Evanescent

by Carlyle Labuschagne

  “The water helps you.” His face was concealed in shadow, but in his voice there was a slight smile.

  I nodded. “Perhaps.”

  He handed me the bag containing my mother’s journals.

  “You went back for it,” I said.

  The longer he stayed and the more we touched, the more I felt like I was a living creature – human even. His warmth, his smell, his touch kept the Shadow at bay. Smells of crisp salty ocean, the breeze and sounds of horses from the village stables over the ocean’s silent whispers, the smell of them, of leaves, of him, swirled around in thick tufts of reassurance. He gave me wings to lift me from the devastating world that had engulfed me in its dark claws, all at a mere touch as he strapped my bag over my shoulders. He didn’t have to say a word, because his eyes said it all. One day, everything would be revealed. As long as we were together, we were each other’s antidote and strength.

  I awoke the next morning to the thundering drone of loud snoring. Looking up and right into Greg’s face as he lay half slumped on Arriana’s blue sofa, I poked him on his cheek with an extended finger, the snoring almost immediately stopped as I let out a soft groan. I felt like I hadn’t slept in ages, only to be woken by snoring! I smiled, pleased about granting myself a few more seconds of being curled up in Troy’s blissfully strong arms, with only a thin, blue blanket covering our legs in front of a fireless fireplace. Delightfully unaware his eyes were open, I stared at his perfect face and traced my fingers over his full, luscious lips. My fingertips continued over his picture-perfect jaw line, and I shuddered at his warmth and deliciousness so close to me. Subtle outside noises bristled against the straw roof of the cottage, something that always made me feel at home, even with all the bad memories it may have held once. My cheek had glued to the skin on his chest when I tried to sit up with a faint yawn. The black top clung to my body with sweat from the furnace of being so close to him, but I hadn’t dared move away from him during the night. Gray morning light spilled in, the distant rumble of the ocean seeped through open windows, white curtains bellowed into the room, and I drew in and savored the calm before the storm. Those little moments were the glue that held together all the pieces of our lives, evanescent on my chest as I inhaled his sweet scent, fully aware that this moment held no real truth. Nonetheless, I lay back down, nestling myself back into the safety of Troy’s arms and listened to his heartbeat, memorizing each soft thump, each drawn breath. There were soft shuffles on the floorboards, cupboards gently being opened and shut, the smell of fresh bread swirled around me in a daze as Troy pretended to wake. His chest rose, taking in the fresh morning air, his arms tightening over me. He looked past me, frowned, extended his arm and smacked Greg on the head. Greg jumped from the couch, feet digging into the edges of our floor bed.

  “What!”

  “You were snoring,” he said callously.

  “I was?”

  “Bro, you’re supposed to have kept guard.”

  Greg sat back on the sofa, rubbing his neck. “Rion and Willard…” he started.

  “Hey, I asked you, not the young warriors – you!”

  Greg mumbled and got up off the couch. “Smells great,” he said.

  There was a slapping sound.

  “Women and children first,” Anaya reprimanded from the kitchen.

  The subtle casualness reminded me of the first time in the cottage with Maya.

  “Morning,” Troy said softly, tucking my hair behind my ear. I looked away feeling self–conscious all of a sudden, like he hadn’t already seen me at my worst.

  “Don’t,” he said, lifting my chin so our eyes could meet. “You are beautiful.” He smiled.

  But his words should have held more truth, because until he fully knew what I was and what I was capable of…

  “You don’t take compliments very well do you?” He pinched the soft skin beneath my hip.

  I giggled.

  “Oh, you can feel that now, can you?” He proceeded to tickle the tender flesh between my ribs and hip. I squealed a sweet torture.

  Not being able to take it anymore, I rolled onto my knees.

  “You have ten minutes to freshen up before this goes to the vultures,” Anaya said from the kitchen.

  He smiled. Leaning over, I kissed Troy on his lips, the zing rippled down over my spine and my chest filled with warm, peacefully sweet air. I pulled the blanket from Troy to cover the hot-pants I had borrowed from Sam the previous night. As I walked away, I wondered how she was, if one night away from the Council’s influence had made any significant change in her mind and attitude.

