"Oh Jane, there is one more thing you could help me with."
"Anything." She shouted.
"I didn't exactly tell anyone at school that I was going home today. Can you cover for me?" I asked.
"Absolutely, I'll just tell the principal that you and Ren Alden should be given detention since he made you sick." She responded sarcastically, choking back her laughter.
"Last time I tell you anything!" I spat childishly and slammed the bathroom door.
5
That night I found myself in Moco and it was hot. The kind of hot that makes you feel like an ant under a magnifying glass with air so humid you’d rather drink it than breathe. I was in the city park standing by the fountain that was abloom with lush floating water lilies. Blue iridescent dragonflies danced between the petals. Hazy afternoon light snuck through the canopy of live oaks. A thick breeze stirred the Spanish moss draping from the expansive tangle of branches above.
The inviting sound of the fountain drew me to the shower of water spilling from the hand of a mermaid sculpture. I extended my hand, searching for relief from the steamy heat. I was surprised. I’d expected to see a younger self, since I hadn’t been to the park since I was a child. But the hand in the water had my sixteen-year-old fingers complete with chipped blue nail polish.
As the water flowed over my hand, I noticed it was oddly stained, like iced tea. As I stared at the water, I had the creepy sensation that I was being watched. I spun around to find a tall graceful woman lounging at the opposite end of the fountain. At once I recognized her but in my dream state could not recall where I’d seen her. Her long hair was a brilliant shade of red and her skin was pale as a china teacup. Her eyes made me cringe. I’d felt that amber gaze on me before and they made me squirm in my own skin.
“Hello, Eliza. My, haven’t you grown.” She said silkily.
Suddenly the air around me felt heavier. I struggled to draw in a breath.
There was a splash in the fountain. When I turned, I was face to face with a nearly identical woman emerging from the water. Her long red hair hung in wet ropes around her face and she was smiling, far too wide for my liking. I took a step back and bumped into something cold and wet.
“Why, Eliza, did she frighten you?” Said a voice eerily similar to the first. A third red haired woman loomed over me.
Panic seized me as I gazed around at the glittering amber eyes sucking at me like leeches. The women began to laugh, a high screeching sound so loud it was like they were inside my head. They surrounded me.
I searched for an opening to run but my feet were rooted to the ground.
The woman in the water reached out menacingly, her long white hands dripping. I winced, shrinking away from her and clenched my eyes shut. With every fiber of my being I willed myself out of the dream.
Thunder cracked on my alarm clock.
I bolted awake my heart racing and sucked in a deep breath to calm myself. My mind spun churning through the details of the dream, trying desperately to make sense of it. Within seconds it came to me.
“Narissa.” My voice emerged a groggy whisper.
I had seen one of the women before. The night my mother disappeared in the park. What was she doing in my dreams?
I leapt out of bed propelled by a swell of nervous energy and headed for the bathroom. As I brushed my teeth, I stared at my reflection.
The eyes staring back at me were a mix of curiosity and fear. The musky sweet scent of peat hung in the air around me, the smell of the swamp. I set my toothbrush down and traced the lines of my face studying the girl in the mirror.
My head spun with thoughts of my mother, Cora, Ren Alden’s face, his touch, and mysterious slivers of memories still hidden, like secrets whispered too low for me to hear, whispers that seemed to grow louder by the minute.
Beyond the bathroom door, I heard Jane rustling around in the kitchen.
"Making anything special?" I shouted out to her, knowing she had probably just become mobile.
"Coffee... How does coffee sound to you? It's sounds pretty good to me right now." She yelled down the hallway.
I pinched my eyes shut and took a few deep breaths, mentally preparing myself for the day ahead, then shuffled out of the bathroom back into my bedroom to get dressed. By the time I reached the kitchen, Jane had a pan of scrambled eggs going and bread in the toaster.
"How'd you sleep after the heavy conversation last night?" She asked wryly.
"Ok, I guess.” I mumbled remembering how I’d ended our conversation the night before.
