by Laury Falter
He was smirking at me. “What are you planning on doing with that?” he asked in his thick English accent. I could feel my heart quicken.
“Defend myself,” I retorted, stowing the chair next to the other one. I found myself trying to avoid staring at him and hoping he wasn’t realizing it. “What are you doing here?” I demanded, while standing up to face him.
He freed one hand to tip the rim of his cap toward me, which must have been his version of a greeting. I thought it was a haughty gesture…yet charming at the same time.
He was a foot away now, and I could feel myself being drawn toward him, enticed by him.
“I’ve actually been here for a while,” he said, casually, as he leaned back against the gate.
I felt his eyes on me even as I looked for something else to do, trying to keep him from seeing what he was doing to me. In the end, he was unavoidable.
“But why? What are you doing here?” I persisted.
“Well,” he said, struggling not to grin at my obvious irritation. “Despite your sentiment last time we saw each other, I came by to see if you needed help.”
I sighed, loudly. “You were checking up on me?”
He shrugged, a guilty expression marring his handsome face, although I knew he didn’t feel an ounce of remorse.
“Didn’t I tell you I could take care of myself?”
“Yes, yes, you did…” He nodded in agreement. “I still came.”
Neither of us moved, allowing silence to surround us. It was as if we were staring each other down, willing the other to speak first.
His sultry eyes watched me, curious and teasing. How could anyone be this beautiful and aggravating at the same time? I was sure he missed nothing…my now rapidly beating heart, my visible shortness of breath, and my busy eyes flickering away from his.
In the end, I decided it would be me to break the silence, or I was going to pass out right there.
“I’ve been in dangerous situations before, you know.”
He seemed unimpressed. He nodded his head downward once, submissively, and uttered, “I’m sure you have.”
Apparently he wasn’t getting my implied point. He wasn’t moving; instead, he remained poised against the fence. Maybe he needed further clarification.
“I can take care of myself,” I insisted. It was something I meant and intended to prove, if I ever got the chance.
“You’ve made that clear,” he replied, flatly.
I wasn’t sure if he was being facetious or sincere, but I decided either way, it didn’t matter. The message I wanted to get across was that I emphatically did not want him to think I was so weak that I needed someone watching over me, trying to be a savior.
“Well, you can stick around if you want…waiting for a building to collapse on me…but you’re going to be sorely disappointed.” I said this even as I realized my body was still feeling the effects of Sharar, and I noticed that the goose bumps hadn’t disappeared from my arms yet.
“Are you in that much of a hurry to get rid of me?” he asked, disrupting my thoughts and drawing my attention back to him. It seemed like he was a bit appalled, possibly even hurt at the idea.
“Get rid of…no…I just don’t want you to waste your time.”
I certainly didn’t want him to leave, even if I was a bit conflicted by his presence. I liked him being here…anywhere really so long as I was there too. I felt comfortable in his presence as if I had known him my entire life and could say nearly anything that was on my mind.
I simply wanted him to be here for a different reason, a reason that didn’t include me being a damsel in distress. He obviously saw himself as a hero, but a hero was only a hero if the person being saved wasn’t strong enough to save themselves. I was certainly capable of saving myself.
He folded his arms across his solid chest and settled back against the rails - into what I was finding to be his natural, smug demeanor. “Well…I don’t believe I’m wasting my time. Eventually you’ll need saving.”
My mouth fell open at his audacity. “See that…that belief is truly wrong. You do understand that I’ve survived eighteen years without your assistance. Right?”
“I do,” he agreed readily, and to my relief it seemed that he finally understood my point. Then he went a step further, eradicating any good will. “I just don’t know how.”
I clenched my jaw in response, and seeing this, he bowed his head to chuckle.
I knew I had three options. I could release the torrent of words and curses that were racing through my mind and make it unmistakably clear that I did not need a savior. I could silently suppress the emotions brewing inside me, pick up my backpack, and head home, although this wasn’t really an option for me, or I could change the subject to avoid further aggravating myself. I chose the final alternative.
“So are you going to tell me your name?” I shrugged, trying to break his stare. I began to realize that, whenever he was near, I was so conscious of him I forgot to breathe; as a result, I took a deep breath for good measure.
A wide smirk contorted his face; that, I was learning, must be his trademark expression. “I was wondering when you were going to ask. I’m Eran.”
“Maggie,” I said. It could have been the fact that he simply stared back, showing no sign that he was storing my name in the back of his mind, but I got the distinct, albeit irrational, feeling that he somehow already knew my name.
My instinct was to extend my hand in greeting, even though I knew this was not typical behavior for someone my age. Nevertheless, living on the road you grow up quickly.
He seemed to have the same inhibition because he didn’t immediately take my hand. Instead, he stared at it as if he was torn between being cordial and being rude.
Clearly feeling his discomfort, I began to withdraw the invitation and pulled my hand back. Upon realizing what I was doing, he had second thoughts and quickly reached to grasp it.
As his hand came around mine, the rush of his words registered with me. “I run hot.”
His long fingers encircled my own as his palm - twice the size of mine - pressed down, engulfing my hand.
