The Stargazers

by Allison M. Dickson

  Aster gazed out at the garden, where a group of brown rabbits was munching at the carrot tops. “No. No, I wouldn’t.”

  “Even if it meant the end of your world?”

  “I’d rather kill myself to fulfill the obligation. If there is an obligation to be fulfilled.”

  Iris didn’t say anything for a few minutes after that. Aster wondered if her answer had stunned her into silence. “Is that what you plan to do?” Her voice was a hoarse whisper. Aster looked over and saw that the old woman’s face had gone pale, and it was completely drained of its good cheer.

  “I don’t know what I plan to do. I don’t want to die. All I keep thinking about is what you told me yesterday when we first met. You said I had to go my own way. That way hasn’t become clear yet, but think I’ll know what it is when it comes.”

  Iris’s smile slowly lit up her face. “Good for you, darlin’. You’re thinking like an independent woman, which is more than I can say about anybody livin’ in that world of ours.”

  “Well, except Oleander. She’s off on a whole other plan over here. I can’t figure out what it is yet, but she needs to be stopped. I plan to go back home and get my mother and Lily to help me.” And they will. Gods help me, they’ll do everything I tell them to do. It’s because of them and their lies that we’re in this mess.

  “How do you plan to get home?”

  “Larkspur will go through and get them. They will come.”

  They sat in silence for awhile and Aster noticed the sun was cresting toward the noon hour. Mama Iris got up to go inside. “I’ll make us some lunch. You sit here and think as long as you need to.”

  After a few minutes of ruminating on self-sacrifice and a possibly bloody confrontation with Oleander, she decided that the only thing she wanted right now was to talk to Bryon. This would likely be the last time she’d get to see him before she went back to Ellemire. And she could see nothing beyond that. Dared not to, really.

  She went into the house and found Iris scooping something between pieces of bread. “Can I speak with Bryon?”

  “You mean call him? Phone’s here on the wall.”

  She stared at the strange device and its pad of numbers for a minute. “How do I use this thing?”

  Mama Iris laughed and pulled out a thin book from a kitchen drawer. After a moment of flipping through it, she picked up one piece of the device and showed Aster how to hold it to her ear. Then she punched some buttons. “You’ll hear some ringing and then some voices. Talk naturally.”

  After a couple rings, someone answered. “Quick Lube, oil changes and more. This is Onyx.”

  What an amazing device!

  “Hello Onyx? This is Aster. Um. Is Bryon there?”

  She heard a clunk followed by him yelling, “Bry, ball and chain on line one!” Then another rustle and then he said, “He’ll be here in a sec.”

  “Thank you.”

  “No prob.”

  Another minute or two passed and the sound of a breathless, “Hello?” filled Aster’s ear. He must have come at a flat run.

  “Hello. I hope you weren’t too busy.”

  “I’m never too busy for you. How are you? Need anything?”

  Aster could think of a million and one things she needed right then. A ticket out of reality was one of them. And maybe one for Bryon too so she wouldn’t have to leave him. “Can we meet sometime this evening? I need to see you.”

  “All right. Definitely. Um, how about the place I first took you?”

  Ah, the burial mound. What a way to come full circle. The omen should have worried her, but that didn’t occur to her until much later, when everything had gone so terribly wrong.

  “I’ll see you there,” she said, and hung up.

  -24-

  Aster whittled away the rest of the afternoon at Mama Iris’s strawberry stand, drinking tea and selling fruit to the occasional passerby. Iris told her stories about her life, both in Ellemire and in this world. She was particularly amused by one where Mama Iris had used her plant growing abilities to win the blue ribbon at the Miller’s Glenn pumpkin contest so many times that she finally had to drop out because people were sneaking onto her property to steal her soil. “They thought all the magic was in there, but of course it’s in here.” She wiggled her fingers and tapped her temple.

  When the sun was on its way toward the horizon, Aster stood up to go. “It’s time to meet Bryon. After I say goodbye to him, I’m leaving for the Tree.” Maybe if things went well enough, she could even convince Bryon to drive her there.

