by Abra Ebner
Wes ran his hand through my hair. “I always thought that—I mean—you’re sister always told me…”
I shook my head. “She doesn’t know anything about me,” I mumbled with a hint of self pity.
Wes snorted. “But my thoughts aren’t a turn off, are they?” He looked a little worried.
I laughed. “You’re different, Wes. You were the only person I ever wished I would hear those thoughts from.”
He leaned up and kissed my forehead. “You know, Em, you really are something else.”
I smiled to myself. Finally, he did see me for who I was, and he’d liked it.
“Do you want something to eat?” he asked, one arm resting behind his head, the other hooked around the small of my waist.
I didn’t want to move away from him, afraid that when he stood, the moment would be over and his guilty thoughts toward Jane would return.
“Sure.” I agreed in order to seem agreeable. When we stood, though, Jane’s name was never whispered in his thoughts.
I grinned, hoping the beginning of their end was here.
Max:
“What the Hell was that?” I demanded, grabbing Greg off the couch and holding him in the air. My wings hung from my back. I was undeniably angry.
Greg laughed, enjoying my rage. “It was just a little fun, Brother. I walked in here, saw you dozing, and figured you were there with her. You left yourself open, so I just followed the trail.”
I threw him across the room and he slammed into the wall. “I hate you.”
Greg stood, brushing himself off, not bothering to reciprocate my desire to fight.
“Come on, fight!” I yelled, but Greg just stood there, mocking me.
He shook his head. “No.”
I grumbled and walked from the room, slamming the door behind me, splintering the frame as a result. I’d felt Jane’s emotions as he kissed her. Even if they were fake feelings that had been planted by Greg, it still hurt. My own brother was betraying my every chance at happiness.
I stretched my arm. My shoulder hurt, feeling the pain that my brother now felt from the way I’d thrown him across the room. I heard the door open, falling off the failing hinges.
Greg followed behind me. “She tastes good,” he crooned. “But you wouldn’t know that, would you? And you’re right. Her brush with death gives her a certain pizzazz, doesn’t it?”
I squeezed my eyes shut, my hands clenched. I punched the wall in the hallway, leaving a gaping hole. My wings scraped against the walls, causing strips of wallpaper to flutter to the floor.
I couldn’t be angry with Jane because it wasn’t her fault. All I was left with was anger for Greg. He had a way of brainwashing anyone he wanted, intoxicating them into doing terrible things. I needed a way to stop him. But what could I do that wouldn’t also harm me?
“She is mine,” I hissed. My wings fluffed as I said it, staking my claim.
“Someone that easily persuaded can’t possibly love you. Pathetic dreaming is what it is.” His steps behind me were confident. “The sooner you see this, the sooner you can move on, and I can kill her, like I meant to long ago.”
I spun, thrusting my finger at him. “If you kill her, I’ll kill myself, and you know what that means.” I slid my finger across my throat.
“Oh, won’t that be lovely? Then we can all be truly dead together.” He laughed.
I knew he would say that. I considered it for a moment. If I did finally die, and she did as well, it is true that we would be together forever in the afterlife, but she did not deserve to die. It was for that very reason that I’d saved her to begin with. Jane needed to live. She deserved to have what was taken from me—life.
“Leave me alone,” I grumbled. I walked to my room, slamming the door behind me. It did little to stop him from appearing in front of me, a cloud of smoke dissipating into the air around him.
“I hate our fighting, Brother. We’ve been like this our whole lives. Can’t we just get along?” Greg was pouting, but I knew it was all for show.
“That’s not true, Greg, and you know it. I tried to be your friend and your brother long ago, when we were alive. Remember? So, don’t tell me I didn’t try. You never wanted to be happy, that was the real problem. You enjoyed the pain, even then.” I grabbed a flask from the table and poured a drink. I shot the liquid down my throat and it burned with a delightful release of anxiety. I winced, enjoying the feeling of heat, no matter what the cost.
