by Tasha Black
A sense of relief washed over him as he followed.
“I guess I’ll see you, Johnny,” Seth called to him.
He lifted his arm in farewell, without turning. He wasn’t going to chance losing this nurse and having to deal with staff all over again.
And, man, she was a fast walker.
7
Neve’s clogs tapped the pine floors in a satisfying way as she led the patient down the long hallway to his suite. The sound told her that she was wide awake and that all was right with the world. She was only feeling light-headed because she hadn’t had her caffeine yet.
And thank God for it, because if she hadn’t known better she would have sworn she’d just heard bells and seen a halo around Johnny Lazarus, arguably the most self-indulgent jerk in the music industry today.
Behind her, she heard the lighter tread of the patient speed up to catch up. He wasn’t used to walking this fast.
Well, good. Let him see how the rest of the world had to hustle.
Though in truth, she hadn’t gotten an entitled vibe from him at reception, in spite of what he’d been saying.
She’d gotten a scared vibe.
Which was normal for an addict facing the prospect of getting clean. But this fear was… different.
She pushed the doubt aside. Caffeine was the solution to this mystery. And sleep. Eventually.
At last they reached the double oak doors that led to the nicest suite on campus. She slid her access key through the reader.
When she pushed open the doors, soft light greeted her. Unlike Jocelyn’s suite, this one had a view of the cliffs and the valley, an area of the property that was untouched and absolutely private.
This particular room was suspended on a cantilever over the cliffside, giving the occupants the sensation of floating.
The beauty of the unspoiled view always tugged a bit at Neve’s heart.
“Wow,” Johnny Lazarus whispered.
She turned to him. Was he being sarcastic?
He was so tall she had to look up when he stood close. From her vantage point below, his face was filled with wonder and appreciation.
Oh. Not being a jerk then. Why was her guard up with him? He was just like the rest of the patients that came through every day.
“Nice, right?” she asked, pleased, as she walked neatly over to the bedside to check on everything. There was a mint, a remote control for the shades and lights, a menu of group sessions, and a card with the wifi password.
“Exquisite,” his deep voice said.
She turned back to see him at the window, though how he had gotten there so quickly and silently she had no idea.
The sun was beginning to sink behind the trees, its warm glow silhouetting him. His wide muscular shoulders formed a triangle over his narrow waist.
She found herself walking over to join him without meaning to. The closer she got to him the closer she wanted to be.
He appeared to take no notice of her, making it easy for her to approach.
She stopped when she was two feet from him, though a crazy instinct told her to keep going and lean against his shoulder.
Her gaze slid to the purple valley below. It was so beautiful, even in shadow.
She sensed a change in his stillness, and looked up.
Johnny was staring down at her, searching her face.
His look was so familiar, the curve of long dark hair hanging a bit in front of those unusual amber eyes, the slant of his high cheekbones. She expected it was only because she’d seen it, larger than life, on the cover of Rolling Stone. But it was more than that.
As she held his gaze, his jaw rippled with tension, and she saw pain in his eyes again.
Neve was filled with the desire to reach up and cup his face in her hands. Her body tingled with certainty that if she touched him she would relieve him of the pain he felt.
No, Neve. This is a patient. You can’t hug him into recovery. He needs the confidence and desire to heal himself.
She forced herself to look away from him and go back to her duties.
“The remote here will allow you to adjust the shades on the windows and the lighting,” she chattered, as she trotted back over to the bedside console.
“Niiice,” he intoned from a few inches away.
She nearly jumped in the air. He was beside her - he had seated himself on the bed without her hearing it.
“Just like Bowie,” he mused.
“What?” she asked.
“Nothing. What did you say your name was?” he asked.
“Neve Whittaker,” she told him.
“It’s nice to meet you, Neve Whittaker. I’m Johnny Lazarus,” he said, searching her face again as if there was something to know besides her name. He was so tall that although he was seated on the bed his face only tilted up slightly.
“I know who you are,” she remarked, pretending to smooth out his pillow case to avoid more confusing eye contact.
“Not a fan, huh?” he laughed.
“You’ve had a very successful career. I have a lot of respect for you,” she said carefully.
“But you don’t like my music,” he said.
“Rock isn’t really my cup of tea,” she admitted.
“Thanks for being honest,” he said softly.
The earnest tone took her by surprise, and made her forget not to look into his eyes. Suddenly she was lost in them again.
“So what is your cup of tea?” he asked.
His gaze was doing things to her, asserting a pull on every cell of her own body, making her think to herself that maybe he was her cup of tea.
The left side of his sensual mouth lifted in a smirk.
She found herself wanting to smack that look off his face, bite his lower lip, pull his messy hair, push him back on the bed and crush the studied coolness out of him with her own heat.
Taking a deep breath, she shrugged.
“A good book and a quiet evening,” she offered. “And an actual cup of tea.”
The smirk was gone from his face.
“You sound like my mom,” he told her.
