“What’s the big deal? Tonight is going to be great. Blue Nouveau is playing. You love them.” Caleb is perfectly calm and it’s pissing me off.
“I know, and I don’t care!”
“What’s up with you?” Jared asks with more than a hint of annoyance.
I’m trying not to panic, but we haven’t turned around and I’m desperately trying to think of something to tell them that; A — doesn’t sound insane, like, the place is haunted and I see visions that scare the hell out of me, B — Mason the maniac may try to kill me or worse or, C — I don’t want to face Lance. And reason C is because of Jared and the band’s best interest. I want to scream in Jared’s face. It’s all too much so I explode in a way that is very uncharacteristic, but is probably something the guys will put down to me being an emotional female. “Let me out right now! I’ll hitchhike back to town.”
Jared gives me an impatient and disbelieving look.
How very patronizing of him. My nostrils flare with rage. “Take me back to work then and I’ll find another ride,” I say through clenched teeth.
We’re close to the turn off the highway and my blood boils at the thought — I’m just that much closer to Mason.
Following my line of thought, Jared says. “We’re almost there.” He has that stubborn set to his jaw. It is the same look my father used to get when his mind was made up about something, stubborn as a ten ton boulder. “Lance is doing us a huge favor by letting us open up for Blue Nouveau tonight. It makes us look bad to be late. This is our big break Jules, why can’t you be happy for us?”
“I am happy for you!”
“Sounds like it!” He mocks my tone in a near perfect imitation.
I narrow my eyes and set my own jaw. “Caleb, let me out right now.”
I see his eyes look at me in the mirror, uncertain, but then they end up settling on Jared. “She won’t curse me or anything will she?” he jokes.
“Ha. Ha,” I say from the back seat. I don’t find it amusing. I have stupid Ashley to thank for the rumors. The animosity started when I could see straight through her sickeningly sweet mask toward me to get closer to Jared. I refused to be her mediator. They ended up dating anyway. When Jared got sick of the relationship and broke up with her, she started telling everyone the most ridiculous things about me, I’m a witch, and I cursed their relationship because I don’t like her. She even told people I practice black magic in my basement. We don’t even have a basement. It was so immature I found it funny at first, but sometimes it gets annoying, like now, and when I get funny looks and odd question about witches and magic. My grandmother, being who she is, doesn’t help the rumors either.
I realize I might have an advantage over Caleb. “If I promise not to, will you turn the van around?”
“No,” Jared answers for him.
Jared speaks to Caleb. “She’s coming with us. Don’t worry about her.”
Caleb doesn’t slow down or look at me again.
Jared directs his next words to me. “Tonight is going to be awesome. Thank me later.”
If looks could kill then daggers would be shooting out of my eyeballs and into Jared’s smug face.
I contemplate pulling the “female problem” card, or tears. It’s low down and dirty but very effective on most males. Men are so freaked by the idea of a monthly cycle they’ll do anything not to hear about it. Unfortunately, I’m not that sort of person, so I pout like a child and think about how far a walk it is back to my car. I won’t hitchhike; it’s a rule of mine and Jared knew that was an empty threat. I wanted to go for a walk anyway, right? I wouldn’t have chosen to walk along the highway, but beggars couldn’t be choosers.
The van slows for the turn. This is my chance, get out here and hoof it back, even if it takes all night. Jared’s on a roll, picking up on my vibes again.
“You can’t walk back to town. The highway’s too dangerous. The sun’s blinding and you’ll get hit by a car.”
The daggers in my eyes turn to machine guns. All I can think is how preferable getting mangled by a car sounds to facing Mason. I don’t say it out loud.
Jared gives me an endearing soft smile that glows from his wide mouth to his baby browns. I know why so many girls fall for him. It’s more than his rogue bad boy chiseled good looks; he uses his tone of voice and his expressive eyes to his advantage, to manipulate and conquer. He knows he’s good at it, and so do I. Punk.
