by Tasha Black
He relaxed his hold on the creature inside him the tiniest bit. Go ahead. Help if you can help.
Say my name.
I won’t.
Then you and your playmates are on your own.
Fine. Dragon.
Very well.
His vision slid into a kaleidoscope of gray. The world looked like a pencil drawing: gray wood on gray stones on gray sand.
But there was no need for light. It was as if everything were in a permanent twilight.
He scanned the area, but didn’t have to look far.
Next to the piled wood, something moved.
He stood, meaning to confront it, but the dragon recoiled.
Careful, boy.
He looked again.
The dragon’s vision was in grays except for spikes in the thermal spectrum.
The thing by the wood glowed cool blue.
No, that couldn’t be right - blue was an absence of heat. If someone was there, they would be warm.
Was it a trap?
He tasted the air and his tongue nearly froze to his lips. His blood chilled in his veins.
The shimmering blue shadow moved slightly.
The mark on Johnny’s arm flashed fresh pain.
This thing, this abomination, it was here for him.
As he fought to take in the idea of it, the thing moved out into the open.
Johnny could see it, but he still couldn’t make it out. It was like every time he tried to focus on a part of it, the edges went all burry.
Terror filled him, reminding him of waking up from the nightmares of childhood, shivering in the twin bed, and staring down the monster in the corner that was pretending to be a pile of clothes.
Like then, he was both petrified and furious at once.
Fuck that thing for trying to frighten him. Johnny Lazarus had gone through hell and walked out the other side.
But this was not the stuff of childhood dreams. This was real. It had formed itself almost like a man, but it walked as if it were pulled sideways by some otherworldly gravity.
The way the thing slanted toward him against the backdrop of palm trees made it clear he wasn’t asleep and this was no pile of laundry.
Should he run?
Where would you go?
The dragon’s disdain added to his fury.
And then it was only a few feet away, and he could feel it already, as if it had hungry feelers extended out in front of it, brushing his skin.
Closer, it came.
Johnny felt himself getting colder still.
It was sapping his strength.
One more tilted step and it would be on him.
And what if Johnny just let go? Would that be so hard?
For a dreamy heartbeat, Johnny indulged the idea of giving up the fight, letting the icy numbness take over.
He saw Harkness Farms, dormant in a desolate Pennsylvania January. He saw the gray in Mom’s auburn curls.
Before he could reach out to touch it, the springtime of Neve filled his senses: the tang of sushi in his mouth, the sapphire salt of a single tear rolling down her sienna cheek, the cadence of her index finger, tapping the beat of his heart song against the curve of her thigh.
Mmm, the dragon agreed appreciatively.
Rage filled Johnny’s heart again. He would fight the shadow to the ends of the earth. It would not come near her.
But how did you fight a shadow?
Do what you’re best at, boy. Maybe it will be enough. Or you COULD let me come out to play…
But…
Just be yourself Johnny. Mom’s voice was in his head now too. That part was only an echo, from a time when he’d been bullied as a kid.
The only thing Johnny had ever been good at, the only time he’d ever felt himself was when the music was rocketing through him like he was a roman candle.
His mind searched for the right song, but nothing was coming and the creature was inches away. He could see the hollow of its approximation of a mouth.
Without thinking, he belted out the opening lines from Jocelyn’s song, Hearts on Fire.
They were both surprised for a moment.
Johnny more so because he had chosen a song any human assailant might have found hilarious. He tried not to picture Jocelyn in the over-the-top tiger print halter dress she’d worn in the video.
The evil thing took another slow step toward him, and Johnny began singing again quickly.
The shadow froze in its tracks.
Encouraged, Johnny sang louder.
It began to retreat in jerking slow motion. The movement so creepy, Johnny almost looked away.
Instead, he took up the second chorus and began to play the guitar along with the words.
The creature startled and moved all the way back to the wood pile.
A mistake.
Johnny nudged the dragon.
With a dramatic sigh, it acquiesced to his wishes.
The wood burst into flames instantly.
The shadow creature let out an agonized whimpering sound that Johnny felt more than heard, then seemed to melt away before Johnny’s eyes.
Had he killed it?
He didn’t think so.
But he’d hurt it. That was good.
Though it could still be out there somewhere, licking its wounds.
Johnny looked down at the mark on his arm - it was still. And he didn’t feel the unnatural cold.
He wasn’t about to stop singing anytime soon. Just in case.
His blood warmed from the inside out with every word of the familiar break-up song.
15
“What the hell is that?” Jocelyn asked.
They all stopped panicking to listen.
The music drifted to them from the courtyard.
An upbeat pop song - one of Jocelyn’s patented break-up anthems. Neve had heard it on the radio about a million times, and she liked it way more than she’d care to admit.
