Wildcat Fireflies

by Amber Kizer

  Tens grunted.

  “Haven’t we done this before?” I tried to smile.

  He stopped and gently set me on my feet. “You’re heavier now than you were then.”

  I couldn’t be offended by the truth. Back at Auntie’s I was sticks and sickly, painful flesh. Real sexy.

  “What happened?” Tens leaned against a tree trunk. The lights of Dunklebarger were still visible through the bare branches of the trees.

  “Do you remember when Auntie talked about ghosts? Spirits that didn’t cross over for whatever reason?”

  “Like Charles?”

  Auntie’s husband, Charles, waited and watched and kept up his protective vigil until the end. Of course, that meant he scared the crap out of me several times before I knew what was going on. “Yes and no.” I sank to the ground and let the cold damp soak up the back of my legs. I felt like I’d gone ten rounds with a T. rex.

  “There are old people dying in there, right?”

  I nodded, the three-quarter moon beckoning me with its blue cool to believe in magic and in fairies. That wasn’t quite right, though. This hadn’t felt like older energy, not all of it.

  “What don’t I understand?” Tens asked.

  “It wasn’t old energy in there. Not elderly souls, but kids, teens too.”

  Mini and Bodie came running toward us.

  “Wait!” Bodie called in a whisper-yell.

  I waved to acknowledge him. Tens and I ducked further into the shadows in case his voice carried back to the house.

  Mini yowled. Custos barked in response and greeted Bodie with a tongue lashing of the slobbery kind.

  “You shouldn’t be out here.” I sounded like the kid’s mother.

  “I snuck. All the old folks are real sick, busy dying.” Bodie gasped for breath. His little legs had worked so hard to catch us it took a moment for the words to be put together in such a way they made sense.

  “What do you mean, all the old people are …?”

  “Dying.” He nodded, still gasping.

  “Catch your breath, then talk,” Tens commanded, scooting his back against a tree. Like we had all the time in the world and a surprise rendezvous with a first-grader was perfectly normal.

  Mini wrapped herself around my legs, reaching up with her claws to stretch her back, but I didn’t feel any divine information headed my way. She meowed plaintively; maybe it was my imagination, but she sounded quite disgusted with me. She twitched her tail and turned to Tens.

  Bodie knelt on the grass, but he stayed out of reach. I didn’t know if that was because he didn’t trust us, or because his instinct was to make sure he could escape any situation. “Mini said we needed to get you back.”

  “Back?”

  “Uh-huh. To the house. The bells and stuff started dinging. You left and they went crazy.” His eyes widened.

  I glanced at Tens.

  “So Mini says you have to come back and sneak into the house until it’s safe again for Juliet.”

  “Oh—” Now the cat talked to Bodie, too? What was wrong with me?

  “No.” Tens talked over me.

  “We can’t—” I shook my head.

  “You hafta,” Bodie insisted.

  Mini punctuated this with a yowl. Bodie scrambled up and headed back toward Dunklebarger with her. “Come on!” His voice held an authority that belied his tiny frame and oversized eyes. “Hurry!”

  “Merry, you can’t.” Tens caught my arm as I started to follow.

  “I’m okay. I can handle the willing souls fine.”

  He nodded acceptance.

  Tens and I jogged along with Bodie until we got to the back of the house. Bodie dipped under a tall hedge of vines.

  “Don’t touch those,” he said over his shoulder. What was easy for the boy to squeeze through was hard for me and almost impossible for Tens.

  Bodie watched us struggle through. “Sorry, it’s the fastest way to the house.”

  Vines wrapped around my neck and arms, creeping down my shirt like itchy fingers. I battled them like they were living opponents. I had to be more tired than I thought to hallucinate that much. They seemed to move at will, not as inert vines should. I shivered.

  We waited outside the kitchen door, in the shadows, along the back of the building. Then we crept in at Bodie’s frantic hand signals.

  Tens mumbled under his breath, “We’re insane.”

  Sneaking through the kitchen with appliances way predating this century, we heard yelling and trampling footsteps above our heads.

