by Amber Kizer
Just because we’re soul mates doesn’t mean we have to be inseparable. “Minerva will be there,” I said.
“Yes, the cat. What’s she going to do, hiss at a Nocti?”
“As opposed to what? What is your special power? Besides sometimes knowing what I’m feeling, or where I am, or what I’m doing?”
“And why do you think I can do that, Merry? To aggravate you? Or maybe there’s a bigger reason.”
“Do you know what the reason is?” I parried.
He stuttered.
I pointed at him in triumph. “See, you don’t know why either! Just because you can, doesn’t mean you know more about me than I do.”
“We’re getting nowhere. I’ll follow you. I’m not going to leave you alone to get killed.”
“Why do you assume something bad is going to happen?”
“Why do you assume it won’t? We have no evidence to suggest it won’t.”
“Tens, stop. Fine, come with me. But if it doesn’t work, I’m going alone and you can hide in the bushes or up your own ass.” I slammed into the bathroom.
“Nice!” He yelled through the door, and then I heard the front door crash. Custos howled.
He made me so mad. I scrubbed my face until it was raw and blazed irritation.
I knew I could count on him no matter what. And part of me rebelled. I was waiting for him to decide it wasn’t fun, that he’d be better off walking away and pretending to be normal. I was waiting for him to hand me a bus ticket and pass me off.
Because he could. He could walk away and I couldn’t.
It didn’t matter where I went, I couldn’t leave my Fenestra self behind. But he could stop being my Protector. If he got tired of the death, and the threats from Nocti, and the constant state of not knowing what was happening around us, he could get far away from me. And so what if he occasionally knew I was sad, or happy, or scared? He could ignore that. My mother had managed to ignore the corpses that gathered around me—feelings should be no problem for him. Way harder to ignore the dead bodies and the souls crashing into me. Why couldn’t I simply explain that to him? Why did I have to pick a fight and hope he got the point? I sank to the tiled floor. The adrenaline finally petered out and I saw myself with perspective.
When I exited the cottage, Tens sat in the truck; Custos lay in the bed of it, waiting. She wagged her tail at me, which gave me the strength to walk over and open the passenger door. I climbed in.
“Ready?” Tens asked. Tension smoldered between us.
I nodded. I opened my mouth but could force none of my truth out.
We drove the truck to the boat ramp and walked in, startling a covey of quail who ran like cartoons away from us until they could fly into a cover of brush. These woods were beginning to be very familiar to me; I felt like I could almost call out the names of the white-tailed deer we passed. The scent of sun on the plowed fields smelled like spring. Our pace was fast, since Tens’s legs were twice the length of mine and his anger carried him forward briskly.
I jogged to keep up, refusing to ask him to slow down. Ground squirrels chastised us for bothering them. Cardinals, grackles, and chickadees, still in their winter colors, occupied the canopy branches above us. Tiny yellow pansy-type flowers and purple crocus bloomed underfoot and several kinds of fern unfurled their tentacles for the sun as if they, too, were tired of winter.
As we neared Dunklebarger, my fingertips tingled and my legs felt like I had walked waist-deep into the ocean. A current of energy, and something else, rolled around me, threatening to overwhelm me and lift me spiritually out of my body. It required huge amounts of concentration to stay focused.
“Tens?” I whispered
I felt woogy. Odd. Not bad, but not pleasant.
“What? What’s going on?” Tens grabbed my hand. “You’re burning up.” In that moment, we both forgot our fight and focused on the here and now.
“I don’t know. I feel weird.” I felt like I was shouting at him, but the words came out barely audible even to my own ears.
“How weird? We’re coming up toward the house. Do you want to turn around? Go back?”
My arm wrapped around Tens’s waist. I felt the cold bump of steel at the small of his back. When did he add a firearm to his wardrobe?
I felt like I was swimming in a bathtub. Like the world wasn’t quite big enough.
“Turn around?” he asked. Concern and confusion had him reaching for me.
“No, keep going.” But I wasn’t sure.
He made encouraging sounds but seemed as if he was battling the instinct to pick me up and take me home. “We’re almost there. Someone’s up ahead. You see?”
My gaze was focused on the ground in front of me, but I lifted my head to see. I nodded. Not Bodie, and not a cat.
“Hello?” Tens tucked me against his side, as we approached a girl looking out onto the creek.
She startled and poised herself to leave. Tall, a good foot of sturdy height on me. Thick blond hair escaped a braid down her back. Bronzed eyes full of panic and sadness and something I couldn’t place. She stepped back, away from us. But not before I noted the bruising beneath her eyes and the welts on her forearms.
I didn’t need Rumi to tell me this was our Fenestra. I knew it, felt a kinship immediately that spoke to my soul in a way only Auntie did. It felt like a piece of me was back in my heart. Like I’d woken from a really great nap, full of energy and ready for anything.
“Please don’t go,” Tens said. “Are you—”
“Juliet?” I asked, shaking off the fog.
She paled, with fear widening her eyes.
I stretched my open hands out in front of me. I entreated, “We’re friends. We won’t hurt you.”
