Poison

by Dejana Vuletic

  “So, was that just a name you made up?” I asked curiously. “Darius?”

  He shook his head, and the smile left his face. “Darius is my middle name, was my real father’s name. I say ‘was’ because he was taken from me, along with my mother, when I was a child.”

  I felt the tears coming already, and all he’d said was that he’d lost both of his parents. God, I was a wimp.

  “Oh, I’m sorry,” I said, but he shook his head again, smiling a little.

  “They knew who I was from the beginning. That I was a Keeper and needed to live so I could find the rest of you. My father died protecting my mother and me, and she died while I ran. They always protected me, and told me that one day I would have someone of my own to protect. They gave their lives to protect me, and I intend to risk just as much—if not more—for you.” He grasped my hand tightly in his and let his thumbs massage the skin of my palm.

  “Her name was Christiana,” he said softly. “My mother had always told me that I would find someone, and I never realized until now that she was right.”

  I smiled at him, feeling the blood rush to my cheeks in pride.

  “They must have been beautiful, wonderful people, to have raised a son so amazing,” I said happily, and to my relief, he smiled.

  “Yes, they were.” He paused. “They lost their lives to her. To the same one we’re fighting now.”

  “Who’s she?” I asked sharply. His head turned increasingly fast to look at me in surprise.

  “I’m sorry,” he apologized. “But, honestly, I have no idea who she really is. I’ve seen her silhouette, but nothing more. She hides in the shadows, and uses them as her weapon against us. None of us know her true identity.”

  I nodded stiffly. “Okay. As long as I know that you aren’t keeping things from me . . .”

  “I have no reason to,” he argued softly. “I trust you. I just don’t know."

  I nodded again, but more relaxed this time. “I know. I trust you, too.” I smiled and hugged him.

  “Good,” he replied, and I felt his lips touch my hair.

  “So now what?” I asked, pulling away from him.

  He laughed. “Well, what do you feel like doing? Are you hungry?”

  “No,” I lied, and at that instant my stomach decided to be obnoxious and gurgle angrily.

  Yet another chuckle, “We’ll eat, then.”

  “Fine,” I said in mock stubbornness, and followed him down the stairs, watching as the rays of sunlight seemed to follow me where I went.

  The rest of the day was slow and boring, actually. Being with Chris was fun, but being under house arrest until school was out kind of put a damper on things. When it finally hit 2:30, Chris looked at his phone and sighed.

  “What’s the matter?” I asked.

  “I’ve got to go run band practice,” he said. “Technically it was an excused absence, so I have to go,” he added before I could interrupt him.

  I wavered with indecision and looked at him anxiously. “Please don’t go.”

  “Why not?” he argued softly.

  “There was a bomb in that building, Chris. It was obviously intended for us, and I don’t feel comfortable with you going there to—”

  “I’m not in as much danger as you, Dessa,” he replied as he put his arms on my shoulders. “You need to stay here where I know you’ll be safe. I have to show up and play the good guy and show everyone that everything’s okay. If I don’t do that, it’ll look fishy and I’ll get the wrong kind of people sniffing out our trail.”

  I groaned. “I hate your logic. Just know that if anything happens to you, I told you not to go.”

  He chuckled as he got into the car and put the key in the ignition. “Of course. Everything’s always my fault.”

  “Just go then,” I said determinedly. “I’ll be okay here for a few hours on my own. If I can’t protect myself, then I’ll feel like a complete pussy.”

  “If I need you, I’ll call,” I yelled as he started to drive away.

  He nodded and sped off leaving me alone in the largest house I’d ever been in. I turned around after I shut the door and just stared at the interior like an idiot. After a few minutes of staring, I got bored and decided to go watch TV. Full House was on, so I was quite content.

  At least until I wasn’t watching Full House or sitting on Chris’ beautiful couch anymore.