  “In here.” Bodie herded us toward the stairs, opened a small door, and shoved us into a cramped storage space. “Go to the back. Nico will get you when it’s safe. Keep going.” He thrust a flashlight into my hands, gestured for us to tunnel in, and shut the door behind us.

  I couldn’t help but wonder if this was a trap. A crazy Nocti plan to lock us in a closet and burn the house down around us. I flicked the switch and handed the flashlight forward to Tens. He pushed past stacks of toilet paper and paper towels. “There’s a mattress back here,” he whispered.

  “Tens?” The hair on the back of my neck stood up. “I need to sit.” I felt like I’d stuck my head out of a window of a car going sixty miles per hour—the world rushed up toward my face and I stood at a shining summer window.

  “Hello, dear.” Auntie stood next to me. She embraced me and I felt her against me, solid flesh and blood. I smelled her apple blossom soap and famous chocolate cake.

  Shocked, I wrapped my arms around her. “I can hear you?” I asked. Lined up around us were six elderly men and women growing more vibrant with each second, like extra coats of colorful paint were added with each blink. And children—there were children lined up single file, just a few, confused, but there nonetheless. Were children dying in here or were these ghosts of children who’d passed but hadn’t transitioned?

  “We don’t have much time, these lovely souls have agreed to take turns with your window. Slowly, so we can talk.”

  “How is this possible?” I asked, aghast.

  Auntie’s face grew serious. “There’s no time for that. Look in the journal, 1943 and a girl named Prunella.”

  I nodded as if this made sense.

  Auntie continued. “You have to be careful not to scare Juliet. She won’t believe. The key is Father Anthony, get her to him. She won’t leave the others without making the choice be hers. You must be patient. There’s a Nocti clan nearby. You must be ready for anything.”

  In no time at all, Auntie moved back toward the window as the last elderly man stepped across, holding the hand of a small boy I didn’t recognize.

  “Why are there kids here?”

  “They sacrifice to convert—”

  “But—” I called to her, watching her disappear across the ledge. I didn’t want her to leave. I gasped for breath and blinked up at Tens, whose hand covered my mouth. The flashlight was pressed tightly against his chest, so only the faintest glow illuminated him.

  I relaxed my grip on his hand; I knew my nails left deep crescent marks.

  His expression questioned whether I was awake enough for him to release my mouth or not.

  I nodded, gulping air. Even the stuffy, dusty, stagnant air of the crawl space quenched my need for oxygen.

  My right leg cramped and I straightened it by contorting around Tens’s waist. We must have looked like a freeze-frame during a game of Twister.

  “Okay?” he asked, shifting.

  “Better,” I said as my cramp eased.

  His breathing evened out, to the point that I might have believed he’d fallen asleep, if not for the tension holding his frame motionless.

  I strained my ears to distinguish noises and voices from the sounds rolling around us. My mind filled in the blanks, imagining all sorts of wild scenarios. Darkness did terrible things to my imagination. Anxiety ate at my rational self and I was transported back to Revelation, worrying that at any moment Perimo might storm in with henchmen and burn us like the
y burned Auntie’s house and her remains. He’s dead. He’s dead. He’s dead. Josiah killed him. You were there. You saw it.

  My mantra brought little comfort, but I kept repeating it in my head, while trying to match my breath to Tens’s. Josiah, a Sangre Warrior, the species of angel who battle evil with light, filled Perimo with so much light, Perimo’s darkness disappeared for good. I didn’t know enough about Sangre yet. To the best of my knowledge they were the only ones able to kill Nocti. It wasn’t as if Josiah was on my speed dial. But there were more Nocti out there. Causing chaos. Creating havoc. Ripping souls from their families and taking them to the void. Hunting Fenestra to kill or turn. Manipulating the environment to take advantage of human frailty was against the rule of the Creators—that was where Sangre came into play. I think. I hadn’t figured out how Fenestras could defeat Nocti if a Sangre wasn’t available.

  Tens turned off the flashlight. Not even the crack of light from under the small door made it to us back behind the cleaning supplies. “Merry, why is there a mattress tucked back here?” Tens whispered against my ear, his breath tickling, sending shivers down my spine.