  Iris stood up and held out a hand. “Hold on now, girl. You’ve got a lot of determination about this, but you got no real plan. If that’s really Oleander squattin’ in Miss Ivy’s body, she ain’t here just to stop you from doin’ what you was sent here to do, or she would have killed you in your sleep on the first night.”

  “I considered that.” Actually, she hadn’t, but she wasn’t about to say so. “I just don’t know what she wants from me.”

  Iris raised an eyebrow. “You’re jokin’, right? To someone like her, you’re like the golden ticket to get into Willy Wonka’s chocolate factory.”

  “Huh?”

  “She wants to use you for somethin’. Probably more than one thing. Your magic, most of all. If she gets the best of you, both our worlds will be in a world of hurt.”

  She was right of course, but she still wasn’t going to confront her aunt without reinforcements. Aster picked up her backpack still heavy with the water and Ruby’s homemade bread. “I’ll take care of her. At the very least, she has to pay for what she did to Ivy. But I need to get to the park. Bryon will be waiting.”

  “Cut through the path that runs through the woods behind the house. There’s an old bicycle next to my porch. They’re a little like the velocipedes back home, only with two wheels instead of one. Watch yourself and don’t trust nothing and nobody but yourself. You’ll figure this out, and if there’s nothin’ else you can do but…” She paused and tears welled up in her eyes.

  She hugged her great aunt. “I won’t put myself on the Giving Altar unless I know for sure that’s what I must do. I promise.”

  Iris nodded and tears spilled out of her eyes. “That’s a good girl. Now get up on that thing and ride. That is, if you can.”

  Aster laughed. She’d ridden a few velocipedes in her life. None since she was a child, but she was pretty sure it was impossible to forget. “I think I can manage. Thank you, Mama Iris.”

  The two women embraced and Aster set off, grabbing the bike on her way. It was old, but well maintained with a big comfortable seat. The ride through the woods was smooth along the well-worn path, and she had just enough light to see by. She rehearsed in her head how she was going to tell Bryon goodbye and then go confront the most dangerous person she knew. The weight of both tasks was nearly crippling. But maybe Ruby would help her.

  The evening was moving swiftly toward twilight when Aster leaned her bike against the tree near the base of the burial mound. She saw Bryon’s car parked nearby and looked to see his silhouette at the top of the stairs. He raised his hand in a wave and her heart swelled in her chest, from both love and nerves She took two steps at a time most of the way up and fell into his arms, breathless and sweating. “I’m so glad to see you,” she said, meaning every word but wanting to cry anyway.

  “Same here. And look. I brought us a little surprise.”

  Aster stepped back and looked down. A white sheet was spread out on the slate, on top of which were two huge sandwiches and a bottle of wine, along with a candle and a vase of pink flowers. The gesture was so sweet that she teared up immediately. “It’s perfect.” She bent down to touch the flowers.

  “Asters for Aster,” he said. “I got off a little early today so I could find them. They match your hair.”

  She kissed him. “I love them.”

  They both sat down on the sheet. Aster brought out the loaf of bread Ruby had baked and sat it down next to the other food.

>   “What’s that?” Bryon asked.

  “Ruby baked some fresh strawberry bread this morning. Said it was a peace offering for being so tough on you in the beginning.”

  He smiled and shook his head. “I don’t think I’ll ever understand that girl.”

  Aster didn’t argue. The bread was still giving her a tinge of misgiving, but she was probably just feeling a bit bruised after everything that had happened over the last few days.

  “You sounded a little upset over the phone today when you called. Everything okay?” He removed his sandwich from the wrapping and took a big bite.

  Aster, who had never felt less hungry in her life, took a big breath instead. If she was going to tell him, now was the time. “I’m scared to death right now. There is something about me you don’t know. Well, there’s a lot about me you don’t know.” She poured herself a glass of from the chilling wine bottle, which was really just sparkling grape juice, and took a drink to wet her drying mouth. The bubbles stung her tongue.

  “You don’t have any reason to be afraid, Aster. Trust me, you could tell me you had a kid or some incurable disease and I wouldn’t be scared away.”

  “I don’t have a child, though it’s funny you mention that, because that’s one reason I was sent here.”

  “Sent here? Like, from another planet?” Bryon arched a humorous eyebrow.

