I chuckled. “Yes, I saw you. I saw Skylar and Ricky, too,” I added. At Skylar’s name, her face turned sour, but then the moment I said my brother’s name, she smiled again. But I couldn’t tell if these were her reactions . . . they were so instantaneous that my eyes couldn’t connect them.
She leaned back in her chair, twisting her petite body to face mine.
“Skylar isn’t helping much,” she commented sourly.
“Sounds like somebody’s jealous,” I muttered, looking at her narrowing eyes. She raised her eyebrows in suspicion and leaned slightly forward. “Speaking of Mr. Lamo,” I said, trying to divert her attention, “How’s he been?”
“He’s fine, I suppose,” she said bluntly, not really interested in talking about him. “What do you mean by jealous?” she asked suddenly. Crap. Even I couldn’t distract her when she wanted to know something . . .
I laughed nervously. “I just mean he doesn’t like Ricky being around,” I answered. That was a good reply, right? In my book, I told her the truth without revealing too much. “Ricky tells me about how he sulks . . .” I trailed off when she bit her lip. “What’s wrong, Pa?”
She shook her head. “It’s nothing.”
“Awe, Pa, you can tell me anything. I’ll keep it a secret if you want. I don’t care. Just don’t tell me that nothing is wrong when it’s blatantly obvious that you are not okay.”
She bit her lip again. “Dessa, I don’t know what’s wrong with me anymore. . .” she trailed off and she buried her face in her hands, breaking into sobs.
“Pa, stop it,” I pleaded. “Come on, Pa, don’t cry. It’ll be okay. Come on now,” I continued cooing to her, rubbing her back as she cried. She stopped after about ten minutes and looked up at me with red, tear-filled eyes.
“Dessa, I love him,” she said in a broken voice, her right hand on top of mine. The tiny gold band rested on her ring finger gleaming in the sun. “And this . . . this . . . stupid ring . . . won’t let me have him!” She touched the ring with the tip of her finger and pulled away as though she had been burned—seared by the binding contract that tied her to Skylar—and her eyes closed in pain.
“Do you love Skylar?” I asked cautiously, my eyes narrowing. She stared back at me for a moment, her eyes wide.
“I suppose so,” she answered stupidly.
“You suppose . . .” I repeated with emphasis. She shrunk back at my criticism, and wrapped her arms around her knees on the booth bench.
“I’m engaged to him. Of course I love him,” she replied. “But I’m . . . in love . . . with Rick . . . and I can’t . . . I can’t . . .”
“Shh,” I murmured, patting her back again. “Now, Pa, tell me,” I pleaded gently, “Does Skylar love you?”
She opened her eyes. She was alert almost instantly, like my question had set off a spark within her soul, setting her free spirit into the wild wind again.
“Has he ever told you? Does he treat you the same as my brother treats you?”
She thought for a moment and shook her head slowly. “He’s told me he loves me,” she said, “But his actions don’t really prove that at all. I do everything I can to make him happy, but nothing seems to be enough for him. He always yells at me. He tells me I’m not worthy . . . That I’m not thankful enough for him . . .”
I scoffed. “That’s stupid, Pa. Don’t even bother with him. I say you talk to him about this. I’ll come with you if you need me,” I offered.
“Thanks,” she said with a half-hearted smile. “We’re going out this week; Tuesday, I think. I’m officially inviting you along.”
I smiled. “I’ll look forward to it, then,” I promised her, taking her hand in mine. “And don’t worry about this whole mess,” I added. “It’ll take care of itself. Just hang in there, okay, Pa?”
She nodded and stood up. “I guess I’ll let you get back to work,” she said resolutely. “How long are you staying today?”
“I actually think we’ll be let out early,” I said, “since tomorrow is a holiday. So about an hour or so, I think.”
“That’s good,” she said happily, her eyes bright and cheery. “I’m thinking of stopping by later,” she added.