  About an hour after Chris left, I blinked my eyes and I suddenly wasn’t in Chris’ living room. I was in a strange dark space outlined with stone walls. The north wall was decorated with carvings that depicted some sort of ritual; the south wall contained a small wooden door and a proportionate window right beside it, letting in a little bit of light to illuminate the carvings. Against the west wall there was a cloaked individual standing with a sword hanging from a scabbard at the figure’s waist. The blade of the sword was clean, a beautifully sharp silver, but the edges of the blade quivered slightly as though they were alive.

  I was standing against the east wall, completely paralyzed against my own will as I watched the cloaked figure walk toward the north wall, a lantern in hand. The figure looked like a man, mainly because of his strong build and muscular shoulders.

  He walked purposefully, taking his time until he approached the carvings.

  I wanted to ask who he was, but my unspoken question was answered when the hood came down revealing Skylar’s face.

  His eyes were glowing amazingly bright in the darkness of the room—I could see their shine as it reflected off the walls—and his blond hair was spiked again, pointing every which way.

  Skylar? Why? What was he doing here—wherever “here” actually was? Why was he here alone?

  “You know what to do.”

  I felt my heart skip a beat at the sound of the deep voice. It came from the shadows, a shapeless being that could morph in and out of the darkness and control it . . .

  “Memorize the instructions,” the voice told him. Skylar obeyed with a nod of his head. His hand touched the wall upon which the pictures were carved, and his eyes suddenly caught on fire.

  I’m dead serious. They actually burst into flames.

  He didn’t scream, but his hand traced over the designs of the ancient script written on the stone wall and the fire travelled from his fingertips to his eyes. Skylar’s face was filled with silent pain, but he obeyed the voice as it spoke to him, and traced his fingers over the symbols, burning them into his memory.

  That’s what he was doing! He was literally burning them into his memory . . .

  I really needed therapy.

  I mentally shook myself and went back to silently watching Skylar. He closed his eyes and took his hand away from the wall. When he opened his eyes they were perfectly normal, the whites of his eyes healthy, the irises slightly shining.

  “Good,” the voice replied. “Now, time to carry it out.”

  I felt my eyes involuntarily close, drowning me in an uncomfortable blackness. When I opened my eyes again, I was still sitting on Chris’ couch and the Full House marathon was still going.

  I had so many questions, and there were no answers to any of them.

  What kind of ritual was that? What kind of instructions were they? It was obviously extremely important or my clairvoyance wouldn’t have noticed it happening. Why was Skylar the one obtaining the instructions? Who had that voice belonged to?

  So many questions.

  I got up and restlessly paced over to the kitchen. The clock on the wall above the first of the five stoves in the dang place said it was pretty close to 4:00, so I had another half hour to kill until Chris got home.

  I finally decided to try to calm down in the shower, so I tried and failed to navigate to a bathroom other than the one in Chris’ room. I failed miserably at that, so I just gave up and went into his bathroom. He had a sea blue robe laid across his bed purposefully—I assumed he had known I would do this.

  I grabbed the robe with a sigh and walked into the amazingly huge bathroom. Th
e thing was bigger than my entire first floor. There was a Jacuzzi—which I would save for a better time when Chris was actually here—and a humongous shower. I stepped into it and let the automatic jets massage my muscles.

  It felt so good to just stand there and let the warm water wash away the visions and the memories. It felt otherworldly to just let the water carry me away to a place of tranquility. I stood in that shower for at least fifteen minutes, completely motionless as the jets of warm water glided down my back and legs.

  I only noticed how long I’d been standing in there when the hot water suddenly went cold.

  “Oh, crap,” I whispered in surprise. I darted out of the shower and grabbed the closest blue towel I could find and dried my body off. I threw on Chris’ robe and took another towel and wrapped up my flowing brown hair.

  “Crap, crap, crap,” I kept chanting to myself as I walked out of the bathroom, only to see Chris just walking into his bedroom through the huge double oak doors.

  “Well, hello there,” he said with a brilliant smile. “I didn’t expect to catch you up here.”

  “Oh, didn’t you?” I asked haughtily. “Then why was your robe lying on your bed?”