  “Still the same planet. But a different version of it, I guess.” She could feel the words backing up in her mouth like a log jam. Maybe telling him wasn’t the best way. Then her eyes spotted a bandage on his finger. “What happened to your hand?”

  “Just a little cut. Happens a lot on the job. Man, this stuff just looks too good to ignore.” He unwrapped Ruby’s bread and tore off a chunk. The strong smell of strawberries wafted up Aster’s nose along with another scent she hadn’t noticed earlier. But she couldn’t quite place it. It was slightly off, though. Metallic or herbal. Perhaps it was something on the wind. “Wow, this bread is amazing,” he said around a mouthful.

  “Can I see it?” she asked, gesturing toward his finger.

  Bryon peeled off the bandage. “This isn’t gonna hurt, is it?” He took a drink of his soda and uttered a loud belch. His other hand flew to his mouth. “Whoa, that was unexpected. Sorry.”

  “No worries.” She took his hand in hers and examined the cut while Bryon continued to eat pieces of the bread with his free hand. It was just a superficial wound, but it should be about the same. She passed her fingers over the cut and muttered the same healing incantations she’d used on the fruit and vegetables.

  “That burns! Fuck! What are you doing?” He yanked his hand away and for a moment Aster saw a look in his eyes that was ferocious. Wild, even. Like he might reach out and bite off a chunk of her flesh. Then it disappeared in a blink, replaced by gaping astonishment.

  “You…you healed me,” he whispered. “I’m…you… Are you a…?”

  “I’m a witch. I come from a land called Ellemire, which is a whole other world. My family—”

  “Wow, that’s really crazy, Aster. I mean, I expected a psycho ex boyfriend, but not Sabrina the Teenage Witch from a parallel dimension.” Bryon stuffed enough of the bread in his mouth to puff up his cheeks. His lips were stained red from the cooked strawberries.

  “You don’t believe me?” Her heart sank. She’d put it all out there and now it was too late to let it back in. But there was something else. Bryon was acting different. Callous, verbally aggressive. He had also eaten almost the entire loaf of bread in a matter of a couple minutes. “Are you okay, Bryon? Hey, maybe you should stop eating that br—”

  “Don’t tell me what to do!”

  The outburst, so unlike the boy she knew, sent her reeling backward. A cold breeze blew in and extinguished the candle between them as if on cue, draping them in darkness lit only by a moon approaching half. She could still see his eyes, though. They had a hungry look that reminded her of a lion on the prowl. He leaned closer to her, one corner of his mouth coming up in a crooked and devious grin.

  “Bryon, what’s the matter with you?” she asked.

  Then she smelled the herbs on his breath and something horrible clicked into place.

  Ruby, what have you done?

  She had been so angry at them both, so heartbroken. And Aster, after years of growing up with Oleander’s manipulative behavior, had sensed something hollow in that sudden change of heart. Yet, she’d fallen for it hook and line, hadn’ she?

  Stupid! Oh, Ruby what did that vile woman promise you?

  She continued to back up as Bryon advanced on her. “Bryon? Sweetie? You’re not well right now.” She tried to keep her voice calm in the hopes of overcoming whatever force the potion had put on him, but her mounting horror was making her words shake. “I’m going to leave now. When you’re feeling better, we can talk.”

  “What potion? Did you try to poison me? You little… little… cock tease.” His eyes narrowed.

  “What? No!” His crude words were more frightening than the new rough grumble in his voice.

  “You come around here, flouncing your pink hair and throwing your come-fuck-me eyes my way. I’ve noticed the way you’ve been… been teasing me. Getting me all excited and then pushing me away when you’ve had enough. You think you’re better than me, don’t you?”

  He was crawling closer, pushing her farther away from the stairs, her only means of escape. She scrabbled closer to the fence, but he grabbed her legs and yanked her toward him. Her back scraped against the rough stone.

  “Bryon, this isn’t you! Please listen to me. You’ve been poisoned.”

  “Shut up, you bitch. You dirty little slut. You’re not leaving until I get what’s mine.” He grabbed her by the shoulders and leapt upon her. His weight suddenly felt immense. Strings of drool dripped from his leering mouth and onto her face, and the lids of his eyes were tinged with red, as if he was sick with fever.