  “What?” I blinked.

  “Someone sleeps here.”

  Or we will, if this is a trap. “Maybe they knew we were coming and made a holding cell?”

  “There wouldn’t be a kinda comfortable mattress then.” He tsked.

  “Good point.” They’d throw us in a dungeon or the modern equivalent.

  “So … who?” Tens wouldn’t drop it and I took the bait.

  Who sleeps here? Who tucked an air mattress and a single ratty old army blanket behind paper towels and rolls of TP? Someone hiding.

  “It’s hidden,” I said.

  Tens nodded against my neck.

  I concentrated on being completely in the moment. Pushing all fear of the unknown out of my head. I closed my eyes, even though in the dark it was a redundant gesture.

  “Juliet.” I felt the truth in her name.

  “Why?” He shifted his hips against me.

  I don’t know how, but I simply know. It was the same feeling I had when we’d come upon her at the creek. Pieces fit together. When I wasn’t stuck in the past, in my fear of Nocti and what we’d experienced in Colorado, I felt stronger. “She escapes back here. Turn on the flashlight.”

  He clicked the switch back on. “Careful,” he warned.

  I glanced around and noticed three bottles of cleaners in the far back corner. They looked out of place. “Hand me the bleach.”

  “What are you doing?” He reached for the bottle and lifted it. It rattled. Not like it held liquid, but like pieces of glass or metal were inside. He paused, quirking a brow in question.

  “Open it,” I demanded.

  Tens shifted against me, our legs tangled in the small space. He accidentally elbowed me in the ribs.

  “Umph.”

  “Sorry.”

  I shook my head. Nodded at the bottle.

  He tried to unscrew the top, but it wouldn’t come off.

  “Wait.” I saw a piece of duct tape on the bottom. “Turn it over.”

  Tens pointed the flashlight directly at the bottom of the jug. The contents shifted and rattled with each movement. We both turned toward the door hoping no one heard. Silence fell upon the activity above our heads.

  “Not bleach.”

  I carefully lifted the tape and peered inside using the flashlight. I saw a collection of pebbles, shells, an arrowhead, and feathers.

  Tens took a look. “What do you think this is?”

  “Treasures?”

  We opened another bottle and saw a bird’s nest filled with empty blue eggshells, carefully wrapped in toilet paper to keep the bundle safe. I gently put it all back, pondering why Juliet kept a collection of outside trinkets disguised in plastic bottles.

  We couldn’t risk making more noise, because the quiet felt oppressive.

  I heard doors slamming above our heads as what seemed like several vehicles drove up outside. More doors slammed and a clatter of heels against the stairs descended.

  A woman’s voice? I think it was the woman who let us use the phone. A headmistress who seemed more interested in her next drink than running this place. I didn’t think she was Nocti, but I felt like she had bad energy. Her heels clicked back up the stairs, with heavier footsteps following. Car doors?

  A man spoke. Neither Tens nor I could catch his words, but we heard the response clearly.

  His coworker said, “Sleeping like the dead I was. So freakin’ inconsiderate dying in the middle of the night.”

  I wanted to bust out of the closet and scream at him until he understood the word respect. I just tightened my hold on Tens, whose expression said that he wanted to do the same thing. Only Tens would have used less words, more actions, to get his point across. Finally, the next wave of activity subsided. Engines started up and drove off. The heels clicked by and didn’t return.

  I shifted my neck to ease a new cramp and wondered if I’d make it to a bathroom before things hit critical mass. For the umpteenth time, I wished my special powers were more practical, like not experiencing hunger or thirst, or never needing potty breaks. Seriously, those would come in handy, whereas these death powers, these just got in my way.

  “Can you reach my midback?” Tens whispered.

  I brought a hand up. “I think so.”

  “Scratch between my shoulder blades.”

  I scratched gently through his shirt.

  “Harder.”

  I felt his muscles ripple as he stretched against my hand.

  “Thanks. Better.”

  I stopped, but left my hand on his back.