I threw the glass in the fireplace and flames came to life, filling the room with subtle warmth. I turned back to Greg, but he was gone. Exhaling, I walked to the large bed and sat, putting my head in my hands. I tried to calm my pounding head. I was tired of this, tired of the fight. I wished there was a way to be rid of Greg for good. I rubbed my eyes and reached in my pocket, finding the ring. How could I give this to her? How could I make Jane wear it when she barely knew me? It would seem like I was coming on too strong.
I let it sit on my palm. This would keep her thoughts safe beyond the existing power that keeps him from killing her. As long as I stay with her, protecting her, he cannot harm her, but he can still torment her thoughts as he had in her dream. I know he means to drive me mad that way. He wants to force me to stop watching her so he can get his claws in, but I never will. No matter what emotional pain I have to endure, I will always be her angel.
I put the ring back into my pocket, afraid that Greg would re-appear and see that I had it. Once it’s on her person, there is nothing he can do to get it back. It was an ancient heirloom that had been passed down through the alchemist’s family, from a time when magick was volatile, as it was now. The alchemist knew that his potions were never safe from prying minds, and he had to find a way to protect his most precious thoughts.
It held a sense of peace inside it, something Greg couldn’t understand. It was warm to the touch, and in my pocket it radiated against my leg. Her head needed to be clear. I needed to know that if she could love me, it was for real.
Jane:
After the whirlwind first week of school, where Max and his illusive brother made a larger impression on the student body than I ever could have expected, the week that followed paled in comparison. Wes and Emily continued to give me the silent treatment that had started last Friday in the front yard, and Max had been absent from school with no explanation. Though I’d wanted nothing more than to meet his brother Greg after that dream I’d had, he too seemed to be absent. I knew that when I did finally meet Greg, and if he looked exactly like the Greg I’d seen in my dream, then my dreams were more than just my imagination, but fact. I shivered, because if that happened, it meant that all the other dying people I saw there were also real, adding a whole new twist to what I thought was only fantasy.
I pulled the seat back in Wes’s car, glancing at Emily as she climbed in the backseat. She was different somehow, but I couldn’t quite decide what it was. As she sat, her eyes avoided mine, hiding something from me as they had all week. I looked at Wes, but he also looked away from me. I knew he was upset with me. His continued foreseen death involving me as the murderer hadn’t faded, but it wasn’t just that. His obvious avoidance harbored another sort of emotion than hate.
I sat back against the seat and looked out the window, watching the fog of my breath film the glass. It was another sweet Friday, and I was at least thankful to have two weeks of my senior year under my belt. My fears that Max knew about the dream pressed my mind. I blamed it for his disappearance from my life. What other explanation could there be for his absence from school, especially in the second week? I’d thought we’d hit it off, but the silence said otherwise. Maybe it was all a dream and I would eventually wake up. Then, things could go back to the way they were last year. I mean, I get it. Perhaps there was a Gordon family crisis of some kind, but still, you at least call a girl to inform her of that.
I heard Emily sit back, pulling the headphones from her bag and placing the buds into her ears. The music blared despite their snu
g home. I looked at Wes, seeing he had a slight smirk on his face, clearly amused by Emily’s actions. I began to wonder what had transpired between them. I would be blind not to notice it. There was a sense of calm since the day Wes had disappeared with Emily. His blinds hadn’t opened for days, and though I tried to keep track of where Emily was, I couldn’t watch her all the time. They were hanging out, and I knew it.
I cleared my throat as he backed out of the driveway. “How are you, Wes?” I was hoping to finally break the ice.
Wes glanced at me, his face now blank. “Fine.” He shifted the car into drive and the engine roared. His smirk faded, and the color in his cheeks faded.
I nodded, sensing it was going to be difficult to get him to talk. “Wes, I don’t want you to hate me.” I dove right in, knowing I had a limited amount of time alone with him before we arrived at school—the only time he could manage to be near me.