“We only want to talk.” Tens helped me sit on a log. We didn’t move any closer to her, afraid she’d spook.
She didn’t leave, but didn’t come closer either. “I—I—”
She seemed unable to pull words or form sentences. I wondered if she could talk, if it was fear that made her mute. It truly didn’t matter. There were things she needed to know. To hear. Quickly, before she ran.
This is my one chance. I swallowed down urgency, excitement. Tried to make my voice sound calm and patient. “My name is Meridian. This is Tens.” God, how the hell do you do this? Without sounding like a freak? Or a lunatic? Or a serial killer?
My ears popped like we were climbing a mountain or descending one too fast.
She stumbled a little further away, but stayed close enough that I could still talk at a normal volume. “Please, you don’t need to be afraid. We’ve been looking for you.”
“Who?” Again, she moved steps away from us. Prepared to flee.
“We’re staying at Helios, down in Carmel. We can help you. We were sent to help you. Are you okay?”
She laughed a bit maniacally but didn’t answer the question. She backed up further.
“We’re going to come here. We’ll wait here. When you’re ready to talk to us, we’ll be here. Or you can find us at Helios. We’ll help. We have answers.” The desperation I felt was evident in my voice. I don’t know what I had expected, but I thought she’d see me, know me, and we’d skip along like friends. Moronic and dumb.
She ran from us, her French braid bouncing between her shoulder blades—my mother called them angel wings and now I knew why.
“That went well.” Tens spoke the obvious.
“What the hell do we do now?” I asked, sinking against him.
How shall I tell my beau of all these goings-on?
Jocelyn Wynn
1788
CHAPTER 16
“Meridian, Tens!” Joi bolted out Helios’s kitchen door when we pulled up. She waved her hands and jogged over.
“What’s wrong?” I asked, racing out of the truck. Were Nocti here? Had something happened to Rumi? Had the store been robbed?
Tens, on edge like me, didn’t even take the keys out of the ignition before launching himself around the side
of the truck. “What happened?”
She stutter-stepped, puzzlement filling her face. She glanced from me to Tens and back again. “Nothing. Nothing. Who said anything about there being something wrong?”
“You were frantic,” I accused, sharper than I intended.
She shook her head. “Excited. Are you okay? Do you need to sit down? Let’s go inside.” Joi tried to carefully shepherd me toward the cottage, clucking all the while.
“No, I’m okay. Sorry. It seemed like you … like something was wrong.” I wasn’t okay, but I tried to make my face calm and healthy.
“What’s going on?” Tens stepped up behind me in support and comfort. My back fit snugly against his front.
“I remember hearing about your Father Anthony. He retired from the northern part of the state, where my cousin lives; her in-laws were in his parish. He was traveling in Africa. I don’t know if he’s still there or moved back to the States. I’ve put some calls out to find out where he is. I should know soon. That’s all. I remembered and I wanted you to know before I left. It seemed important to you.”
I sagged. I couldn’t help it. Good news, yes, but so good that it was worth my anxiety attack? Not so much. “Thank you. Thank you,” I repeated myself, hugging Joi, trying to push calm energy at her so she’d stop looking at me like I was going to faint or keel over right there.
“Get her inside and make her lie down. I’ll let you know when I hear more. I’ll walk slowly and smile.” Joi spoke to Tens as if I weren’t standing there. I didn’t blame her. She thought I was a desperately ill patient.
“Sure thing.” Tens led me back inside the cottage like I was fragile.
“Stop acting like I’m an invalid,” I snapped.
Tens dropped my arm immediately. “Sorry.”
I sighed. “No, I’m wrong. I’m sorry.” I’d crossed the yellow bitch line too many times this week.
“Forget it.” He pawed through the kitchen while I kicked my shoes off.
“What do we do now?”
He shook his head.
I crossed the room and laid my forehead on his back. I hugged his waist. “Look, I’m sorry about earlier. I hate fighting.”
He turned into my arms. “You had a point.”
“What?” I wasn’t going to assume that he saw the point of the fight the same way I did and start a whole new one. I kept my head down, not making eye contact on purpose.
“We don’t have to be codependent. Not all the time.”
Is that what I was talking about? “Sometimes, I just—”
He lifted my chin, forcing my eyes up. I drowned in his.
I shook my head, trying to find the words. “I want us to be exponentially stronger together because we’re solid individuals. I don’t want us to be just the sum of our parts.”
He nodded. “I only want you to be the best you. How cheesy is that?”
“It’s not. I am, with you. I love you. You’re the first person in my life to see me and love me unconditionally, but it scares me too.”
“Scares you?” he questioned.
“Terrifies me.” I nodded, desperate to make him understand.
“Oh.” He didn’t seem to know how to react to that and pulled away.
I had to get us back on track. “Tens, can I sense you, too? Does it work both ways?”
“I don’t know.” He shrugged.
“Well, how do you do it? I want to try it.” I followed him and sat next to him on the couch.
“It’s not like it’s a switch I throw, or a trick or anything.” He huffed and leaned back against the couch, resting his hands over his face.
“Okay, but do you feel me all the time?”
“I’ve told you, I can’t read your mind.”