He says to me in his ‘oh so charming’ tone, “You know I need you to keep me out of trouble, big sister.”
I roll my eyes at him. “Whatever. I’m not going to babysit you forever.”
“I might grow up someday,” he concedes. Then he winks at me and shakes his head and then his whole body resembling a dog shaking off water. “No way, screw that. I’ll never grow up.” He turns the music up again, loud. He beats the dash, the door panel, and his thigh with an open hand, beating out the rhythm of his own private tune and then he finishes by slugging Caleb on the arm.
“Hey!” Caleb warns, but they are both smiling like village idiots.
I roll my eyes again and look ahead. We drive along the dirt road through the forest and I wonder if I’m heading straight toward a grim fate. Do I believe in fate? Are things destined to happen? Or are you just in the wrong place at the right time? Or the right place at the wrong time? Can someone’s fate be changed? If something is meant to happen and a person changes their mind at the last second, changing the course of their actions, or reactions, wouldn’t that change their fate? It had to. No, I don’t believe in destiny or fate. There are too many possibilities, everything can change is the space of a heartbeat. I can only take each breath as it comes and deal with each moment as it presents itself, and that’s exactly what I’ll have to do tonight.
Chapter Twelve: Escape
Nathaniel
I think of Juliana before I move to her, calling her to my mind. The picture forms before I complete the thought. Her dark hair frames her pale face, and those green eyes have torn a hole in my previously unbendable morals. Even in my vision of her I can’t continue to look into those eyes, knowing what she’s doing to me. It’s hard to face the truth but I can feel the shields I’ve created as coping mechanisms for handling this afterlife crack and fall to pieces around my feet. I let myself drift over the rest of the image, the narrow bridge of her nose between high flushed cheeks, the dent in the center of her upper lip and the curve of her lower one. My picture halts on Juliana’s lips, wide, soft, and pink. They look so real I almost reach up to run a finger across... and then I remember I need to go to her. An instant later and I am standing in the shade of a stone wall looking around for the green eyed, black haired vixen named Juliana Crowson.
Two familiar shapes, named Jared and Caleb, drive past me in the maroon minivan. I look over my shoulder taking in the building behind me, and it’s unmistakable. I’m back at Castle Hill. But where is she? I follow the vehicle with my eyes and watch as it parks next to the stage entrance door. As Jared and Caleb step out of the front seats I see her. She’s slouched down in the back and apparently isn’t getting out of the van.
For the moment I keep my distance, watching as the four band members unload their equipment. I can see her now and I know she’s safe, but what’s she doing? Why did she return to this place? As I contemplate how much time may have passed since I left her to go rest, the talk about returning for a party comes back to me. So if we’re back at Castle Hill and Mostly Mayhem is about to play, I estimate not even a full day has passed. Good, twenty or so hours, and she appears to be whole and undamaged.
The sun is about to fall over the horizon. In its wake, streaks of gold clouds color the sky. Dusk used to be my favorite time of the day, when I walked the earth and things like the weather and the seasons mattered. I watch the sun set now and the colors still have their effect on me but the warmth of the day passing and the smells of the earth are missing. It’s different now. It doesn’t matter if it’s light or dark outside. I’m al
ways the same, waiting, watching, counseling, moving on to the next case and yet never really moving.
Soon it’ll be night and what will this night bring? Could these be Juliana’s last hours as a living, breathing person? Her life has purpose. I can feel it in my core. I know her life will end, like everyone else’s does, but why so soon? This time everything feels different. Why is the thought of Juliana’s demise so mind numbingly incomprehensible? Why does her presence shred my resolve into nothing? I want to punch myself out of frustration. I help people pass on, it’s what I do. I have to keep reminding myself of this fact, like a skipping record playing over and over in my thoughts. My purpose is to help her in the afterlife.
