Reckoning

by Molly M. Hall

  Trembling, I turn to look behind me. The dark, shadowy figure has taken full form, his face concealed beneath the folds of a dark hood. Emanating red and black bands of color, he raises his head, turning slowly in our direction. Something cold and dark passes through me, and bile rises bitter and acrid in the back of my throat. Beneath his hood, his eyes glint, a horrible, silvery-blue.

  Aratus.

  He looks at me. Then at Rachel.

  No. No!

  I have to stop him.

  “Lovell!” I scream, my throat searing with pain.

  But it’s too late. Not even Lovell can help me now.

  Suddenly, Rachel begins trembling, her head shaking in spasmodic movements as she gasped for breath.

  “Rachel!” I grab her as she starts to fall to the floor. Without warning, she straightens and looks at me, her eyes glazed and unseeing.

  “Rachel! Get out! Run!”

  But she gazes past me, staring at Aratus. He extends a cloth-draped arm in her direction. She begins walking forward, her feet shuffling across the dusty floor.

  “NOOO!” I scream, reaching for her. A bruising blow sends me flying backwards, my back exploding with pain as I smash into the wall. I crumple to the floor, trying desperately to get air into my lungs. Crawling to my hands and knees, I look up, my eyes flashing with hatred. Aratus’ silvery eyes dart towards me. Bright lights, like tiny balls of energy, begin exploding around me, sending pieces of the decaying ceiling down on my head. I lurch to my feet, darting beneath the entrance to the old drawing room. Wrenching a piece of loose paneling from the wall, I turn and throw it, as hard as I can. Midair, it explodes into splinters.

  Rachel stops, looking around in panic. Her terrified eyes land on me. “Kat? Kat!” She screams, reaching for me before Aratus grabs her by the neck, drawing her into the folds of his cloak.

  Lunging forward, I grab Rachel’s arm, wrenching myself backwards as I try to pull her from his grip. A searing pain shoots up my arm, as though I’ve just thrust it into the flames of a raging fire. My fingers curl then splay outward in agony, releasing my hold on Rachel. Screaming in pain and rage, I reach out with my other arm. But a force like a hurricane wind hits me in the chest and I fall to the floor, sliding backwards with dizzying speed.

  More balls of light explode around me, blinding me with their electric intensity. I can hear and smell the ends of my hair sizzling. It’s like being in the middle of a lightning storm, jagged streaks of fire burning through everything around me. I hear glass shatter and duck to the side just as the front window bursts outward with a deafening crash.

  An enormous bang resounds from the kitchen. The swinging door flies off its hinges, landing with a thud and a cloud of dust in front of Aratus.

  “Kat?”

  Someone shouts my name. Lovell stands in the remains of the doorway. His black shirt is torn and bloody, one sleeve revealing a jagged cut down his arm. A dark trickle of blood runs down his forehead, Small pieces of something dark and feathery cling to his hand.

  “Please,” I plead. “Help her.”

  A deep, echoing sound emanates from deep within through the house, as though the walls are straining against their supports. Lovell moves towards me, and a glowing ball of light suddenly blasts from Aratus’ hand. Lovell leaps forward, and sweeps his hand through the air, sending the ball flying in the opposite direction. It explodes in a ball of flame against the dining room wall, igniting the dry timbers instantly. Flames lick up the wall, feeding greedily at the wood. Smoke begins filling the room and I cough, trying to struggle to my feet.

  My eyes are watering from the smoke and my ears are ringing from the explosive noise. I look at Aratus. I can’t be sure, but I think he laughs, a smirk of disdain crossing his face as he looks at Lovell. He begins glowing hideously, the red and black changing back to green as his figure begins to fold in on itself. Rachel lets out a whimper, and the eerie light begins enveloping her, too.

  What is happening? What is he doing?

  Then realization slams into me. He is disappearing. Taking Rachel with him.

  “No! You won’t take her!” I scream, unable to stand. Something horribly cold and heavy presses me to the floor. “Lovell! He’s taking her! Please…” I look at him through the smoke, my body wracked with sobs. He looks back at me, something close to pain and regret filling his eyes. The fire crackles and roars behind him, growing in intensity as it spreads across the wall. Flames begin licking at the ceiling, chunks of plaster dropping with fiery plops onto the wood floor.