But this was different. It had a more pensive feel, and the way the lyrics sounded against the acoustic guitar…
Without another word, they all followed the music outside, feeling their way in the darkness as if they’d been called by the Pied Piper.
Neve felt the lightness in her heart and feet that told her before they arrived exactly who was out there playing.
As she rounded the curve of the building, she saw him.
Johnny had built a bonfire in the big circular pit.
She stood there a moment, watching his face glow in the firelight as the others rushed over to join him. When Jocelyn laughed and joined her own song, the others tentatively began to sing along too.
Neve didn’t waste any time. She mobilized the nearby staff, as well as any patients willing to help. Together, they brought out the food tables and drinks. Neve even slipped off to the kitchen to dig up some marshmallows.
Before long, they had a full-fledged campfire sing-along going. The warmth returned to the night breeze, and everyone had forgotten all about the power.
Action had always been her response to life’s happiness, when her heart was full to bursting for no reason she could imagine. Doing for others gave the happiness a place to escape, leaving room for more and more to overflow.
And why shouldn’t she celebrate? Fear in the group had given way to laughter. Anguish had been followed by the best kind of peace, the kind found under the stars, found in the eyes of friends who knew common struggles and laughed into the darkness anyway.
It was enough to make a nurse’s heart shine.
So why was she only thinking of amber eyes shining in the firelight, and long fingers dancing on strings?
Johnny was so different when he was performing.
In the session he’d seemed too tall, too lanky, too big to fit into a regular world. He’d listened with interest, with compassion even, but there had been a coldness to him that she couldn’t explain, a sense of cool watchfulness that unsettled her a little.
But with the guitar in his hands,
he was just the right size, and his expression was limitless. He was playful, he was passionate, he was thoughtful. There was no emotional editor looking over his shoulder here.
Neve saw immediately that in his performance, Johnny was his best self.
“Piano Man,” Ed shouted hoarsely when Johnny’s rendition of Happy was over.
Obligingly, Johnny began to play. And damned if it wasn’t a pretty good attempt at the classic. He knew every word to every song they could think of.
They all cheered and before her eyes, she watched Barb, Mimi and Bonnie fling their arms around each other and begin to sway, singing along loudly.
Jocelyn watched out of the corner of her eye and Barb yelled to her.
“Come on, Princess Lizard, get in here!”
Oh boy.
Neve was pleased when Jocelyn scooted over quickly and threw her arm over the older woman’s shoulder, Tacos curling in the crook of her outside arm.
Johnny smiled and sang.
And then it clicked.
This. This was what he needed.
The high of performing was what he was chasing in the bottle.
Addicts who specifically chased extreme highs could be a bit different from those who seemed to be self-medicating depression. Extreme high chasers could sometimes be helped with replacement therapy - finding another thrill to replace the thrill of the high from drugs and alcohol.
Neve had been reading a lot about this idea, hoping it might help some of the patients who weren’t responding to standard therapy. She’d cleared with McGrath that she could begin to point patients toward the under-utilized sporting facilities at the sanctuary so that they could explore some limited adventure therapy during their stay. So far, the results had been promising. Maybe Johnny would respond to something like that.
Then his eyes found hers from across the bonfire and she forgot all about theories and treatments.
The campus seemed to melt away until there was nothing and no one but Johnny Lazarus, singing only to her.
The song ended too quickly, and Jocelyn grabbed Clarence and ran up to Johnny, giggling. She whispered in his ear, and he nodded.
The first few notes of the Beatles’ song of new life and new hope floated across the fire and tears prickled Neve’s eyes.
“I can’t, I can’t,” Clarence was protesting. But his smiling eyes gave him away.
“Oh no you don’t, I heard you singing this the other day!” Jocelyn scolded him sternly.
“Only if you sing it with me,” he said.
She nodded and they both began.
A hush fell over the group.
At just that moment, the lights went on inside, the exterior lights followed them a second later.
No one even looked up. They were lost in the song.
Music was like that, music healed, music transported.
If Neve had her way, she would do more therapy like this. Everyone needed a creative outlet. If there were more emphasis on expressing oneself with dignity, society might not need rehab in the first place.
On the other side of the bonfire, Johnny handed his guitar over to Jocelyn as if he were handing her a newborn.
She looked up at him in wonder.
He nodded and winked, and she smiled back, and took up the song on her own.
Neve expected him to join the others, but instead he wandered into the darkness just outside the circle of firelight.
Concerned, she went to him. The smell of the fire seemed almost stronger near him. It must have soaked into his clothes when he lit the blaze.
“Johnny,” she whispered when she was a few feet away.
He seemed lost in thought, looking out through the palm trees to the cliffs.
“Neve,” he turned to her, placing a hand on her shoulder in a gesture she could only describe as protective.
She felt a spark at his touch, as if he were drawing something out of her.
He pulled his hand away quickly.
“It’s amazing what you did out there,” she said.