  He smiled. “Can’t I leave my own stuff lying around?”

  I shook my head jokingly. “Nope. Nope, nope, nope!”

  “It does look good on you, though,” he said absently as he threw the mace carelessly into a corner.

  “Ha, you’re funny,” I said as I took the towel out of my hair, letting the wet locks fall against my face and back.

  “No, seriously,” he said as he took off his t-shirt and went to search for a clean one. “You look really nice in blue.”

  I smiled and felt my cheeks flush red. “Well, thanks,” I said stupidly.

  “Anytime,” he replied. “So what else did you do while I was gone?” he asked.

  His question brought back the reality of the past few hours and with it the overbearing anxiety. I needed to tell him. He needed to know . . .

  “I watched Full House,” I told him uneasy, avoiding the truth temporarily.

  “That’s all?” he asked in a slightly disappointed tone. His tone was suggesting that he knew I was hiding something.

  “Well, I had another clairvoyant vision, too,” I confessed. The smile left his face instantly and he was beside me, his arms around me.

  “What happened? Is everything okay?”

  “I think?” The uncertainty in my voice made those two words into a question, a fact that made the nervousness grow.

  “You think? Dessa, sit down,” Chris commanded softly. I obeyed instantaneously, sitting right on the floor where I was. Chris sat down beside me after putting on his new shirt and took his hands and put them in my lap. I clutched his hands and traced the lines on his palms while I spoke to him.

  I told him about what I’d seen; starting with what the room looked like, putting emphasis on the carvings and the location of the door and window. I told him who the cloaked figure was, and the sword he’d been holding. I recalled what the voice had said and told Chris how Skylar had burned the calligraphy into his mind.

  I finished and took several deep breaths, waiting for Chris to speak. He was silent for at least five minutes, his eyes gazing intently into mine as he processed everything I’d just told him.

  “Any thoughts?” I asked curiously after about ten minutes of our silent staring contest.

  “Yeah,” he said, leaning back a little. “Some pretty jumbled and confused ones, but thoughts nonetheless.”

  “Please share,” I said kindly. He smiled briefly.

  “Well, first off, I recognize some of those carvings. I remember seeing those before. I can’t explain where . . . because I don’t remember that room at all, but the carvings look so familiar to me.” He paused and put his head in his hands in frustration. “Secondly, there’s the matter of that sword again. You saw it before. Haikai is the trademark symbol of the Keeper of Fire, and the fact that Skylar’s holding him before any of us have ours has me just a little bit on edge.

  “Thirdly, there’s that voice again. You heard it in the restaurant when Skylar was there alone. And now you hear it again in this room with the ritual printed on the wall. That’s not just a coincidence.” He was pacing now in front of me as I sat stock-still on the floor, my eyes following his every move sharply.

  “Where’s Akarusa?” I asked suddenly. “Take me to her.”

  He looked down at me and said nothing for a few moments. Then he resolutely nodded his head and said, “Follow me.”

  Chris led me down into the basement through a marble spiral staircase. It wound down into the earth, and we descended at least fifty feet before the staircase ended. It was dark in the tunnels, so I held out my finger, wishing desperately that my new affinity for light would help us out.

  Thankfully, it did. A little orb of light materialized at my fingertip and lit up the entire tunnel system, igniting the shadows and forcing them away. Chris smiled at me, and I smiled back in amazement.

  I continued following Chris through the tunnels until we reached a large set of double doors. They were cast out of iron and very, very huge.

  “This is where they rest,” he said, touching the door with the palm of his hand. The door opened automatically in response to his touch, and we entered the large, torch-lit room.

  It was beautiful. The floors were made of marble, reflecting five colors of light onto the ceiling in separate parts of the room. To my left were two display cases made of glass, one of which was empty. The empty one housed a plaque of gold, upon which was carved the word “Haikai.” There was a stand for the sword, but the sword itself was nowhere to be found.

  The walls and ceiling around this case were tinted a vicious scarlet, and I could have sworn the walls were pulsing with heat. I curiously examined the case, looking for fingerprints or something that would confirm that Skylar had been here.

