by Chloe Garner
“So Krista is standing there, her gun is who knows where,” Carson said, “and the goblin walks up to her, all hissing and spitting and making a big deal, and she winds up to punch it.”
“God I love her,” Jason said.
“I know, right? So she’s ready to clock this beast, and Tanner comes around the corner and he pulls out a gun and he shoots it. Her fist goes through nothing but ash. For a solid minute, I swear, I swear she thought she had punched a goblin to death.”
“It died of fright. I saw it,” Jason said.
“Right?”
Jason laughed.
“We need to get together and go kill stuff, all six of us, just for old times’ sake,” Jason said. “Man, we could take an army.”
“I know, right?”
“You have got to see this one work,” Jason said. “She and Krista… Man, they’d be scary.”
“Sexy as hell,” Carson said.
“That’s your sister you’re talking about,” Jason said.
“Yeah, obviously you’re not allowed to say it,” Carson said.
“To that,” Jason said, holding up his beer. Carson laughed and drank. Jason indicated with his beer.
“You ought to look over there,” Jason said, shovelling peanuts into his mouth. “There’s a guy staring at you.”
Samantha turned.
He was standing against the bar, watching her as though he had been there all night. Her mouth went dry. He smiled. She felt her heart stop.
“Go,” Jason said.
She stood slowly and her mysterious friend pushed himself off the bar, weaving through the tables toward her. He held out a hand and she gave him hers and he led her out into the midst of the swirling bodies.
And for the first time that night, she heard the music.
He pulled her against his side, leading her through a complex series of steps, then spun her away and they picked up where they had left off. His eyes were intense and more than once she found herself taking musical cues from him because she had simply lost track. She had complained often to Abby about guys borrowing beat from her because they had none of their own. She had never before felt like she couldn’t find the way the music played her body. She closed her eyes, pulling at the simple beat, finding the more complex rhythms to the lyrics and the instruments, then threw herself into it, opening her eyes to find him grinning at her as they stepped up the complexity of their game. He came ever closer to her, not touching, but often filling the space where she had just been or was about to be, forming complimentary shapes to her own and playing on counter rhythms within the music.
Again, she found her hair wet and her body hot, strung tight with exuberantly controlled motion. She had no concept of time.
The music changed to something slower, deeper, and rolling, and he stepped against her, his body taking shape to match hers and his hand on the slick skin of her lower back. Her breath caught, but he rolled her back over his hand, still moving as an element of the music. She felt as thought her sweat should have boiled. His eyes were nearly closed as he looked down at the point where her neck met her shoulder. She closed her eyes, taking in the smell of his skin, and completely let go of her awareness of everything but the music and his body.
She didn’t know what happened next, in choreographic detail, but she remembered every detail of what it felt like. It was as if the entire night had been practice, demonstrating that they could move as one body. She could feel muscles stretch and pull as he danced, neither leading nor following. They simply were.
The song transitioned awkwardly to a much more up-tempo one, and his lips found hers. They stood still, quietly, almost unmoving, then he broke away.
“I need to go,” he said softly, pulling his hand away from her back and stepping away from her. “I’ll see you around.”
“Wait,” she said. He raised his eyelids to look her in the eyes. “Who are you?”
“I’m Alexander,” he said. “Who are you?”
“I’m Sam.”
“I’ll see you around, Sam.”
She started to argue, but he was already making his way through the crowd. Jason watched him walk past, then looked back at Samantha. She gave him a desperate, exasperated look. He grinned, and she made her way back to the table, leaning against it for balance as she waited for the unreality to fade.
“Wow,” Carson said. “Kara wasn’t lying.”
“So… you’ve got a new friend,” Jason said mock confidentially. “Do you at least know his name, now?”
“Alexander,” she said, still feeling lost. Like she wasn’t supposed to be standing by herself, like this.
“And… how about a phone number?”
“No.”
“Address?”
“No.”
“Any method of contacting him at all? Carrier pigeon? Pony express? Smoke signals?”
“No.”
“He plays a slow game,” Carson said.
“Gotta give it to him, he’s got balls,” Jason said.
“What?”
“Leave you like that. Risk that he’ll see you again. He’s going to make an addict out of you.”
“Or never see her again,” Carson said. “Risky.”
“Ballsy.”
“Can we not talk about it?” Samantha asked, her eyelids fluttering as she tried to put the mystical effect of the music together with the bar table conversation.
“Hey, baby. You want to dance?” someone asked her.
“No thank you,” she said.
“You sure? It looked like you were having… such a good time,” he said. She turned.
“No. Thank you.”
The stranger waggled his eyebrows at her.
“She said no, buddy. Leave it alone,” Jason said.
“Was I talking to you, pal?”
“She’s with us,” Carson said.
“The guy she was with just left,” the man said. “I’m asking her to dance. You can mind your own business.”
Samantha held up a hand.
“No thank you. Really.”
She sat.
“I’m sitting right over there,” he said, pointing to a table with five other men sitting at it.
“Okay.”