I put my hand on his as it sat on the shifter. He jerked away and looked in the rearview mirror at Emily. Clearly, there was something between them. A flash of jealousy washed down my spine.
“She’s not looking. She can’t even hear over all that noise,” I reminded him, sounding mildly annoyed. Wes always relished my attention, but now he seemed to scorn it.
He shrugged, looking uncomfortable. “Yeah, I know.” His answer was vague.
I tilted my head. “What about the pain? How is it?”
Wes leaned against the door slightly. “What pain?”
I let out a sharp breath, pursing my lips. “Wes, don’t pretend it didn’t happen.” He was shutting me out. “What did the doctor say this week?”
“It’s gone,” he snapped. “So, I didn’t go.”
I felt hurt by his sudden bitterness. I looked away from him, eyeing Emily. She gave me a sassy smile and rolled her eyes. I glared at her, and it was then that I noticed what was different about her. Her makeup was lighter than normal, and her typical black cherry lipstick was replaced by something with a hint of pink. Her clothes had not changed, and her short skirt was shorter than ever, but the visual difference of her face was change enough. At least she had a coat on, even if it was lined with tacky fake fur. The eyeliner around her eyes was half the thickness, and for the first time since she was thirteen, I felt I could distinguish the color of them. And the clarity—she was drug free.
I found myself gawking as Emily gave me another annoyed look. I was quick to turn back forward, feeling out of the loop and insulted. The rest of the ride was rather uncomfortable, and the tension never faltered. When we arrived at school, I saw that Liz was waiting in the shadows of the corridor, hiding in her bright yellow rain coat and designer jeans. She gave me an eager look, followed by a little wave. I rolled my eyes, waving back as we parked. Today I was hardly in the mood to listen to her woes about life as a popular girl. More than likely, she was still bitter about the fact that Max had passed her up last week, and I knew she just wanted to spout off some excuse to why it happened.
I got out of the car. Wes barely looked at me as our doors slammed in unison. He pretended to fumble with the lock as I stared at him over the top of the car. I finally gave up and turned toward the school, releasing a surrendering breath. Emily did not bother to remove her headphones, walking on ahead of the both of us. Whatever her issues were, it at least seemed harmless in comparison to the many other things it could have been.
Liz waved at me a second time, her gestures flagrant considering her habit of pretending I didn’t exist. I grumbled, knowing there was no way I could avoid her at this point. I broke away from the wet pavement of the lot, joining her in the shelter of the corridor. She touched my arm, smiling in a fake manner.
“Are we still on for tomorrow?” Her eyes were large, like a full moon. When she grinned, I saw that her teeth were in a perfect white row.
I had a hard time reading her expression, barely able to look past her new foreseen death—dying alone. “Sure.” Didn’t we always get together on Saturday? Perhaps after last Saturday’s tenuous talks over Max, she had feared I’d finally grown sick of her games.
Liz laughed, giving me a playful nudge. “What’s wrong with you? Do you think I’m mad?”
I shrugged.
She continued to giggle awkwardly. “I’m not angry with you over Max! Is that what you thought? Life is not always about boys.” I waited for the line that would inevitably justify that fact, and also insult me somehow. “He’s not really my type, anyway.” She looked dismayed. “Too dark for my taste. Not to mention a totally unstylish dresser.” She turned up her nose. “But he’s perfect for you.”
It was so kind of her to regard me as dark and unfashionable. I could hardly contain my excitement. I nodded, figuring it was easier to agree.
“But I still want to gossip about him, don’t you?” She winked at me.
I considered my options for Saturday once more. I had no foreseen plans, and considering the fact that Max had seemed to forget about me, and everything else since last Friday, I didn’t see the harm in some form of social interaction. Especially being that my only other friend hated me.
“Sure,” I mumbled.
Liz jumped. “Oh, great! Then how about two o’clock?”