“Tonight, you mean?” I asked suddenly, my heart filling with hope.
“Yes, if I can,” she said, rolling down her sleeves as she put on her light jacket. “Rick called earlier and said he’d love to have me over.”
He’d love to . . . No doubt about that one . . .
“As would I,” I replied, trying to hide my expectancy. “I won’t be back until late, though. I’m going over a friend’s to do homework.”
“He mentioned that, too,” she said, putting her hand on the door. “Christopher, am I right?”
“Ha . . .” I choked out with sarcasm. “Yeah, that’s him.”
“Well, you two have fun,” she said as she opened the door. The sun became momentarily covered by the clouds passing by and Pa blinked her eyes.
She turned away and walked to her car while I stared after her, not sure if what I had just seen was simply my imagination going insane, or just the fact that I really did need sleep.
When the sun had disappeared, leaving the shadows to lie upon Pa’s face, the emeralds within her eyes had begun to glow, lighting the space around her with an iridescent olive shine . . .
I turned around in a daze and walked back to the counter, my golden eyes transfixed on the retreating silhouette of my best friend as the green glow faded away to nothing.
Athanasia
Antonio ended up letting me leave early; he had decided to close up and get home to his family before it got too late. I worried about Chris and how he would show up in an hour not knowing where I was, but of course, my doubts were pointless.
He was already parked in the parking lot, drinking something hot judging from the steam permeating his car. He looked up when I approached him, not in the least surprised at my getting out early.
“Have fun today?” he asked conversationally as I opened his passenger door. I nodded, but said nothing. He put the cup of steaming liquid onto the dashboard for a moment and turned the key in the ignition. The car started quite smoothly to life and he took another sip of his drink before he began to drive away.
“I don’t live too far from here,” he added, his penetrating blue eyes searching my face, while—I criticized in my head—they should have been searching the road. “About ten minutes at the most, I’d say.”
I nodded again, my mind still stuck on what had just happened.
“Is something wrong?” he asked suddenly, turning his body to face mine. “Has something happened?”
“No,” I said, answering only the first question. “Nothing happened that hasn’t before.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” he asked, his eyes gazing at me again. The sapphires deep within them seemed to begin glowing, filling the car with a blue flame of calmness and composure.
“The way your eyes do that . . .” I trailed off.
“Your eyes do the same thing, remember?” he retorted quizzically. “I thought I told you about this. . . .” he trailed off just as I had, spinning the steering wheel with just one finger on his left hand.
“No, I think you forgot to mention the details,” I replied caustically. “What the hell is going on here? Why do our eyes glow when we’re near each other? What’s so special about you and me? And on that same line, why’re my best friend’s eyes now glowing, too?”
He stared at me, realizing—I imagined—that he could no longer keep secrets from me.
“I have some explaining to do, don’t I?” he asked, mostly to himself.
“I’d say so,” I replied, but smiled. “I just want to know what the deal is, that’s all. I think I can handle anything you’ve got.”
“You’ll eat those words,” he whispered, staring at the road.
“Sure I will,” I said, humoring him. He cracked a smile that disappeared a split second later and continued driving flawless
ly down the street.
“We’re almost to my place,” he said after a few moments of silence. “Then I’ll explain all of this to you. I promise.”
I nodded, but then shook my head right after. “But, our homework . . .” I interjected. He laughed at me, waving his hand in the air.
“Dessa, please,” he argued. “Homework is the very least of your worries right now. Don’t worry about that. I can take care of your homework—and mine—in less time than it takes you to blink twice.”
I blinked twice, staring at him. “Is it done yet?” I asked sarcastically.
He chuckled, glancing at me through his black hair. “Why don’t you open that calculus notebook and see for yourself?” he taunted, pulling into a driveway.
I obeyed him after a moment of contemplation and opened up my tattered, dilapidated calculus notebook.
I opened it to the page I had written the homework assignment on, and there, beneath the heading, was my completed homework. It was written in my handwriting, the bottom lobes of my “8’s” slightly bigger than the tops, the “5’s” like “S’s”.