  I grit my teeth and, groaning with pain, struggle to my knees. Aratus looks at me, then disappears, replaced by the glowing green orb I’d seen earlier. The orb rises and floats toward me, another ball of flame shooting from it. Lovell reacts instantly, sending the ball past me into the blackened fireplace to my left. I fall forward, choking and coughing, my body wracked with dry heaves as the smoke grows thicker. The orb sparks and hisses, before disappearing in a blinding flash of virid light.

  And Rachel is gone. Without a trace. Beautiful, brave, adventurous Rachel.

  Tears course down my face and I pound the floor, shaking my head in mute denial. Black smoke billows and thickens. I cough, my lungs searing with pain. I look across the room. The floorboards begin wavering and the edges of the room start to recede. I feel Lovell’s arms around me, lifting me from the floor, carrying me back down the hallway and through the kitchen. Stepping carefully around the debris, he kicks open the door, and suddenly, we’re outside. Away from the fire, away from the danger, away from the last place I’d seen Rachel.

  He sets me down gently on the overgrown grass. My lungs expand and contract, sucking in deep gulps of cool air.

  Sputtering and coughing, I try to stand. “Rachel. Oh, God, Lovell…”

  I can hear shouts and sirens in the distance, steadily growing louder. Smoke, thick and dark, rises above the house. It stings my nose and burns my eyes. The odor or burning wood is everywhere. In my hair, my clothes. And beneath it, the faint smell of sulphur, thick and cloying.

  Lovell places his hand on my cheek, turning my face to his. His lips move and I struggle to focus, to comprehend what he is saying. His words are rushed, as though he doesn’t have much time. I nod, overcome with shock and fatigue, horror and pain. And overwhelming grief. He glances over his shoulder. Then he lays his hand on the side of my neck. And I slip into oblivion.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

  Darkness. It envelops me like a glove, warm and secure, cool against my skin. I’m floating. Drifting in an inky black sea, the water so thick it’s almost like gel. I’m devoid of thought or emotion, oblivious to anything other than the comforting feel of the liquid surrounding me. I sigh and slide deeper into the blackness.

  Without warning, the darkness shifts, becomes lighter, less dense. I feel myself being pulled upward, the comfort of my cocoon slipping away. I can see a pinpoint of light far above, growing larger and larger. I watch it, entranced, as it slowly brightens the darkness around me. As if from a great distance, I hear the sound of voices, the words muffled and unintelligible. The light becomes brighter, the voices growing more distinct. Sudden fear grips me. I don’t want the light. Or the voices. I want the dark. My cocoon of silence. I’m safe here. Secure. With the light comes feeling, memories.

  I struggle, opening my mouth to cry out, but no sound emerges. I am mute. Unable to stop the force that is drawing me into it’s blinding radiance. Then, as suddenly as it began, it stops. I feel a soft touch on my forehead, like the brush of a gentle breeze lifting my bangs. And I’m falling, dropping back down, cushioned once again by the black gel. The light fades, the voices recede. Silence. I sigh, grateful.

  Darkness.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

  Sunlight spreads across my face. I can feel it, snaking past my cheekbone, working its way sinuously into my scalp. Warm and soothing. Savoring the sensation, I press the side of my face into the pillow, not yet ready to start the day. I’ve been dreaming
. About Rick. The feel of his lips, his body pressed against mine. A smile spreads across my face, and I snuggle deeper beneath the blankets, willing the dream to continue. But the dream recedes into the shadows.

  I sigh, wondering what time it is. I should get up and go for a run. Taking a deep breath, I stretch, reluctant to open my eyes. Pain slices through my shoulder, making me gasp, and my eyes fly open in surprise.

  I look around, uncomprehending, panic starting to twitch its greedy fingers against my consciousness. The room is pale blue, non-descript. A plain brown cupboard and an armchair covered in a tasteless brown print are against the wall directly ahead of me. The blinds are open at the window to my right, revealing nothing but an expanse of blue sky. To my left, a large door with a small window reveals an equally non-descript hallway. I lift my head and I can see what appears to be a nurse’s station, two women clad in blue scrubs leaning against the counter, making notes on a clipboard.

  Hospital. I’m in the hospital.

  But why?

  Horrible and painful realization slowly dawns on me, and I drop my head back down to the pillow. Hot tears well in my eyes. I turn my face back to the sun, and stare blankly at the sky. The door open and I force myself to look.