He wasn’t kidding about the heat.
From the second we made contact, I felt as if my skin was shrinking, its moisture evaporating, and a thin layer peeling back…shriveling like a grape that withers in the scorching afternoon sun.
The heat from his skin created an invisible fireball, burning into my flesh. I felt like I reacted instantaneously, but it was still too long. I wrenched my hand free even as he pulled away.
“I’m sorry,” he whispered. “I shouldn’t have allowed that.”
I didn’t bother to respond. My attention was on my hand and the fact that even as the piercing pain subsided I noted that no damage had been. If it weren’t for the throbbing, I wouldn’t even have known we had touched.
“Are you hurt?” Eran asked with sincere interest.
“No,” I shook my head, more in astonishment than to enforce my answer. “No, there…there are no marks.”
Eran was leaning in for confirmation, so I showed him. “See? Nothing.”
Only after I had turned my hand over – twice – did he believe me. He straightened up, clearly remorseful, though I couldn’t understand why. It wasn’t his fault. He didn’t know I would hold him for as long as I did. It must have been a deep, unavoidable desire causing me to seize the opportunity and hold on despite the pain.
Eran tucked his thumbs back in his pockets, as if it would prevent them from doing any further harm.
Deciding the best course of action to help him overcome his evident guilt was to change the subject, I did just that – trying not to wring the pain from my hand as I spoke.
“So, Eran, how is it that I’ve crossed paths with you more often than anyone else in this city? Are you stalking me?” I said this in jest, and thankfully my tone conveyed it, despite the persistent ache in my hand.
“You’re sure you’re all right?” he asked again as if my
answer might change. I wondered if he could somehow see that the pain lingered.
“Perfectly fine, really.”
He stared at me, disbelieving. After a brief pause, he must have realized I wasn’t going to confess, so he decided to refute my accusation instead. “I have far better things to do with my time than to be a stalker.”
He was still glancing at my hand so I pressed the conversation further, hoping to divert his attention. There was no sense in dragging out our discomfort. “So how is it then?” I persisted.
“How is what?” He brought his eyes back to mine. This was good. Progress.
“That I keep running into you?”
The side of his mouth turned up in a confident grin. “I suppose you’re just lucky.”
That response triggered anger, so fluid it quickly flooded my veins. Here I was trying to make the fact that he’d burned me a passing thought for him, and he used the opportunity to mock me.
In return, I laughed sarcastically. “Well…Eran…It’s getting late, and I should be going.” I hoped he saw through the fake cliché of those words. Let him be offended.
The stinging throb in my hand had disappeared now, so without waiting for him to reply, I reached down to grab my backpack. In truth, I was torn between wanting to stay here and banter, though I certainly did not want to give him any reason to believe that his cockiness was welcomed, or to leave and head home for a hamburger and tofu turkey tacos.
Fate made up my mind for me. As I took hold of the thick green strap, something twitched inside.
I paused, wondering if I’d really just felt something move.
Then a head peered out. It was black and triangular and its flickering tongue tested the air toward me.
I yanked my hand back.
The head darted forward, and the ten-foot long body of a shiny black snake slithered out.
The next moments were a blur, running together like ink bleeding on a page.
I vaguely sensed that the snake came straight at me, even as I ran backwards to avoid it. It was fast and within seconds had reached my toes, even though by then, I was more than ten feet from my backpack.
Out of the corner of my eye I saw Eran move toward it. I tried to warn him against it, but my throat had gone dry and the sound came out a whimper.
By then, he’d reached down and seized the snake by its head. Even in my panic I realized how fast Eran had moved – far too fast. He appeared distorted, as if he were nothing more than colorful images blending together. On a subconscious level, something registered in my mind. His speed was not normal, but that thought didn’t linger once I saw the snake’s head lean back. It opened its jaw and snapped down toward Eran’s hand. Offering little resistance, its fangs easily punctured Eran’s flawless skin. The fangs went so deep, I watched its gums disappear into Eran’s heated flesh.
I heard a scream but didn’t immediately recognize that it came from me. The snake released its iron grip. Yet, Eran didn’t move. His hand remained still. Instead, his head jerked up searching, bewildered, for the reason that caused my reaction.
“Your—your hand,” I mumbled, pointing to where the snake had bitten him.
He glanced down at where its fangs had made contact. “Oh, that. Didn’t even break the skin.”
I felt my mouth fall open in shock at his nonchalance.
“No…I saw it. I saw its fangs out. They sunk in…they went deep into your skin. I saw it, Eran.”
“I’m fine,” he replied calmly. “See for yourself.”
With the snake firmly in his grasp, Eran’s thumb had been caressing the top of its head, and its body – all ten feet of it – had begun to stop writhing. After a few seconds, the snake was limp.
I took a step forward, my eyes locked on the snake’s head, in case it should move again, and Eran held his hand out for me to take a closer look.
“See? No harm done.”
I leaned even further forward. I knew what I’d seen. There must be puncture marks. Nearly two inches of fangs had disappeared into his hand, but Eran was right. His skin was smooth, without even a red blotch visible.