“I know you’ve said it’s the emotions, or big stuff like danger, but is it like the stock market scrolly sign on the news? As things change you get updates? An emotional RSS feed?”
“What is that?”
I sometimes forgot that Tens didn’t live in the same popular culture world as most people. “Never mind, techie. Like I know when you’re angry, or worried, or happy and relaxed. Is it like that?”
“Yeah, but how do you know?”
“Well, when you’re angry your decibel level goes up—you get very loud and stop speaking in complete sentences, or your brow furrows between your eyes and gets all folded like the Rockies.”
He shook his head in disagreement. “That’s body language. You’ve learned mine; you’ve picked up on cues like anyone else. How did you know when Sammy was upset?”
“His lip quivered and he started crying.”
“Right. That’s not psychic.”
“Good point.” Disappointed, I knew he was right.
“I cue off your body and your face just like you do with mine. God, Merry, if I knew how I did the psychic thing, maybe I could do it better.”
“What do you mean?”
“Am I supposed to know how to keep you from feeling bad about stuff? I’m your Protector, right? Am I supposed to protect you from everything, or only some things?”
“I hadn’t thought about it that way. I can’t imagine your job is to shield me from everything—that would be very unbalanced.”
“Okay, then, what good am I really?”
“What are you talking about? Tens, do you think I could do this without you? I don’t want to do this without you.” I reached out and grabbed his knee. “I am incapable of holding it together without knowing you’re there to pick up my pieces. I want to be that for you, too. I just don’t know how to do it if I’m always leaning on you, you know?”
He nodded.
“When did you start feeling me?”
“I think I’ve always felt you. But I didn’t know it. Not until much later.”
“When?” I prodded.
“Early on I called you my imaginary friend. But it was more than that. I knew what you were thinking and doing, but only at certain times,” he said.
“What’s the first thing you remember?”
“The first time I thought I was crazy?” he asked.
Puzzled, I checked his eyes to see if he was joking. No, very serious face. “Crazy?”
“It’s not normal to hear conversations other people have or see things through their eyes. Do you remember your sixth birthday party? I was nine.”
I barely remembered. I couldn’t imagine that I wanted to remember. “That was the last time Mom threw a party for me.”
“Do you remember why?”
“No.” I blanked.
“You went ice-skating.” He cued my memory.
“In Portland?”
“It was an inside rink.”
I nodded, details popping up into my mind’s eye.
“There were seven little girls who came with their mommies. You overheard a couple of the moms talking about what a weird kid you were and that they’d only let their daughters come if they were allowed too. You hid under the table.”
“I wouldn’t come out.” I remembered it like it had happened to someone else.
“Right.”
“I had a headache. A really bad headache.”
“And?”
“And one of the little girls, Becky, got in the way of a big kid who was going really fast and showing off.”
“And?”
“And she got pushed out of the way and they fell, twisted together, and Becky hit her head really hard.”
“So hard the ice turned red with the blood.”
I nodded, seeing it like I was right there. “And she lay motionless. I threw up and stayed under the table and saw people’s feet rushing around. An ambulance crew arrived.”
“And all those mommies rushed to get their kids out of there. Your mom left you under the table in all the chaos, and when it was over, she came to find you. Drove you home and didn’t talk to you for a week.”
I rubbed my eyes. My mother could have reassured me. For God’s sake, she knew my ancestry. She pretended
I was a mistake that could be fixed by ignoring it.
“Do you remember what happened to Becky?” Tens traced circles on my back.
“No.”
“The fall caused a traumatic brain injury. She broke her neck, too.”
“Died.”
“Not then, not that I know of.”
“She never came back to school.”
“You changed schools.”
“I did?”
“Your mom decided you needed to start fresh.”
“So you felt all this?”
“Saw it happening like I was there. Felt it like I was you. Wanted to fix it. I told my mom all about it. Details. She called my grandfather. And the next thing I knew I was on a plane to Seattle.”
“She sent you away?”
“She thought I was turning into a girl or becoming schizophrenic or something she couldn’t handle, I think.”
“What did she say?” I asked, afraid of his answer.
“That she’d had enough of trying to get me to live in this world and if I wanted to be a crazy kid, then I could go live with crazy people.”
“Her parents?” My heart broke for the little boy.
“Hmm-mmm.” He closed his eyes.
“Seriously? She thought her own parents were insane, so she sent you to them?”
“I guess I’d been talking about you since your birth, and asking about girl toys and wanting to see places and people that she had to look up on the Internet. I think my wanting to go ice-skating so I could save the girl with the broken neck terrified her.”
“But send you away?”
“Sound familiar?”
“You were nine.”
“And that makes it worse?”
“Than me?” I huffed out a breath. “Yes, nine is different than sixteen. Plus, I went directly to Auntie, right?”
I dreamed last night that you’ll be tall like your daddy and strong. I wish he were here to help us.
—R.
CHAPTER 17
Juliet
“Juliet? What’s wrong?” Nicole tried to grab me when I ran past her toward my space under the stairs. It didn’t matter if there were repercussions; I had to find a dark, quiet place to breathe.