  “Kat? Kat! Oh, thank God!” My mom rushes forward, placing two trembling hands on my face. Bending forward, she presses her cheek against my head, her shoulders shaking with silent sobs.

  “It’s OK, Mom,” I say quietly. “I’m OK.”

  “It’s just…you wouldn’t wake up…and the doctors didn’t know why…” She lifts her tear-stained face and kisses my forehead. Straightening, she reaches down and grabs my hands, giving me a watery smile. “Are you OK? Does anything hurt?”

  I squeeze her hands. “No, no. I’m fine. Nothing hurts. Well, my shoulder, but it’s not a big deal.” Actually, my shoulder throbs with pain, but I don’t want to cause her any more worry. It’s obvious she’s been through enough.

  She nods, placing her hand gently against the bruised flesh. “The doctor said it was dislocated. But it should heal fine.” Pulling a tissue from her pocket, she wipes her cheeks. “Oh, God. I should get the nurse. Or the doctor. Let them know you’re awake! I’ll be right back.” Reluctantly releasing my hand, she darts to the door. Sticking her head around the corner, she says, “Linda! Linda! She’s awake!” She looks back at me anxiously, as if to make sure I haven’t mysteriously disappeared.

  I want to protest, tell her I’m fine. The last thing I want is to be checked out, gone over, tested. But I know it won’t do any good. And I can’t get out of here until I they do. So I remain silent.

  My dad walks in then, carrying two cups of steaming coffee.

  “Dad!” I say, overcome with surprise. “You’re here!” I don’t know why I’m so startled by his appearance, but the sight of him brings unexpected tears to my eyes.

  Relief and joy flood his face and he quickly sets aside the cups. Stepping to the bed, he says, “Where else would I be, Kit-Kat?”

  My bottom lip trembles. He hasn’t called me that in years. Hearing it now tears at my insides. I fight the urge to sob, to just curl up into a ball and cry on his shoulder like a little girl who’s fallen and scraped her knees, wanting him to make everything right. But he can’t. No one can.

  I swallow, keeping a tight rein on my emotions.

  He leans down and hugs me gently, careful not to put pressure on my shoulder. I hug, as best I can with one arm, breathing in the familiar, comforting smell of his aftershave.

  A white-coated doctor enters, and we break apart. He is followed by a nurse, who checks my pulse against her wristwatch. The doctor is young, with thick, dark blond hair and a deep tan. The kind of tan that says he spends every spare minute outdoors. Skiing, hiking, cycling. Whatever is in season. He asks me how I feel and if anything hurts. He takes my blood pressure, examines my eyes, asks if my head hurts. It takes an eternity. He eventually pronounces me well, but wants to keep me overnight for observation. I know he’s just being cautious, but I feel like a lab experiment. He pats my foot reassuringly, then leaves me with my family.

  The unanswered questions hang in the air, like a giant neon sign, impossible to ignore.

  My mom and dad exchange a glance, and I mentally brace myself, waiting for the first one to drop. My gut tenses. I’ve never lied to my parents and don’t want to start now. But what choice do I have? I closed my eyes, hoping whatever I say will sound plausible.

  There is a soft tap at the door and I exhale in relief. A reprieve, if only briefly. My mom turns, blocking my view of the door.

  “I checked on Alecto for you, Mrs. Matheson,” a familiar voice says. My pulse leaps. “She’s fine. And I washed up the dishes in the sink, and brought in the mail.”

  “Oh, thank you, Lovell. That was really nice. I’m so grateful.” She takes a deep breath. “And guess who else is doing fine?” She steps away from the bed, grinning widely.

  Lovell’s gaze lowers to me, his blue eyes glowing with intensity. “Kat?”

  An emotion I can’t identify sweeps across his features. Relief? Expectation? Caution? Or a combination of all three?

  He steps forward. “You’re awake.” There is something in his voice. A tone that says he’s not surprised. As if he’d already known. His fingertips brush against my hand, and goose bumps ripple up my arm.

  “Yeah,” I croak, clearing my throat, the muscles in my arm tingling. “In the hospital again. I seem to be making a habit of it.” I try to be light and self-deprecating, but I know the words sound forced and strained.