“If that’s your only basis for comparison, then most women probably do,” she smiled.
“No, most women talk about reality TV and wine,” he observed lazily.
“You’re hanging out with the wrong women,” she said without thinking.
“That’s what my mom says,” he nodded.
“I think I’d like your mom,” she smiled.
“I know she’d like you,” he said.
The idea delighted her, though of course she would never meet his mother and he was being ridiculous. She let herself smile just a little.
“I’m sure you want to get yourself settled in. Let us know if you need anything. There’s a menu of group sessions on the console.”
“Thanks, I’m good,” he said, dismissing the idea like they all did.
“Spending time with other people who share your experience will help you feel less alone,” she said, following her instincts.
Neve was no doctor. Not because she wasn’t smart enough, or skilled enough, and heaven knew it wasn’t because she lacked the drive - hell, she’d done most of the coursework to get there already. But there was something about being in the trenches, really getting your hands dirty and helping people, that called to her. And she knew she was in the best position to do that as a nurse.
Besides, everyone knew she practically ran the place. Even the doctors on staff came to her for advice. She had good instincts. And right now, those instincts were telling her there was more to her new patient then met the eye.
“I’m Johnny fucking Lazarus,” he laughed. “I’m never alone.”
Neve shrugged. Sometimes, that was the worst kind of loneliness.
“Well, I’m off to make my rounds,” she told him. “Just call the desk if you need anything.”
She didn’t really feel like going, but there was so much to do. Besides, there was something about this guy that was… off. She couldn’t put
her finger on it, but she needed to get out of here before their weird chemistry made her do something she regretted.
“I need something,” he said quietly.
“What?” she asked.
At that moment, the clouds outside the window parted, filling the room with soft moonlight.
Johnny’s face seemed almost to glow under the caress of the moon, then he winced, as if in pain.
“Nothing,” he said quickly. “It was nice to meet you, but I know you have to go. Will you check on me later?”
“Um, sure,” Neve replied.
He had stopped looking at her and was instead staring down at his clenched fists in his lap.
“You’re going to be okay, John Lazarus,” she told him. “Go to a group session.”
But he didn’t answer.
8
Johnny Lazarus sat completely alone, watching the flight of a dark bird across a clear sky. A hawk. Or at least that’s what he thought. He wasn’t much of an expert on birds. When one hawk disappeared, another would take its place, soaring and floating, in an ecstasy of freedom.
After spending first night and half of the morning afterward staring out the floor-to-ceiling glass like a lizard in an aquarium, he had suddenly realized he could go outside, explore a bit. If he could make it through the open lawns and find a private nook or cranny out there someplace he wouldn’t have the issue of interacting with anyone, and he could be quite happy.
He’d stuck his notebook in his pocket and grabbed little Ruby’s case - maybe he’d write, maybe not, but either way he wasn’t leaving her behind.
A brief jog down the long hallways and then out through the cafeteria brought him out on the opposite wing of the sanctuary. Once outside, he’d seen the reflecting pond and benches, and the terraces overlooking the front lawn, and beyond them all, up on a hill, a humble looking shed.
He’d headed down the terrace and up the hill, desperately hoping no one would notice him and follow. Luckily, the afternoon sun was nearly blinding, so hardly anyone was outside.
At last he’d made it to the shed and slipped around behind it.
Oh.
About a hundred yards of emerald grass ended on a cliff face like the one outside windows of his room. Across from that stood another cliff, and beyond that he could see a silvery ribbon which must be a sliver of the ocean still in view even from this distance.
He’d sat down on the ground under the overhang of the shed roof, set little Ruby close beside him, and slowly peeled his banana.
That was when the first bird had dipped into the horizon and mesmerized him.
He’d been out here every day since. As a matter of fact, in the five days since he’d checked in, he’d spent most of his time right here.
There was a distant squeal and then a splash on the other side of the main building as the other patients or guests or inmates or whatever frolicked at the pool. Once in a while Johnny would hear them carrying on.
But here, it was peaceful.
He stared up at the cloudless sky, and watched a lone hawk circle, looking for prey.
Johnny could be up there too, riding the currents, and soaring above the world, peaceful, free.
The hawk dove suddenly, snatching up a smaller bird in mid-flight.
And that was the problem.
No matter how serene its appearance, that hawk couldn’t stop being a hawk. Every beast, big or small, must follow its nature.
And if Johnny ever let the animal part of himself come out again, he wouldn’t just enjoy the flight. His animal would follow its nature as well.
Destruction and chaos.
That was why he couldn’t go home.
If he shared his plan, then Mom and the others would get all touchy-feely about him denying his animal side.
He didn’t blame them. It was easy for them to see the benefits of shifting. When his siblings shifted, they were part of the natural world.
When Johnny did it, he was a storybook monster.
If Derek turned into a bear, people might be a little freaked out, but people knew how to handle a bear. People saw bears all the time. In most of the childhood stories, bears just bumbled around, looking for honey or picnic baskets or some shit.