  “Hey!” Troy pretended to grab the blanket, but I took off with loud thumps over the wooden floor into the passage where I stopped, hitting a strange sense of déjà vu full on. A soft, pink morning glow filtered through the small window in the passage as I leaned back against the wall, no longer feeling the sheet against my legs, or the wall pressing against my back. I took in the distance between Troy and me, the boundary of his touch just inches away. I pressed the sheet with a fist to my chest. How long will this happiness stay before it, too, leaves me like my physical senses? How long will he stay before he realizes… A flash hits me – a previous memory of me standing in this exact hallway. Déjàvu tugging me out of reality. Suddenly, cold air left my lungs in white tufts. I had dropped my brush. Enoch eyeing it out. I let out a shaken gasp. How had I not seen that? We had been standing in that very passage when he’d taken hair from my brush to make that voodoo doll. Back then, he must have pushed my mind so all I had seen was him handing me the brush. I hit myself on the forehead. A crushing sickness threatened to spill from my mouth. I was blinded by new affections back then, but they would never be mine to have, it was all a trick – a beautiful lie.

  “Ava,” Maya’s voice coming from her room brought me back to the present, as traces of my memory physically ripped from me with a bang. I rushed in, left the door swinging behind me. A slither of light shone in from the window above her bed, illuminating her beautiful face. Reflections from the colored bottles danced on the floor in a kaleidoscope of bright, beautiful swirls. She was still sleeping, dreaming – and deep under the sedation spell, to my disappointment and misplaced relief.

  “She just needs time,” Anaya said from the door.

  “Would you stop sneaking up on me?” I pushed her.

  I hovered above Maya, hesitant to touch her because last time I did she nearly took my head off – literally.

  “When I get my hands on him…” I said to myself on the way out.

  Anaya brushed her hand over my shoulder as I broke past her into the passage. “I kept your breakfast in the oven, the boys could not wait a minute longer.”

  “Thank you,” I whispered.

  “There is a pair of old denims, a white shirt you left here, some underwear, and socks in the bathroom by your bag.”

  “Thank you,” I said again, turning back to her. I think I actually meant those words. I hesitated before going into the bathroom. My entire body felt heavy with every step I took closer to his room. I dawdled outside Enoch’s door, my hand hung over the intricate silver door handle, my heart a loud thump in my ears, a sickening memory of us on that bed – I pulled back as I heard someone come down the passage. I slipped into the bathroom and sank against the shower wall. I let the soothing water rush over my head, wash the poisonous bad memories of my former from my skin. Slipping in to Maya’s old pair of denims with a little tear by the knee, I stared at my pale skin, waiting for the nothingness to return, to somehow block all of my priors out, when I noticed my hand gripping the basin so tightly it began to crack. I pulled back. Whatever was happening inside was slowly killing me. The pain I should have felt, the steam on my face, the breeze from the open window over my skin, were all signs of my slow death. I combed my fingers through my damp knots, let them fall over my shoulders, made sure my hair covered the tattoo over my neck, and stared into the dark glass acting like a screen or mirror. I bit down on my lip. How long cou
ld I keep the secret to myself, how long would it take to completely take me under? In the village, and when near Troy, I was somewhat able to part from its wicked ways. But I cannot hide from it forever, it was inside of me, waiting for something. My breath clouded over the ‘mirror’ and my face disappeared.

  After breakfast, we made sure to leave before the rest of the village awoke for their daily duties. The chief and his son had granted us one night only in the village, as our presence would put them in danger, too. Clouds started to roll in, the rustle of wind through the trees reminded me of better days, as did the ground beneath the huge jacaranda tree carpeted in purple flowers outside the cottage. The rush of the stream over rocks and tree stumps in the distance, called to me for a while. I turned to look down the path, pulling my bag to my chest, kept my fists over where my heart should have felt something, other than the weight of my mistakes, and let my eyes trail down the river. A reminder of how Troy and I had been kidnapped was threatening to pull me into one of those sick memories where it came alive inside my head. Troy took my hand, saving me from that spot once more, and led me through the overgrown path toward the russet gate. It squeaked open – a pleasant, nostalgic sound. Staring into the gems set in the metal, silver filigree as I closed it behind me, they stared back with not as much as a whisper of a glow. I had learned by then that the glow meant some kind of foreseeing; something I had not learned to read yet. But as it was, the gems and crystals weren’t saying much to me. Letting go of Troy’s warm hand, I kept staring at the huge jacaranda tree branches; they seemed to reach into the sky like they would bring back some part of me that had long elapsed. Beneath the bent branches, I imagined our footprints on the river bank. The deep-set marks of our bodies as we were pushed and hit to the ground, claw marks as I tried to get away from the blows, from Zulu spears and knobkerries as I fought for my life and his. A heavy blow hit my chest as I tore my eyes away from swaying reeds, and looked back at what felt like the last time I would ever look upon the empty pottery wheel where Arriana would have been sitting, spinning away in the early morning mist. When I turned, Anaya’s comforting blue-green eyes were staring back.

