, if you're Atticus, why are you helping me? What do you stand to gain from kidnapping me?"

  He brought his focus to my face, and his smile was gentle, his eyes soft.

  "First of all, I'm not kidnapping you, I actually just saved your arse, not that I'll be expecting any thanks soon." He gave a low chuckle, and it infuriated me. "And as for the reason I'm helping you..." His expression turned somber. "It's partly because I promised your mother that I would protect you, but even more than that, I care about you Elise."

  His eyes locked with mine, and my heart skipped a beat.

  "You only care about me because of that damn gris-gris," I said.

  He let out a long exhalation.

  "I can't deny that initially the gris-gris drew me to you, but you and I both know that a gris-gris is a spark, whether it ignites a fire is totally up to the two people involved."

  I nodded, because he did have a point. Gris-gris charms weren't so strong as to eliminate free will.

  Not wanting to think about the bag that had started the path of crap my life had become, I once again redirected the conversation.

  "What happened to you Atticus, for that matter what happened to the ceremony, and why am I still alive?"

  He kept his focus on the road, and seemed to be considering my questions.

  "As far as the ceremony goes, your mother stopped that from going as planned, when she offered her life for yours."

  And if I thought I was as low as I could get with self-reproach, I was wrong; I had just skimmed the surface of my pit of shame.

  "She shouldn't have done that," I said, but what I really meant to say was that I wasn't worth the sacrifice.