  There were no prints; there was no proof whatsoever that anyone had been in here save the empty case. Chris’ eyes were focused on the display case just to the right of me. The floor around this case, as well as the walls and ceiling, were dyed a beautifully hypnotizing cerulean. Inside the case – glowing majestically the moment Chris brought his hand close to the glass – was a beautiful sword.

  The hilt of the sword was flawless silver, gleaming brightly. In the middle of the hilt was a gorgeous sapphire, and I could have sworn I heard the roaring of the sea coming from within that case . . .

  The blade of the sword was quivering like waves upon the surface of the sea, and below the weapon on the door of the display case there was a golden plaque upon which the word “Koorimizu” was inscribed.

  “Koorimizu?” I asked as I leaned in closer to the case. “That’s cool,” I said lamely, suddenly attracted to the other two display cases on the other end of the room, serving as some sort of reflection of the first two. The one opposite Skylar’s was emitting a beautiful earthen glow, a strong, sturdy auburn light. Inside the case there were two curved knives, each one surrounded by a weird-looking orb of brown light. I had no idea what that was all about, but I read the plaque and kind of guessed at it. The plaque, golden like the others, said, “Kenchi.”

  I moved to the next display case, which I kind of hypothetically figured out was Pa’s. Her case radiated green light, dying the marble floors the color of the forest’s many trees. Inside the case was a two-sided sword with a silver hilt, one large emerald gilded into it. Both sides of the hilt housed blades, both of the same size, and the glass of the case was shaking moderately, as though a wind was forcing itself against the case.

  The golden plaque read, “Soyokaze.”

  I gazed admirably at Pa’s sword, knowing that she truly would appreciate owning it.

  There was one more case.

  In the middle of the room, on a pedestal of gold and silver, was the final display case. I walked up to it in a kind of daze, not really completely aware of what I was doing until I w
as standing opposite the beautiful case. Upon the plaque, framed in gold but carved in silver, was the inscription “Akarusa.”

  Inside the case, floating on its own was the most beautiful sword I had ever seen. The hilt of the sword was silver just like Chris’ sword, shining flawlessly in the light it radiated around the room. The blade of the sword was long and wide, the shine of it almost blinding. Around the hilt was a golden ribbon, twirling itself around and around the hilt very loosely. It formed a kind of hand-guard, a gravitational cloud that ensured my hand wouldn’t lose its hold on the sword.

  I gazed at the beautiful sword in awe, completely shocked by the fact that this gorgeous weapon belonged to me. Chris touched his hands to my shoulders and smiled.

  “Beautiful, isn’t she?” he asked. “The sword is a reflection of its master. The Keeper of Light is just as beautiful, if not more so, than the sword she wields to protect those she loves.” Chris was smiling genuinely at me, and I felt my heart swell with pride as I looked upon that sword.

  “How do you know when you’re ready to grasp it?” I asked.

  “Whenever you grasp it, you’re ready to grasp it,” he answered. “It’s the Keeper’s decision, and no one else’s.”

  I nodded, looking at my sword. “I’m not ready until the rest of you are.”

  Chris smiled. “So admirable, just like her,” he said, gesturing toward the sword. “Now I see where she gets it from.”

  I chuckled. “You’re a real charmer, you know?”

  “So he tells me,” Chris said ridiculously, pointing to the sword in his case.

  I put my head against his shoulder as we walked out of the room, our little orb of light leading the way back into the house. We arrived back in Chris’ kitchen to find Ricky and Pa studiously waiting for us.

  “Oh ho, and what were you two doing down there?” Ricky asked jokingly as he punched Chris playfully on the shoulder and proceeded to give me a noogie before I could escape to Pa’s sisterly arms.

  “I think the more appropriate question is ‘what were you two doing up here?’” I retorted, and I saw Ricky and Pa blush instantly, which made me feel smug. “Chris and I were checking out our swords. It’s really something else.”