“How . . .?” I asked, whipping my head around to look at him, but I didn’t finish my question. His eyes were glowing again in the dark shadows of the car’s interior. He looked at me questioningly, confused by my ineptitude.
“That doesn’t matter, Dessa,” he said, opening the car door. He came to open mine for me and helped me out of the car. I left all my things inside it; I wouldn’t need them anyway, since Chris had so graciously messed with my mind and completed my homework for me.
“Okay . . .” I trailed off as I got out of the car. The house I saw before me couldn’t have been real. There was no way on earth or heaven that this house was real.
The lawn was leafless, the grass still green and bursting with foliage and life. A beautiful, marble fountain was in the middle of the lawn, sporting a beautiful sculpture of five people standing together.
The most prominent figure on the fountain was a young woman, her hands cupped at her chest as though she cradled a precious babe in her arms. Her mouth was slightly opened, her eyes closed, the perfectly sculpted hair styled as though it blew in the wind. Upon her forehead a symbol—a golden, unicursal hexagram surrounded by a circle—stood out from the rest of her, almost like it was glowing.
At her side, with a hand outstretched yearning to grasp her, was the second figure. He had hair that was spiked in the front and his eyes were open, staring toward his attacker as he tried to protect the woman behind him. Upon his forehead was the same symbol dyed a luscious sapphire.
Standing with her back to the first woman was another female, petite and small of stature. Her hair was luscious and flowing, her eyes closed. She was smiling slightly, her hands lifted into the air. Her clothing flew about her as though a terrifying wind disturbed them. She, too, possessed a hexagram upon her forehead, and this outline was glowing emerald.
At her side, faithfully defending both women was a young man with a mop of hair upon his head, which tried to hide the symbol upon it: a hexagram of earthen brown. He held a curved short-bladed saber in his one hand, his other barely touching the smaller woman’s waist.
The final figure, which had short—yet still somehow spiky—hair, was kneeling at the slighter woman’s side, his hands clutching at her ankles. She stood firmly, and the man at her feet looked full of sorrow and anguish. The symbol upon his head was gorgeous scarlet, and his brooding eyes stared at the petite woman with a look of pain.
The thing that amazed me was the striking resemblance between the people in this statue . . . and the people I knew.
The central woman, her arms cradling some invisible light of truth . . . her jawbone shaped just like mine, her eyes just like mine, her posture, her figure, her hair . . . just like mine . . .
The man reaching out his hand toward her, with his spiky hair and blue symbol upon his forehead . . .
The petite woman with her back pressed against the first, the symbol glowing green . . .
The man at her side, with the mess of hair and the brown star shining on him . . .
The final man, his eyes full of betrayal and pain as he clung to the ankles of the beautiful woman who clutched the hand of another . . .
It took me a moment to realize I had stopped walking. Chris was beside me, his arm around my shoulder.
“What is this?” I asked, my eyes staring at the beautiful, painful scene.
“This is Athanasia,” he said, slipping his hand to grasp mine. “This fountain has been under the protection of my family for generations.”
“What’s so special about it?” I asked curiously as I took my hand out of his.
“This fountain,” he said, sitting upon its edge. He dipped his fingers into the water and touched them to a dying flower near his feet. The moment the water touched the withered petals of the blossom, the flower began to grow again, its buds growing rapidly and coming back to life. “This fountain,” he said again, “has the power that most humans strive to take control over. The power to give life and the power to take life away.
“This fountain was constructed thousands of years ago, when the world’s ancient civilizations were flourishing in the Old World. Legend tells that the five pictured on this fountain had instructed their people to build this for them. The base was completed and the fountain’s stream flowed without ceasing. Problems arose in the kingdom, darkness threatened to take over and extinguish the peace that reigned over the world. So the five stood upon the base of the fountain and fought against darkness. The relentless assault bore down on them endlessly, and eventually, the Keeper of Light, or the central woman on the fountain, sealed their souls into the very stones that sit here before us. Their souls remain trapped inside the stone, waiting for their bodies to reunite with them. So far, only one of the Keepers has been reunited with his soul.”