He waggled his eyebrows at her again, then left. She folded her arms on the table and dropped her head onto them. Music throbbed in her head like a fishhook.
“You want to go?” Jason asked.
“I can’t,” she said.
“What?”
“I have to go dance. I can’t.”
She felt the muscles in her back, hot and tight, screaming to play. She stood up and spun away from the table.
“I have to.”
“Go,” Jason said, waving her off and grinning. “You’ve earned a night off.”
She fled back into the crowd, claiming a space with wide-planted feet, and just let the music roll off of her. She flung her hair once or twice just to let it stick to her face, then dipped and flipped it back over her back, the rush of air against her neck cold enough to give her shivers.
“Knew you’d be back out here,” the man with the fidgety eyebrows said. She opened her eyes and found him where she expected he would be - too close. He smelled of whiskey. She turned away, trying to find extra space in the crush of bodies. He followed.
“Look, thank you. I just…”
He grabbed her waist and pulled her against him, and she pushed away.
“Please, I just want to dance by myself,” she said.
“Not from what I saw,” he said.
“Hey,” Jason said. “You promised me a dance.”
Samantha pulled away from the drunk with the eyebrows and let Jason step in between them. She sighed as the man grunted and left.
“This is stupid,” she said.
“You’re allowed to dance if you want to,” Jason said.
“Let’s just go,” she said.
“I’ll go say something to him,” Jason said. “Have fun. Don’t worry ab
out him.”
Samantha watched as Jason went over to the table the man had indicated and spoke to one of his friends. The other man laughed and nodded, slapping Jason on the back. The one who had bothered Samantha returned from the bar with more glasses, and his friend said something to him. He glared at Jason, then walked back toward Samantha. She backed away, looking for exits. He got to her before Jason did.
“Listen, I want to dance with you, and I don’t care what your boyfriend says about it,” he said.
“He isn’t my boyfriend,” Samantha said, trying to avoid his hands.
“Then what the hell does he care?” the man said. Jason got to her and pulled him back at nearly the same time his friend did. His friend wrapped an arm over his shoulder and across his chest, pulling him back and saying something into his ear. Jason put an arm in front of Samantha and she pushed it away.
“If you want to pulverize him, I’ll back your play,” Jason said.
“I don’t want to fight him. That wouldn’t be even a little bit fair,” Samantha said.
“So? Carson’s in, too.”
Samantha glanced over at the table, where Carson was watching with intense, alert posture. She sighed.
“I am not getting in a bar fight with you two.”
“Sorry,” the friend called as he pulled the man with the eyebrows back to the table.
“Look, it’s fine,” Jason said. “All over. We can stay as long as you want.”
The competing instincts to dance and to flee finally settled.
“Just a few more minutes.”
“Whatever. I don’t get to sit and drink with Carson very often. Whatever you want.”
Jason left, still eyeing the other table, and, after a minute, Samantha managed to put herself back under into the music. She danced until she was exhausted, the rush of endorphins and bliss coming back. She could feel Sam sleeping, not too far away, much more peacefully now and she imagined that, on some level, they were dancing together. Not the steps or the motions, but the swirling concoction of ideas between them, purging the dark shadows that had plagued him since she had pulled Carly out of him. She danced with Sam until she could barely stand and when she finally made her way back to the table, she realized with a start how much emptier the bar was. Carson offered her his unopened beer, waving at the waitress for another, and she opened it on the side of the table.
“You ready?” Jason asked. She nodded.
“Let me finish this,” she said, then took a couple of breaths, surprised that she was out of breath. “Then we can go.”
He nodded.
“So how is Tanner doing with his new Seeker? I heard he got switched.”
“Okay. You know how that goes. How long have you guys been with Simon?”
“Basically the whole time. Since we stopped going out with Arthur,” Jason said.
“So you don’t know how it goes,” Carson said, shaking his head. “You two always were prodigies.”
“Two of us, as much as anything,” Jason said.
“Oh come on, don’t be modest,” Carson said. “Your score board is amazing.”
“We’ve had as many close scrapes as anyone,” Jason said.
“Can we get the check?” Carson asked when the waitress brought him his beer. She smiled and nodded, heading back to the bar. She brought it back and Samantha snatched it.
“Tonight’s on me,” she said. “A celebration.”
“Of what?” Jason asked.
“Getting Sam back,” she said.
“Not hooking up with tall, dark, and mysterious?” Jason asked.
“That, too, but if you use that term for it again I’ll stab you in the knee,” Samantha said. Carson grinned and drained his beer. Samantha left a stack of bills on the check and they left.
In the parking lot, a group of men was leaning against a pickup. One of them made a bunch of animated motions at the others and separated from the group, walking over to Samantha, Jason, and Carson. It was the friend.
“He’s angry. He wants to fight you,” he said to Jason. “I can’t get him to go home.”
“You and me, jackass,” the one with the eyebrows yelled.
“That’s plenty for me,” Jason said, taking off his jacket. He looked at the friend. “No hard feelings, dude.”