“Yeah, I’ve been practicing all my life,” he said with a wry smile.
“No, silly, with them,” she teased. “Thank you for saving me from a band of terrified patients with no movie to watch.”
“Oh,” he seemed surprised, then understanding dawned and he gave her a genuine smile. “They’re alright. I think we all needed to let off a little steam.”
She would have believed him, except that he looked past her again, into the darkness.
She turned to look too, but there was nothing there.
When she turned back to him, his handsome face showed signs of strain again, there was a tightness in his jaw.
It was amazing how different he was without the guitar.
“Listen, I’m glad you decided to try the group session, John, even if you had to… do it on your own terms,” she gestured at the scene behind him.
He nodded in acknowledgement, then studied the darkness intently again, this time over her opposite shoulder.
What the heck was he looking for?
She thought for an instant about the coldness, and the whispering of his name, but pushed it aside immediately.
“I can see that performing is where you find the meaning in your life,” she continued. “The thrill of connecting with people must be dizzying.”
He turned his attention back to her, an odd expression on his face.
She powered on.
“But you can’t perform every day. I wonder if your drinking might be a way of mimicking that feeling,” she mused aloud, waiting for him to take the bait.
He didn’t.
“You need to find some replacement behaviors,” she told him. “Activities that will give you the same kind of rush, so you don’t have to look for it in a bottle.”
He gave her his attention then.
Under the full focus of those golden eyes Neve was almost hypnotized.
One corner of his mouth lifted slightly.
“Replacement behaviors?” he asked innocently.
But his voice was anything but innocent.
She could practically feel his hands on her body, studying her feverish response with that same cool indifference he’d been giving to the stars.
No. No, Neve, snap out of it.
“Yes, like bungee jumping,” she heard herself say brightly, although her mind kept trying to wander to other, less appropriate behaviors.
He laughed softly, the raspy sound awakening something hungry inside her.
“No. No, I don’t think I need bungie jumping,” he told her. “I think I’ll be just fine without that.”
“Admitting your demons are real is the first step in coming to terms with them,” she said, trying not to give in to her traitorous, unprofessional body, which wanted to know exactly what he wouldn’t be fine without.
But there was no need.
At her words, his face was haunted again, and he searched the shadows once more.
He seemed… scared.
“What do you suggest?” he asked.
“Adventure therapy of some kind, if not bungee jumping, then something else high adrenaline. I’ve seen it work wonders.”
“I don’t want to jump out of an airplane, and I don’t want to run with the bulls, Neve,” he told her, his mouth caressing her name.
“What about zip lining, rock climbing, whitewater kayaking, hang gliding…” she began.
“Kayaking,” he said. “I’ve been kayaking with my brothers. That doesn’t sound too bad.”
“Excellent, we have kayaking right here at our facility. I’ll set you up with Maurice for tomorrow, okay?” she offered.
“Maurice?” he snorted. “No way, I’m not going unless you do.”
“Uh, kayaking is… not really my thing,” she hedged.
It might have been the understatement of the year.
“So there’s nothing you’re trying to get your mind off of?” he asked.
Suddenly the heat of his amber eyes was
on her again, she looked up, immobilized by his gaze. His dark hair moved across his jaw slightly in the breeze, accentuating the granite stillness of his features.
“F-fair enough,” she agreed, unable to argue.
“Who was it?” Johnny asked.
“What do you mean?”
“Who did you lose?” he asked. “I can see it in your eyes. It’s like looking in a mirror.”
“My mom,” she said, almost without thinking. She’d never talked to anyone about it before. But when he looked at her like that, she thought she might tell him anything he asked.
“I’m sorry,” he said simply. He did push, or prod. He didn’t ask any follow up questions or offer any empty platitudes. But the look in his eyes told her he understood.
“What time, Neve?” he asked gently.
“Huh?”
“For the kayaking.”
“Oh,” she said. “Eight AM.”
“There’s an eight in the AM, too?” he teased, effortlessly shifting the mood back to playful.
Neve felt like someone had lifted a huge weight from her shoulders, and she might fly away. She pictured herself soaring through the air with Johnny, light as a breeze, all of her cares shrinking as the ground fell away beneath them.
He smiled and clasped her arm again.
She waited for the familiar trickle of sensation.
Instead, she got a flood. An unexpected surge of heat passed between them and her knees almost buckled. This wasn’t just lust.
This was something else.
He made an agonized sound she would have described as a muted roar, and pulled her closer, so close she was sure he would kiss her.
Silence from the group reached her ear and she turned to see if they were watching her fall under his spell.
But it had only been the end of the song.
Jocelyn quickly broke into another.
Neve gasped in relief and pulled away from Johnny.
From the other side of the fire, she recognized the opening riff of Addicted to Love.
From her place behind the guitar, Jocelyn winked at her.
Busted.
16