He stood up and faced me, his eyes glowing gorgeous azure in the light.
“You know who that person is, don’t you?” he asked as he took my hands. I looked at him for a moment before I could answer him.
“It’s . . . you,” I said. “You’re one of the Keepers?” I asked, clutching his hand. He touched the stone body of his former self, and the symbol upon the statue’s forehead was suddenly upon his, shimmering sapphire like a bleeding wound.
He nodded his head.
“I’m the Keeper of Water,” he answered. “I made it my mission to recover my soul as soon as possible, and I’ve succeeded.”
“But then . . . why have you brought me here?”
He shook his head. “You know these answers. Look into your soul, Dessa, and search for the answer there.”
It couldn’t be . . . It wasn’t possible . . .
“The only problem is,” he began, putting his hands back into mine, “That we cannot awaken the Keeper of Light until the other four have been awakened.”
“Who are the other four?” I asked, but I already seemed to know the answer.
The faces of the sculptures told me my answer. Chris was the one defending the central woman . . .
The girl with her back to the Keeper of the Light looked just like Pa. . . .
And Ricky stood beside her, clutching her waist. So the fourth was Skylar, then, kneeling at Pa’s feet . . .
But who was the fifth?
Who was the Keeper of Light?
It couldn’t be . . . me . . .
“How do we awaken them?” I asked.
“The only way to awaken them,” he answered, “is to bring them here to this fountain. Athanasia works wonders on those who created her.”
“So . . . we need to get Ricky, Skylar, and Pa here? That’s all?”
“Basically,” he answered. “But I have a feeling we’re running out of time.”
“What do you mean?” I asked as he sat down on the beautiful grass.
“You’ll find out,” he answered grimly. “In the meantime, look out for yourself, okay? There’s a greater power at work
here than I realized, and without your soul inside you, you’re easy prey to the enemies that want you dead.”
I swallowed. “Okay . . . I’ll . . . I’ll try to be careful.” I started shaking, but he stood up and wrapped his arms around me, clutching my body to his chest.
“Don’t worry about a thing, Dessa,” he said soothingly. “I’ll protect you. I have since the beginning of time, and I won’t stop now when you need me most.”
I rested my head against his strong shoulder and sighed as I felt his lips touch my hair. “Thank you,” I murmured.
“Anytime,” he whispered, and I could almost feel him smiling as he held me.
We stood there holding each other for what seemed like forever. I was beginning to drift out of consciousness as I heard the comforting sound of his beating heart and his breathing in my ears. He finally stirred beneath me after what seemed like hours.
He pushed me gently away, letting his hands rest upon my shoulders.
“Come inside,” he commanded softly. “You’ll get sick standing out here.”
I scoffed, but then shivered, shrinking deeper into his arms. He took me up in his arms and cradled me like a small child, tucking my head into his shoulder. My eyes fought to stay open, but they continued to close over and over again, taking away the light with disturbing flashes of darkness.
The only sign that alerted me to the fact that we were inside was the sudden brightness behind my closed eyelids and a rush of warm air that tried to send me deeper into slumber.
I felt something soft beneath my body and opened my eyes to find myself on a beautiful maroon felt couch. A quilt floated down gently to caress my skin and I felt a sudden sinking as Chris sat down at my side.
“I’m a terrible host, aren’t I?” he asked with concern. “I left you outside in the cold and didn’t even offer to let you in.”
“Don’t be ridiculous,” I argued, suddenly bursting with energy. I sat up in a rush and turned to face him. He raised his eyebrows in surprise at my sudden motion and chuckled.
“Talk about a power nap,” he muttered, shifting so I could sit up.
Poison Page 5