  He smiles. “I think you need to find a new hangout. I can definitely think of better places than this.” He looks into my eyes, and I have a sudden vision of floating across the water in a canoe, the sunlight impeding my view of the man next to me. The same dreamlike vision I had at the antiques store.

  You and I are connected in a way far more powerful than you can imagine.

  I look at him, wondering just how much he hasn’t told me.

  Biting my lip, I turn away, suddenly self-conscious. “God, I must look hideous.”

  “No. You look great. Really,” Lovell says, trying, and failing, to sound sincere. Using one arm, I push myself up straighter and run my fingers through my hair. The scent of smoke and ash wafts up my nose. I pull my hand away, assaulted by memories. Lovell continues to look at me, as if he is aware of my thoughts.

  “Lovell’s been great,” my mom says, placing her hand on his arm. “He’s been here every day, you know. Checking on you, making sure you’re doing OK. And he’s been taking care of the house. And Alecto.”

  I smile gratefully. “Thank you. That means a lot.” Something in the back of my brain belatedly picks up on what my mom just said. Something about it isn’t right. But my brain is too fuzzy. I can’t grasp it.

  Lovell shrugs and steps to the window as if uncomfortable with the praise. “It was no big deal. I’m just glad I was able to help.”

  My mom looks at him, smiling tremulously. “We owe him…a great deal.” Her voice cracks and tears fill her eyes. “More than we can ever hope to repay.” She wipes at her cheeks.

  I glance at Lovell, my mind reeling with questions, but he keeps his gaze fixed on the parking lot outside, arms crossed on his chest. Reaching for my mom’s hand, I squeeze it tightly.

  Clearing her throat, Mom looks up and smiles. “He’s not the only visitor you’ve had, you know. Rick has been here checking on you every day, too.”

  “Really?” A rush of happiness sweeps over me. Rick has been here. Every day. Lovell shifted by the window.

  The thing that my brain has been feebly grappling with suddenly clicks into place. “Wait a minute. You said every day? How long have I been here, anyway?”

  My mom hesitates before answering. “Five days.”

  “Five days? You’re joking, right?” How could I have lost five days? And not have any memory of it? “Was I like, unconscious, or in a coma, or something?”

  Dad
shakes his head. “No, not really. It was just like you were asleep. I mean, really, deeply, asleep. The doctors didn’t know what to make of it. You were fine in every way – physically, neurologically – it was just that your body didn’t want to wake up. Or your mind.”

  “Dr. Klaasen thinks it was probably just a reaction to shock,” my mom says. “And that you would wake up when you were ready.”

  I stare at her in disbelief. I can feel Lovell’s gaze on me, but I ignore it, struggling to make sense of the fact that I’ve lost five days – nearly an entire week – of my life. A dim memory floats at the back of my mind. Something to do with water. And darkness. My gaze shifts to Lovell, but he looks away, adjusting the rolled up sleeves of his shirt.

  “I can’t believe it,” I murmur. “It was just last night…” I stop, not wanting to say it. Not wanting to relive it.

  My mom clears her throat hesitantly, as if unsure how to proceed. Glancing at my dad, she asks, “Kat, honey, how much do you remember?”

  How much do I remember? As if I can forget any of it. It is all there. Every detail. In vibrant, living colors, replaying in a continuous loop through my head.

  “I remember…” I start to say, just as Lovell moves from the window to the end of the bed. He shakes his head, almost imperceptibly, and looks at me closely, his eyes giving me unspoken instruction.

  “…walking back from the park with Rachel,” I finish slowly, hoping that sounds better to them than it does to me. I look at Lovell, hoping for clues, but he just smiles. I know I’m missing something. But what? “Then we were going to go back to the house to just hang out for a while before she had to go home.” Remembering the little pink box with the tiny red bow, a tear rolls down my cheek. “She made some earrings for me.”

  Lovell moves forward, brushing his hand across my arm. Reaching for a chair, he sits down, resting his elbows on his knees.

  The four walls of the hospital room fade and I’m back in the house. Staring at the spot where Rachel had just stood. The glow of neon green. Aratus’ menacing glare. The noise and explosions. Lovell carrying me outside. The rushed conversation. The wailing of sirens. The crackle of flames. Shaking with terror. Nodding in anguished agreement. Then Lovell’s hand on my neck. And darkness.