“Hey, can you write that note for me? You know about the whole leaving school thing?" I asked with an apologetic smile, quickly changing the subject.
"Sure, babe." She said agreeably and wandered over to search her desk drawer for appropriate supplies.
While she wrote, I took the liberty of dishing up our plates and gulping down a cup of juice. After Jane handed me the note, she settled into a chair and flipped through the paper. Rain softly pattered on the wall of windows lining the living room. The predictability of our morning routine was calming and I began to feel more confident that I would make it through the day without another incident.
“Have you come up with a special for tonight?” I asked.
Jane used to go to market at the crack of dawn for Viva herself but eventually relinquished that duty to a trusted sous chef.
"Frank said the salmon was really good this morning so I'm thinking about doing salmon with polenta. Not sure about sides yet." She offered distractedly.
"Yum, that sounds great. I'll look forward to dinner." I tried to sound enthusiastic. I slid off the barstool, stacked my dishes in the washer, and wandered into the living room to retrieve my school bag.
“Well, I better get going. Thanks for the note, Jane. Love you much.” I said quickly as I snatched a black raincoat and umbrella from the coat rack.
"Love you too. Call me if you need anything. Promise? And… good luck with the boy." Jane winked mischievously at me.
"Promise." I grumbled and dashed out the door.
The rain was persistent but not heavy enough to ask Jane for a ride. It slowed my pace, providing time to think and breathe. The pungent smell of rain soaked earth penetrated my lungs. The wind splattered my face with cold droplets. A strong gust echoed in my ears, join us. My shoulders shook at the sound, though I knew it had to be in my head. I quickened my pace.
Reaching the high school entrance, I pushed the big glass entry doors open, crossed the atrium and headed directly toward the main office. The office was jammed with kids when I arrived. By the time I reached Mrs. Brennan, the office administrator, the bell signaling the commencement of homeroom had come and gone.
“Good morning, Mrs. Brennan. I got sick yesterday and had to leave school but I didn’t have a chance to let anyone know. I brought a note from my aunt.” I said quickly and shoved the note across her desk.
Mrs. Brennan was a gentle, plump, older lady, probably too forgiving for her professional role. “Eliza, I hope you’re feeling better, you certainly look well. How is your aunt Jane? I haven’t seen her in ages. I hear the restaurant is still coming along nicely.” Mrs. Brennan said, genuinely interested.
“Jane’s doing great. I’ll let her know you asked. Do I need to find Mrs. Hildebrand to explain why I wasn’t in homeroom? I think I need to go to first period now.” Not sure of the protocol, I wanted to make sure I wasn’t late again.
“Oh, don’t worry about that. I’ll let Mrs. Hildebrand know what happened. Off you go now.” With a wink, Mrs. Brennan dismissed me.
The instant I arrived at school my stomach started doing flip-flops as I worried about seeing Ren again. But as it turned out, my morning classes flew by uneventfully. I had ignored several calls the night before from both Bryn and Pete. When Bryn finally caught up with me in the hall between classes, she grilled me mercilessly on my missing-in-action status. We had been friends for so long, she could tell if I was hiding something from her. Wh
en I gave her my bogus excuse of extreme nausea, she frowned suspiciously but didn’t push the issue.
At lunch, Pete accepted my excuse without question. Either he just assumed I would tell him the truth or he didn’t care to know anything I didn’t want to tell him. Either way, as he launched into planning the logistics for our road trip to Providence on Friday evening, I was grateful the subject had effectively blown over.
The day had progressed so smoothly that I was taken off-guard when I detected a prickly jolt like an electrical shock the moment I crossed the threshold into history class. When the initial sting subsided it left a pleasant vibration, which started in my toes and proceeded to race through the rest of my body.
At once, I knew that Ren was present. My eyes half scanned the room before settling on him seated in the far column of desks near the windows. As if I’d called his name, he turned and stared right at me. He raised an eyebrow playfully and smiled.