I nodded as someone leisurely leaned against the wall at the end of the otherwise empty corridor. I glanced at the person, my heart leaping when I saw it was Max. He grinned at me, crossing his arms. “I—I…uh…” I’d forgotten what Liz had asked me, too shocked by his sudden appearance.
“Jane? Hel—lo?” She sang, noticing that I was distracted. She looked in the direction I had, and let out a low whistle. “Speaking of the devil,” she whispered. “Where’s he been?” She stared shamelessly, indicating that though she claimed he wasn’t her type, he really was. “I’ll leave you be, then. Two o’ clock, remember that,” she stated. I felt her pat me on the back as she left, her footsteps echoing away in a blur.
I forgot about Liz altogether. I swallowed hard, thinking of my dream. My feet were sewn to the pavement of the corridor, unwilling to move despite my need to talk with him. Max spared me, walking toward me instead. I watched him, as though it were in slow-motion—like an old romance movie. His gait was the same gait he had in my dream, right down to the slight pause he took when putting weight on his left foot. It was as though my mind knew every tick, though I hadn’t known him all that long.
Max reached me. “Hey.” His voice was cool. Clearly he wasn’t experiencing the same horrible anxiety that I was.
“H—Hi.” I bit my lip, my eyes trying all they could to avoid his. My cheeks flushed as guilt and embarrassment stirred my stomach. What if it was true? What if he really did know about my dreams?
I heard him breath softly. “Excuse my absence over the past few days. I was a bit distracted with some things at home.” He lifted one brow. “Moving can be difficult at times. It can really put a lot of stress on the family.”
So my notions were right. It was a family thing. I blinked a few times. My head ached with the thought of his family. I was hoping he wasn’t referencing the fact that his brother had kissed me, implying it to be the reason for the unrest. I forced myself to nod, my eyes dancing across his.
“How have you been, Beautiful?” he pressed. “Did you forget about me? Perhaps find yourself a new person to stalk in my absence?”
I giggled, his comment easing my burden. I hated that he was leading our conversation. I was usually so well spoken, but whenever he was around my words became a mess in my head. At least he had bloomed a little, speaking more than one word questions and answers.
I was fidgeting. I needed to remember that my dreams were just that: dreams. Just. A. Dream. It was absurd to think that he could know them. It was as though I believed someone could get into my head, which, with all respect to the world of psychics, just wasn’t possible, especially—
Max cleared his throat. I stopped thinking.
“Sorry, I…” I moved my weight to my other foot, trying to concentrate. “
I’m fine.”
He ran a hand through his hair—his other hand behind his back as he leaned against the lockers. “Fine? Just fine?”
I felt the corners of my mouth curl, but I forced them down. “Well, yes.” I wanted to say it was because he had left with no explanation, leaving me falling into an eternal hole of anxiety and regret. Not to mention the fact that I really did feel like a stalker for roving the whole school every day this week, just in the hopes of finding him. I’d been left with no way to call him, no way to know what last week had meant.
Max leaned back on his heels, his stance amused. He wore a black sweater, the wool furled ever so slightly as though washed the wrong way. The sleeves were casually pressed back to his elbows, exposing the ever present tattoos.
His hand moved to my chin, lifting it. He forced me to look into his eyes, the exact same eyes in my dream. “What are you doing tonight?” He was calm and confident, his lips shaping around the words in a way that made my heart flutter.
His breath was intoxicating, laced with the sugary mint smell I’d tasted in the dream. I exhaled through my nose until the breath was void from my lungs, not wanting to give in so easily. I calmed myself. “Nothing.” I thought of the Jane Austen book I was planning to read.
“Would you like to come meet my grandfather?”
I felt a surge of excitement as the hope exploded, my feet feeling as though they had left the ground. I smiled wide, unable to contain it. “Yes!” My attempts to remain cool had failed—Jane Austen was dead.