The reminder deflates me. It’s a strange calling, full of mixed reactions from my clients and after every case I’m left with mixed feelings of my own. My clients pass on and I’m left behind in a kind of limbo. That’s what my death brought me, limbo and uncertainty. I help others die and move on but I’m not able to move on myself. I joined the working dead. It’s not what I’d envisioned for myself. Not that I ever gave much thought to what happens after you die. At twenty-two I never considered dying at all. I felt as if my life was just starting and then, well, you get what you get. People never ask for disease or poverty and so many people live with those things every day. Am I presumptuous to think I should’ve been granted some choice in how I spend my afterlife? I have to make the most out of what I’ve been given, or at least learn to deal with it.
I went too far last night, carrying her away like some hero. I’m no hero. It’s stupidity that makes me react, nothing more. I can’t interfere in her life again. The consequences can be unimaginable. I could be causing her more harm than good and that’s inexcusable. And for me? I don’t care what happens to me. Marcus, my mentor, has only ever said, “The call to pass comes for everyone. We do not interrupt the ebb and flow of nature. It’s not done. Ever.”
I’ve interrupted nature and I don’t know what will happen. I’m obviously not dealing with this case very well, but how am I going to hold back? Last night I felt Juliana’s heart beating, her blood flowing, and her lungs breathing. She spoke to me as if I was like her. She looked at me with those eyes and it took everything in me not to confess all that I know. She is sculpted of life. Every cell in her body radiates the perfection of creation. How am I supposed to watch that life be torn away from her? I can’t do it. She’s eclipsed me, blocking out all light of reason.
Tonight I’ll keep my distance from her. Then maybe, I’ll be able to stop myself from helping her — when her time comes. Will a matter of a few feet really make any difference? At this point, I have to try something.
∞
Juliana
Caleb drives around Castle Hill to the stage entrance. The west wall of “the church” with its brilliant stained glass windows looms up next to us. I slump down farther on the cushy seat, more or less hiding, and contemplate staying in the van the entire night. Sleeping at work would have been a hundred times better than this.
Not a half second after the engine stops, Jared and Caleb are out of the minivan. I hear mumbled greetings but don’t look. It sounds like Derrick and Dan. Someone opens the back of the van and I can hear and feel the instruments being lifted out.
“Lance says everything’s ready for us. Blue Nouveau plays at ten so we have to have all our gear out of the way by nine-thirty,” Derrick says. His voice is painfully recognizable. He sounds like he eats chainsaws before he talks.
“Cool,” Jared says. I hear a large case slide across the carpet in the back. Footsteps pad away across the stone pavers followed by a squeaking door and a click of the latch.
I stare at the stone wall beside the van. Every piece of stone fits perfectly snuggled next to its neighbor. It reminds me of how I fit perfectly snuggled up against Nathan’s chest, two stones in a wall of misfortune. My misfortune, not his. He had been stoic and quiet as I tried to hold it together not a hundred yards from here. Here, I realize. We had been here last night. Could he be here now, staying on the property? He’d said he was visiting. I could ask Lance about him, I tell myself, but instantly I make a firm decision to avoid that scenario. No one likes to be asked about their friend by someone looking for a date. It makes the person feel used. I should know. Countless girls have used me to find out information about my brother.
The door reopens with the same squeaky hinge and I sneak a peek out of the window looking for the tall, lean, brown haired Nathan. It isn’t him. Jared and Derrick walk toward the van talking about tonight’s set list. I turn back around in the seat and hope Jared has forgotten me.
“No, we should play ‘Modest Muse’ and then close with ‘Circles Past Us’,” Derrick says.
“Sounds sweet. Tell Caleb and Dan what we’re doing,” Jared says back.
My heel bounces on the floor from restrained anxiety. I think they’re close to finishing the unloading and then I can relax and stretch out. I feel childish for hiding, but in the moment it’s the best I can do.
I wait anxiously for silence to return but then the side door slides open, startling me. Jared looks me over with a blank expression. “What’re you doing?”
“Nothing,” I say too quickly then I feel even more childish for wanting to hide my hiding from him.
Jared raises one skeptical brow at me and says, “You look fine. Come out.”