  She bucked and writhed under him, trying to break free, but he was as unyielding as a boulder. “Let me go!” she screamed, and a hard blow from his calloused worker’s hands collided with the side of her face. Stars exploded in her vision.

  “I’m gonna fuck me a witch. I’m gonna fuck… me… a filthy little witch.” He thrust himself against her, and she felt the hardness that was there. Her mind became a blur of panic.

  “Don’t do this, Bryon. Please! This isn’t you. This isn’t you!” She pressed her hands against his face in the hopes that she could heal whatever it was that had gone wrong in his brain, but he bit her wrist and punched her.

  His knuckles felt like ball bearings and they cut through the skin of her cheek. Warm blood trickled down into her ear. At least he hit the other side, she thought.

  “You’re mine, you little freak.” He bent down and began kissing and biting her neck as he ripped the clasp on her shorts and yanked them down. The night air and the stone beneath her chilled her flesh.

  He began fumbling with his pants next. The full weight of him as he leaned on her squeezed the air out of her lungs. There would be no more screaming. She briefly considered letting him just take her so she might live, but she worried that he would do more than just rape her. He might snap her neck afterward.

  Bryon threw her shorts to the side and Aster heard something clatter onto the stone and roll against her hip. In his frenzied lust, Bryon didn’t seem to notice, and for a moment, Aster wasn’t sure what it was either.

  Then her mind threw up the image of the peacekeeper. Sheriff Kennedy, the man who had once loved her mother and who might very well be her father, and something clicked home.

  She wrenched her hand loose and grabbed the cylindrical can of pepper spray. “I’m so sorry, Bryon,” she whispered. Pointing the sprayer toward Bryon’s face (she hoped, anyway), she pressed the red button on top.

  The air between them filled with searing vapor.

  Aster and Bryon screamed as both of them took a full hit of the spray and they rolled away from each other. Ast
er’s eyes felt like they were going to melt right out of her head as she coughed and gagged. The mist was far more powerful than she’d expected. Not even in Oleander’s potion room had she experienced something so noxious.

  She placed her hands against her eyes and sent some healing into them. An immediate cool filled her head. She opened her eyes and saw Bryon stumbling toward the staircase, pants around his ankles, blindly furious.

  “Goddamn you sneaky little bitch! I’ll make you pay for that!” He leaned over and vomited a hot, gelatinous stream of partially digested bread and strawberries and then stumbled away from the pile of waste as if he was afraid of touching it. He was within only a couple steps of going over backward.

  “Bryon, stop moving! You’ll fall!” Aster leapt up to grab him before he went over the edge, but her legs tangled in her underwear, which were also around her ankles and she crashed to the ground, scraping her elbows on the slate.

  Aster watched the rest happen in a sickening slow motion.

  Bryon’s left heel went over empty space. He seemed to realize this, for he cried out and scrambled to find purchase on the rail, but the rotting wood pulled away under his weight and he went toppling backward down the stairs. She heard the crunch of him landing on the rough-hewn steps.

  Aster let out another throat-scraping wail and dove for the edge, but the darkness and her still-adjusting eyes prevented her from seeing beyond the first couple steps. “Bryon! I’m coming!” Standing up, mindless of the air on her naked bottom half, she grabbed the railing on the other side and made her way down the steps as fast as she could, aware that a simple misstep could send her to a similar fate.

  She cried out his name again, but only crickets, completely oblivious to the horror nearby, answered back.

  He wasn’t on the first landing. How far had he fallen? Her eyes, still hadn’t adjusted to the dark, and she tried desperately to see further down. She stepped onto the next set of stairs and a hand wrapped around her ankle and pulled.

  Before she could let out more than a squeak, she went down hard on the landing, knocking the wind out of her lungs and rapping her head on the sharp edge of one of the stone steps. More blood from a new wound trickled down the back of her neck. The flavor of more blood filled her mouth from where she’d bitten her tongue. Her thoughts and reflexes felt muddy as she struggled to get away and sit up. How many times had she hit her head since all this began, anyway?