Samantha sighed and looked at Carson, then walked over to the Cruiser and leaned against it. The friend and Carson followed her over and leaned on either side of her. She looked at the friend.
“Loser’s friend calls the end of the fight, winner’s friend breaks it up?” she asked.
“I say we let the winner beat the loser into pink pulp,” Carson said. Samantha frowned at him. “I’ve got a sister,” he added. She rolled her eyes.
“You think you could pull him off?” the friend asked, motioning to Jason.
“I do.”
“And I’m supposed to just trust you on that?”
“Yup.”
He considered.
“Deal.” He sighed. “Sorry about this. He’s an ugly drunk.”
Samantha smiled, against her better nature.
“It’s okay. My friend is itching to punch something.”
“Convenient.”
“Hey, your buddy picked the fight.”
“You guys are too civil about this,” Carson said. “They’re supposed to beat each other bloody, until neither of them can stand any more.”
“That would be called manslaughter,” Samantha said. The friend nodded and crossed his arms.
“You really think your guy is going to win?” he asked. Samantha looked at the man with the twitchy eyebrows. He was a giant bruiser of a man with a shaved head. He had peeled off his shirt at one point to make a point about how muscular and angry he was. Jason stood upright facing the wide stance and spread arms of the half-naked bald man, just waiting.
“I do.”
“Good luck to him. This is what Greg does for entertainment on the weekends.”
“Maybe not any more after this weekend,” Samantha said. The friend nodded.
“That would be a relief. You haven’t asked if I’m sure I could break it up.”
Samantha shook her head.
“Doesn’t matter.”
Greg the bald man stomped toward Jason and Samantha nearly made a Hulk joke, but figured it was inappropriate. Jason stood, inanimate, waiting. Greg pulled one meaty arm back to punch Jason, and Jason swung at his exposed jaw, a short, quick uppercut, and Greg’s head snapped back. And stuck there. His arm dropped first, then his knees gave. He landed hard on his lower back as he tipped, his feet coming clear of the ground as he fell flat.
“I think that looks like ‘loser’ to me,” Samantha said. “What do you think?”
“Yup,” the friend said. “You going to make good?”
“Of course. Same way you would have,” she said, pushing off of the Cruiser and walking over to Jason as he stood over Greg, his leg suspended behind him as he considered kicking the unconscious man. She wrapped her fingers around his elbow.
“You feel better?” she asked. The muscles in his jaw flexed, then relaxed.
“Yeah, actually.”
“Can we go?”
Jason looked at the shirtless man on the pavement in his heavy combat boots and army-surplus pants.
“You aren’t going to let me kick him, just for good measure, are you?”
“No. It wasn’t part of the agreement,” Samantha said.
“With who?” Jason asked.
“Him,” Samantha said, jerking her head back toward the Cruiser.
“Carson agreed to it?”
“Carson thought you should turn him into gremlin bait,” Samantha said. “The civil guy and I agreed to terms, though.”
“But you knew I’d win,” Jason said. “If I’d known the terms, I’d have taken my time about it.”
“I know,” she said. “You knocked him flat in one punch. Take the victory.”
Jason looked down at Greg again and scuffed h
is toe against the pavement.
“Not even a little kick?”
“Sorry, Beloved. This far and no further. Let’s go.”
He sighed and let her lead him away. She nodded to the friend, who smiled.
“Impressive,” he said. “I figured it’d take two or three of us to break them up. Always has before.”
“That isn’t who we are,” Samantha said.
“Me, neither,” the friend said.
“You need better drinking friends,” she said. He shrugged.
“I guess I do.”
Carson sighed as he got into the Cruiser.
“And here I thought I was going to get to watch a decent fight,” he said. Samantha frowned at him, again surprised.
“I didn’t take you for that kind of blood-thirsty,” she said. Jason laughed, starting the engine.
“You’ve never seen him work,” he said.
<><><>
Over the course of the next week, they went back to the bar every night. The third night, Sam started coming with them. He was recovering slowly, both from the possession and from the purge, and he wasn’t ready to talk about what had happened. Samantha accepted that he probably never would be. It appeared Carly hadn’t fiddled with the cap on his memories, but it was hard to be sure, and Samantha kept a close eye on him, anyway. The shadow of the weeks she had spent trying to cure him was ever-present at the back of her mind, and it began to feel like they were both hiding things from each other for their own good.
The only relief was when she was dancing. Sam would sit at a table with Jason, laughing and talking, as she played, her body chemically squeezing out the darkness and the sadness and the fear. They didn’t see Alexander again.
After the fourth day, Carson told them that his Seeker had found something, and he left. Doris cried as he pulled out of the driveway, then made them promise not to tell him. Samantha hugged her.
Before he left, she had spent a couple of hours a day teaching Carson. After he left, that time went to sparring with Jason. It wouldn’t be a lot of help, but more strength would help protect him from the higher-level demons that associating with her was bringing him into contact with. Jason enjoyed the work, and so did she.
Eight days after Samantha had dispossessed Sam, Sam came downstairs with the laptop.