  “That was driving me nuts.” He smiled down at me, and for the first time I realized he lay on top of me, with his legs over mine. My heart sped up and even in this dangerous, crazy situation I wanted him to kiss me. We pressed together; parts of me were quite happy with the contact. He too was aroused by the proximity. Someone at school used to talk about fear and survival making for the best sex. Maybe they were right.

  My desire must have changed my expression or muscle tension, because Tens began to lean down toward me. His tongue licked his lips and I mimicked him.

  The door to the closet opened with a snick.

  We leapt, tangling further, startled back to reality. It took a moment for me to regain my equilibrium, but Tens uncurled and moved between me and the door.

  A face I’d only seen from a distance peered in. “I’m Nicole. It’s safe, but we must hurry.” We scooted out as quickly and quietly as possible. Transitioning those souls had left my legs rubbery and asleep.

  I felt like a secret agent lurking around corners, following this girl toward our freedom.

  Bodie poked his head out from under a table as we went by and gave us a thumbs-up.

  I smiled in return, not sure what about this pleased him.

  None of us spoke, relying solely on hand signals and head shakes. As the back door swung shut behind us, Nicole caught it and closed it without a sound breaking the night air.

  She led the way toward the hedge along the side of the property. “Go around, not through.” She pointed.

  “Why? That’s the way we came.” I gestured toward where Bodie brought us. It would be so much faster.

  “There’s a terrible patch of poison ivy in there.”

  That was the second time I’d heard warnings about ivy. Didn’t it just grow up old brick buildings? “What’s that?”

  “How do you not know about poison ivy?” she asked, a shocked, horrified expression on her face.

  Father Anthony has been so kind. It is my hope that he’ll act as godfather for you and protect you if I’m notable.

  —R.

  CHAPTER 23

  Juliet

  On two hours of sleep, I’d made oatmeal and toast for the four of us kids. It was odd to have all the rooms unoccupied; I couldn’t remember that happening before.

  I tasted ooey-gooey macaron
i and cheese and rich, velvety chocolate cake on the back of my tongue. I hoped Mistress would leave the house again long enough for me to sneak those out of my head and onto our plates.

  Exhaustion from the night’s events kept dragging at me like wet winter clothes during a creek swim. I didn’t know how much longer I’d be able to resist the pull of a current I didn’t understand. What would happen if I laid down and refused to ever get up again?

  “How are you feeling today?” Nicole put her hand on my forehead.

  “A cold, maybe.” My face was aflame and I felt like I was running a fever. My throat was stripped raw.

  “Are you getting sick?”

  “Of course not.” Work didn’t stop for illness.

  “Maybe you should go back to bed?”

  “I can’t.”

  “I think we need to talk about your birthday.”

  “What about it?”

  “What are you going to do?”

  “Do?”

  “Next. When she asks you about what you want?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “You have to think about it.”

  “I can’t.” I bit off the words. “Please just stop.”

  “I can’t stop time.” Nicole looked sad, then went to the pantry and pulled out a brown grocery bag. “Here are some clothes.”

  “For what?”

  “You’ll blend better in this stuff.” She pushed the bag toward me when I didn’t take it. “For coffee with Ms. Asura. Why don’t you go shower? It might make you feel better.”

  I nodded, too achy to argue. “Thank you,” I said.

  She nodded, turning back to the dishes immediately.

  However much I wished I could spend the day in hot water, I showered quickly, not wanting Mistress to notice my absence. I tugged on crisp black jeans, a black T-shirt with constellations silk-screened on it, and a red hoodie.

  Since all Nicole wore was dresses, I knew these weren’t her clothes. Besides, I would never fit my length and width into her stuff. My usual sneakers were falling off my feet and used to belong to Mrs. Kapowsky, who was here three weeks and taught me a French lullaby to sing to the kids. The shoes Nicole had given me were orthopedic and completely ugly, but black, so not as obvious as some others. I couldn’t pay attention to fashion—as if I even had time to. I didn’t ask Nicole where she’d found the clothes. They didn’t come from the closet or suitcase of one of the deceased—they fit too well and were too new.