I smiled mechanically in response then cast my gaze to the ground, in part out of shyness and because I needed to walk forward and didn’t trust my feet to navigate the terrain. I chose a seat toward the back of the room, several rows away from Ren, safely positioned so that he would have to turn around if he wanted to look at me. I wanted an opportunity to observe him without feeling watched myself.
Ren didn’t turn to find me at first but just before Mr. Palmer began class he glanced over his shoulder. I took a deep breath and met his gaze with a challenging glare. His dark eyes softened. The confidence I’d seen before was gone. He looked nervous.
“Ok people, take your seats.” Mr. Palmer announced.
Ren quickly turned his gaze to the front of the class.
“Good afternoon, all. Today we will be resuming our discussion about Africa.” Mr. Palmer accentuated the continent with gusto.
“And… we have a treat. Ren Alden, our new friend, has brought in something of his from Africa to share.” Mr. Palmer said with a nod in Ren’s direction.
Ren nodded back, his lips pressed tight into a shy smile.
Mr. Palmer crossed the room and leaned behind his desk. When he stood back up, he held a small burlap bag in his hands.
“This…” He said. Shoving both hands deep into the bag, he gave the bag a little shake letting the fabric fall away from the object in his hands. Mr. Palmer’s fingers were wrapped around a brown mottled ball that looked like a dried mudpie with legs.
“Is an African Boli. It may not look like much but it is an incredibly sacred object to the Bamana people, who live in Mali.” Mr. Palmer said, turning the sculpture around in his hands for all of us to see.
“Boli’s are made of animal bones, vegetables, honey, mud and even blood. The Bamana say that the boli helps them control the natural life force. They use the boli for spiritual purposes and say it wards off evil. Ren, where did you get this?” He asked curiously.
“It was a gift…from a friend.” Ren replied solemnly.
As I stared at the boli, my vision blurred. A wave of heat rolled over me, and I felt weak. I brought my hands to my head and tried to breathe evenly.
“This is a sacred object. It’s surprising that it came into your possession, Ren.” Mr. Palmer said but the sound of his voice was faint as if it was reaching me through a long tunnel.
Suddenly, light flashed behind my eyes blotting out the classroom.
Fire.
Then it was gone and the classroom was back. Mr. Palmer’s mouth moved but I could no longer hear his voice at all. The scene in the room darkened like an overhead light short-circuiting.
Flash.
Fire again. Orange and yellow flames blazed against a night sky.
A chorus of voices chanted around me. Drums beat. Dark faces smeared with red surrounded me, white teeth flashed in the firelight as they sang. Smoke, thick and fragrant seeped into my nose and mouth.
A small wrinkled man sat next to me. His weathered hands roved around a ball in his lap. He dipped his hand into a bowl next to him and his fingers came up dripping with a thick red liquid. Blood?
He smeared the blood on the ball and rubbed furiously over its surface. Then he stopped and lifted his face staring right at me. His eyes grew so wide that the whites of them swam around black irises. His mouth dropped open and he shouted,
“Nyama!”
I brought my hands to my face and squeezed my eyes shut.
“Eliza? Eliza!” Mr. Palmer’s voice cut through the chanting, the chanting fell silent.
I looked up. Twenty pairs of familiar eyes were staring at me.
“Are you feeling alright, Eliza?” Mr. Palmer asked alarmed.
My gaze shifted automatically in Ren’s direction. A slight smile hung on his lips. He’d expected this.
The nerve. My blood bubbled.
“No… I think I’m getting sick. I’d like to go to the nurse’s office, if that’s ok.” I said and swiped my arm across my desk pushing my notepad and pen into my bag before waiting for Mr. Palmer’s response.
“Of course. I hope you feel better soon.” Mr. Palmer said kindly.
I stood and stumbled out of the room, the thick scent of burning wood lingering in my nose and mouth.
* * *
After convincing the nurse that I needed to go home, I sped across the school parking lot and headed towards the shore. I needed fresh air and lots of it.
Cool wind blew in gusts off the water, whitecaps rippled along the surface. I climbed onto a large boulder and watched the bubbling tide fan across the beach.