“No thanks. I’m tired.” I fake a yawn and then peer down at my worn jeans and stained T-shirt. Jared thinks I don’t want to come inside because of the way I look. That brings up two instant thoughts. One, I look horrendous for him to mention it, and two I wish that was all I had to worry about. He’s so clueless.
“Hey, I bet,” he speaks like he’s talking to an idiot, “you’ll be able to get something inside that has caffeine in it. Doesn’t that sound snazzy?”
“Shut up and leave me alone.” I avert my gaze from his condescending face.
To my surprise, he does, but he leaves the door wide open. I can hear his retreating steps and then the next thing I hear makes me cringe and sink even father down on the seat.
“Hey, Jared, how’s it going?” It’s Lance. They sound perilously close to the minivan.
“Mind blowingly awesome! We’re gonna tear up the stage tonight.”
“Great. I’m serious about signing you guys. Make sure to schedule something with Yvette for next week. We’ll work up a contract. Sound good?”
“Next week’s perfect.”
“Fantastic. Hey, did Jules come with you?”
Oh crap! I will Jared to keep his mouth shut for once in his life.
“Yep. She’s in the van.”
I can hear the humor in his tone. Traitor! He’s so dead. I flush with panic at the sound of approaching footsteps.
I fling myself forward reaching for a shoe and bash my head into the corner of the console. I grunt in pain, and then I pretend I’m tying my shoelace as Lance appears next to the open door. I turn my head and try to appear as normal as possible and not wince at the dull ache pulsing across my forehead.
“Comment ça va jeune femme avec les yeux vert belle?” he asks in quick, perfect French catching me off guard, which is what I suspect he means to do.
I manage to translate some of what he just said, having taken two years of French in high school. The conversion is slow in my mind though. I sit up and eye him. He’s smiling his usual good natured smile. ‘How are you young woman?’ was the easy part, then something about ‘green beautiful’. My eyes, great. That makes me even more self-conscious, but I answer out of politeness.
“Je suis ici.” I am here. Straightforward and true.
He doesn’t sound put off as he continues. “Es-tu bien?” He points at his forehead but is staring at mine.
Purple is such an unflattering color for me. I rub my aching forehead as much for the pain as to hide my embarrassment. “Er, pal mal, merci.”
“Ah,” he switches to English, “Not bad. I can accept that. Do you
speak French often?”
“Almost never.”
“So it’s safe for me to assume if I compliment you in French you’ll only understand bits and pieces of what I say.”
“Apparently so.”
“Good, then you won’t shy away from them so easily.”
“I wouldn’t bet on it. And, you just told me what you’ll be doing.”
“I guess I just gave myself away, didn’t I?” He gives me a sheepish look.
“You did.”
“Oh well,” he says resigned. “I guess I’ll just have to tell you in English how beautiful your eyes are.” He has one hand on his chest as if I have touched his heart. He looks away like he is the one who is embarrassed now.
His face is open and eager and it’s sort of endearing, but I’m still not falling for it the way I think he wants me to. He reminds me of the members of the band, they’re like goofy step-brothers to me, and nothing more. I hope he realizes soon that his flirting is getting him nowhere.
I stare at worn gray carpet under my blue tennis shoes and feel a bit uncomfortable in the sudden silence but Lance is quick to break it.
He clasps his hands together with a muffled thwap. “So, would you like to come inside or are we moving the party out here? The A list is in the Ford minivan tonight. It’s kind of high school desperate. I like it.”
He isn’t serious, is he? Surely he’s not going to sit in the van with me if I won’t come inside. He’s the host of the party, for crying out loud. “Don’t you have guests to, umm…?” I try to find the right words. “Take care of?”
“What do you think I’m doing right now?”
“Oh,” I say stupidly, as Lance climbs in and sits down next to me. He seems to take up the entire space between me and the door. I try not to panic about losing my escape route. He stretches an arm out across the back of the seat looking a little too comfortable.
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