“Careful,” he said, moving his hand away from me, the snake’s tail twisting in reaction and hitting the ground with a thump. “He might wake back up.”
“It’s asleep?” I asked in disbelief. “That thing’s asleep?”
“It’s not a thing, Magdalene,” he chastised. “It’s a serpent.”
“Well excuse me …,” I said, abruptly pausing. The name he’d used was like a trigger to my mind. “What did you just call me?”
He glanced up from the snake to casually reply, “Your name.”
“No, you said Magdalene.”
“Isn’t that your name?” He looked confused.
“Yes…but no…”
“Well, which is it?”
“Everyone calls me Maggie, so how did you know to call me by my full name?”
“Call it a good guess,” he replied, his head bowed toward the snake. Yet, I still caught a glimpse of the knowing smile to some private joke he harbored. He began to talk again and didn’t bother to fill me in. “Even if you won’t admit to it, you’re fortunate I was here after all. This particular serpent is a dangerous one. It’s called a Fierce Snake. The venom from a single bite can kill a hundred men.”
I glanced back at its now lethargic body and shuddered.
He seemed not to notice and continued explaining, “Thankfully, it is especially rare. In fact, it’s a long way from home. You’d more commonly find him in Taipei.”
“Taipei?” I repeated, awestruck by my sudden realization.
Hadn’t Sharar said he’d just returned from Taipei? I tried to remember back to our conversation, but it had been so wrought with emotion I couldn’t be sure if he’d said Taipei or somewhere else in Asia Pacific. At the realization that there was no way to be sure, I decided to disregard the thought entirely.
I watched Eran for a moment and couldn’t help but declare, “I saw that snake bite you.”
“And yet there is no evidence of it. Is there?” he asked. When I didn’t answer he persisted. “Magdalene? Is there?”
I ignored him and his effort to get me to concede, by changing the subject. “You don’t seem afraid.”
Eran looked up at me, amused. “No,” he replied, and left it simply at that.
“Do you…do you know much about snakes?”
He balked at me in mocking shock. “Are you starting a friendly conversation? I didn’t think you had it in you.”
I sighed. “Do you?”
After a light chuckle, he decided to answer. “I’ve certainly had my fair share of them. Serpents have been used for centuries to attack enemies. I’ve also seen them used in medicine, ceremonies…they’re an interesting species. Though, I would have to say, I’ve never had the pleasure of running across this particular one before.”
“Pleasure?” I scoffed.
“Let’s just say this serpent is more dangerous to you than it is to me.” He saw me open my mouth to argue and cut me off. “Before you contest, note that I am the one holding it.”
“Regardless-,” I started my rebuttal, to which he responded with an annoyed sigh; however, I never got the chance to finish.
Someone was calling my name.
“Mags! Over here!”
I followed Felix’s voice to where he sat in his unavoidable, lime green car.
“Do you need a ride? We were worried. It’s getting late…,” he called out the passenger window. With a pout, he added, “And I’m hungry!”
“Just a sec!” I called back.
“Besides, what are you doing out here all alone?” he asked, shrugging.
I turned back toward Eran, and sure enough, he was gone. There was nothing. Not even the snake was left behind.
“Come on, Mags!” Felix called out again, eagerly shaking.
I scanned the area, doing a full sweep, and I made note of something that would stay with me for several days afterwar
ds. There was no humanly way for someone to disappear that quickly from where I stood.
“COME ON!” shouted Felix.
I shook my head, perplexed. To Felix’s relief, I didn’t protest. I got on my bike, secured my helmet, started the engine, and followed him back to the house. After today’s unusual events, I decided I could use a good old-fashioned hamburger.
CHAPTER THREE: FIRST DAY
With just two weeks to go before the first day of school – which I’d dubbed The Penitentiary, to Felix and Rufus’s enjoyment – I spent the remaining days of my parole at The Square. There, I was kept busy with customers, but my thoughts could not be quelled and were, more often than not, focused on Eran.
I hadn’t seen him since the night he’d saved me from the snake, but I remembered him clearly in my mind – more specifically his hand, where the snake had bitten him and where there had been no resulting wound. That image kept creeping back to me because it was unthinkable that he had remained unharmed.
Then, there was the fact that he could move at lightning speed. Here one second, gone the next. He left no trail, no residual breeze, and no sound.
I had met more than my share of people with oddities on the road, but no one had been as inimitable as Eran. No one came close. His abilities were beyond anything I’d ever encountered before and – if I allowed my mind to register the thought that kept pestering me – they were not human traits. There was no one on earth who had impenetrable skin and moved as fast as he could.
I couldn’t make sense of him; maybe that is why he captivated me. He harbored a secret, something that gave him these abilities; a secret he evidently did not want to share with me. But, his secret wasn’t the only thing that kept me spellbound. The memory of him…the sound of his alluring accent…the image of his muscular, statuesque frame…the way he peered into my eyes…the engaging confidence in him, all of these attributes both thrilled me and irritated me at the same time. He was too perfect, and as much as I didn’t want to admit, I knew I could never match him.