How would they react if Johnny shifted? How would they feel when he was towering over them, raining down hellfire and death?
Everything he’d ever experienced told him it wouldn’t end well.
He closed his eyes against it, but the memory came up like vomit and he couldn’t escape.
9
The sound of his mother weeping softly drifted from the crack under her door. He had tapped lightly, and then banged when she didn’t call for him to come in.
At last he opened the door the little sliver it had to open to admit his tiny body. He couldn’t see her up in the big bed, but he pulled himself up and crawled over to her.
She was half under blankets, but she opened her arms and he crawled into the blanket cave with her.
He was distraught that she was sad, but his little body was never happier than when he was enveloped in her embrace. She was so warm and gentle, and she smelled like flower shampoo and a dryer, more bitter scent that he wouldn’t recognize as pot until he was much older.
“Oh, Johnny,” she whispered into his hair.
“Mom, what’s wrong?” he asked. Even at that age, he’d already gotten used to playing the grown-up in their relationship.
“It’s Carlo,” she whispered, and then pressed her lips against the top of his head, like she was trying to stop herself from crying.
“What about Carlo?” he asked.
Mom had brought home one or two other boyfriends that Johnny could remember. But Carlo was special. He brought Johnny presents, like playing cards and matchbox cars. And when Carlo left, Mom would smile a special smile and ask Johnny what he thought of him. Even though she already knew the answer.
“He’s not going to come see us anymore,” she said.
“Wh-why not?” Johnny asked.
“It’s grown-up stuff, honey,” she said. “But you and I will be just fine, we don’t need anyone else.”
Why was it always grown-up stuff when it was something bad? It had been grown-up stuff when they couldn’t have a Christmas tree year before last. And it was grown-up stuff when the cable TV was turned off during that winter break.
Things had gotten better when Carlo was around.
“Why isn’t he coming back?” he asked, more insistently.
“It has nothing to do with you, Johnny. Carlo likes you very much and I know he’ll miss you,” she said in her most reassuring tone. Johnny was no dummy though. How could he be reassured when what she said didn’t make sense?
He felt something move in his chest.
“It does have to do with me if I don’t get to see him anymore! Why won’t he come back?” Johnny demanded.
The feeling in his chest grew stronger. It was like something was stuck in there, fluttering, trying to come out.
His mom sat up, pulling the covers off them.
“Let’s get a snack and something nice to drink, then we’ll feel better,” she announced, hopping up and heading for the kitchen.
But Johnny wasn’t going to feel better. Sweat dripped from his forehead, his back ached and his stomach cramped horribly. He couldn’t even call to his mother to tell her something was wrong.
When the pain was so terrible he was sure he was going to die, something ripped through his back. Though it should have hurt, he felt better instantly. He was still wondering over it as his legs burst out of his body, and his arms disappeared, and his face was punched out long until his nose brushed the dresser on the opposite side of the room and shattered the mirror just after he caught sight of the huge shape reflected in it.
His mother peeked back into the room to see what all the noise was about.
He would never forget the horrified look on her face, or the way she screamed.
Johnny screamed too. But it came o
ut with a hissing sound, followed by plumes of fire and billowing smoke.
Oh no.
Mom’s hair was on fire, and her nightgown.
She threw herself to the ground and rolled herself around, screaming.
When the fire was out, she got to her feet unsteadily.
Her face was covered in blisters and black marks. Johnny could smell her cooked flesh, like hot dogs on the grill. It made him want to throw up, but he was terrified of what might come out if he opened his mouth again.
The walls were burning, and the curtains, and the ceiling…
“Hush, baby,” Mom said to him in a quavering voice. “Don’t be scared. Your daddy said this ran in his family and I didn’t believe him, I’m so sorry, baby. The fire can’t harm you because you’re a dragon. But the whole building’s going up. I need to go and get help so no one gets hurt, but you cannot leave this room until you turn back into a little boy. Do you understand?” she asked him.
He cocked his massive head, unable to speak.
“Okay, when you turn back into a boy come out,” she told him. “If anybody asks, you were playing with matches and that’s how this happened.”
Then she ran. And there was nothing for Johnny to do but watch everything burn. The paint peeled off the walls, the bedding went up in flames, the picture of Mom and Johnny and Carlo by the bed crackled as their faces melted into each other.
Johnny was too scared to look anymore. He curled his snout under his wings and squeezed his eyes shut tight.
He must have fallen asleep or maybe the smoke overwhelmed him. When he woke up he was a boy again, and the paramedics were loading him onto a gurney. A policeman was telling him that he was in trouble, a lot of trouble, because little boys who start fires turn into crazy grown-ups.
When he asked for his mother, they told him she was in the hospital, because of the burns he had caused by playing with matches.
Little Johnny was a bad, bad boy.
10
A particularly loud squeal from the pool brought Johnny back to the present.
Somehow the sky didn’t look as blue as before.