What was happening to me? I thought pitifully. The moment I’d arrived in Port Rune so many years ago, my life changed. I felt different. It was as if I’d boarded a life raft that was slowly drifting away from a sinking ship. The longer I stayed in Port Rune with Jane, the further I drifted from the worry and pain of my mother’s disappearance. But now, my security was disintegrating. Every time I was in the vicinity of Ren I lost control and worse, the mess of unanswered questions about my life was coming after me like a man-eating shark. Who was Ren Alden to have that power?
My moment of solitude was broken by a voice.
“Eliza? Is that you down there?”
I turned toward the voice and cringed.
Ren scrambled down the rocky path. His eyes bobbed up and down between the footpath and me.
As leery as I was of him, I couldn’t deny the spark of anticipation I felt when he said my name. My chest tightened as the distance closed between us. The tingling vibrations I always felt in his presence intensified as he neared my spot on the rock. When he finally reached me, he climbed up a neighboring boulder, planting himself within arm’s length.
His cheeks were flushed and he panted, catching his breath.
My heart beat like a hummingbird.
“What are you doing here?” I asked.
He sat with his arms flung around his knees and stared out at the sea. “Wondering…if you’re feeling better?” He asked unconvincingly.
His gaze faltered. For the first time I noticed how thick his eyelashes were as they fanned over his cheeks.
Despite his charm, I had to keep my guard up. I squinted defensively at him.
“Who are you? Really?” I asked evenly, searching his eyes.
Ren flushed deeper and broke my gaze to stare at his feet before speaking. When he lifted it, bold confidence had returned. “I’m… at least I think… I am your pharos.”
At that I rolled my eyes and gritted my teeth. Everything dark about my past was rising to the surface, like bodies from a sunken ship and the mysterious catalyst, Ren Alden, sounded as crazy as I felt.
“Look, I don’t know what a pharos is but whatever it is you’re doing… I want you to stop.” I said my voice shaking.
Ren sighed and shifted uncomfortably on his boulder. He looked out at the ocean in silence.
With every wave that hit the beach, I grew more concerned.
His silence spoke more than any words he could say. It meant I wasn’t wrong to believe he h
ad uncovered something in me. Or rather, unleashed something on me. It meant he knew he was affecting me. And he knew it was unpleasant.
The tumult of emotions I’d felt over the last twenty-four hours anger, fear, attraction battled each other to exhaustion until finally, I came to the conclusion that he wasn’t going to apologize. Despite that, I was still drawn to him.
“So, if you’re not going to stop, are you going to tell me why?” I asked defiantly.
Ren’s head snapped around.
“You think I can control it? Look, Eliza, I’m sorry but I can’t.” He said defensively.
Then his gaze fell to his lap and he pressed his lips together hard.
“I’m sorry the boli upset you. I only brought it to class because I knew it would get your attention. I thought it would help you understand.” He said remorsefully.
I shook my head in disbelief.
“Ren, I don’t even know what happened back there except that I totally lost touch with reality. Every time I see you, I feel like I’m out of control, like I’m going crazy. How is that supposed to help me?” I sputtered angrily.
Ren’s eyes flared. He ran his hands through his hair sending it in all different directions and growled with frustration.
“Because the boli is magic, in its most primal form. If anything could open your eyes, it would be that.” He argued.
He flushed and his dark eyes flashed bright like they’d been set on fire. They drew me in like a moth.
Suddenly Cora’s face popped into my head. I felt her hands on me. I blinked recalling the dust from her fingertips, falling on my eyelashes.
“What is a pharos?” I asked, my voice quivering.
Ren grimaced again and looked hard at me, like he was trying to anticipate my reaction to his unspoken words.
“A guide… for a new…witch.” He said carefully, though the word launched off his tongue like a firecracker.
The broken shards that were my life began to shuffle and stick together. I thought of Cora, marking our house in Moco, the red dust spilling before our door and my mother’s face trapped beneath the glassy swamp water. I felt Cora’s hands on me. I heard her words.
Eliza's Shadow Page 4