  “It will pass, I promise.”

  I nodded, adjusted my bag on my back and stared ahead. Tatos and Kronan led the way, Willard stayed at the horse’s side where my sister’s comatose body lay in Rion’s arms. Dawn’s rays glistened off the horse’s dark, gray pelt, and shimmered off of Rion’s jet-black hair, the horse’s white tail nonchalantly swinging wildly in the wind.

  Minutes later, tracking through the Minoan market place, we stood among Minoan warriors that dared leave the confines of their safety among their chief and villagers to see Kronan and Anaya off, to pay their respects for the loss of Arriana, a sister, a mother and a Pure. Troy saluted the few Jaguar gang’s members, those that hadn’t stayed behind to shelter the runaways from the Council, as they neared the beach.

  “I’m sorry about the general,” I said, taking Troy’s hand in mine. The desperation of keeping skin contact with him had become like a need, a need of the stillness he instilled within.

  “It’s not your fault,” he said. “I guess he wasn’t as careful as he had thought.”

  I swallowed the pain I felt in my chest, mistakenly thinking it was sorrow for yet another loss in our quest, but would soon realize the truth and poison behind Enoch’s words – guilt would be my downfall; remorse drove my disease, fueled it. Nonetheless, I welcomed any feeling over nothing. Tucking his hand into mine under my gray cloak for comfort, I kept my hoodie drawn to restrict my peripheral vision of the beach, somewhat saddened I had to be in hiding from the one place that was once my hope for freedom. The Minoans were not so pleased with all I had done anymore, and the sight of me was now labeled as a curse. The chief had turned them against Anaya, Kronan and any Truth Seekers of the prophecy who had brought evil to their village. Now we were a danger to secrets that made them pure.

  “So, our fight at the general’s place and my presence in the dorms didn’t set things off, didn’t alert the Council?” I finally begged for the truth.

  Troy’s lips pursed together, trying to be as gentle as he could.

  “It might have played a part, yes, but it was bound to happen anyway. Perhaps it was a good thing it happened sooner rather than later, because a great number of lives were saved.”

  I held my tongue. If lives were saved, how many had we lost?

  Waves rolled over pink and black coral, washed up green and gray seaweed strewn over the creamy beach sand. Our boots cracked over shells of spat out sea creatures. Small black boulders thrown to shore – a sign a storm had hit the oceans hard the previous night.

  Troy kept our hands bound, perhaps knowing why I needed him so close to me all the time. He smiled, a gentle twist to the curve of his mouth. The horse neighed and started kicking the sand beneath her front hooves. I stared past him at the sky’s reflection in the shallow waves as it pulled, and pooled on the sand. Visual echoes of dark, gray clouds cut like fingers into a canvas of a colorful day that might have been perfect in another time. I would miss the Minoan village and its serene magic, the views, the beach, the twinkle of enchanted chimes scattered in trees as wind scooped up the musical shapes. All I could think of was how I was losing everything I had ever wanted. More than ever, I was a prisoner. Bound to a prophecy I splendidly screwed up.

  “You will figure it out,” Troy said, stroking my cheek upon seeing my frustrations painted all over my face.

  Tatos came in behind us. “We are ready,” he said to Troy, in a tone that was flat and very much ridden with bitter sorrow. How does one leave everything you’ve ever known behind?

  “It is not forever, I assure you that,” Tatos answered my thoughts, his hand resting on my shoulder. I kept Troy’s hand in mine. I took in the false sense of calmness of Silverwood Cove. Something was coming, it buzzed beneath my skin, and I wished we could have stayed a moment longer to protect the village. But the protection they now needed was from me.

  “Troy?”

  He turned to meet my concerned eyes, met my anticipated question with a gentle stroke to my upper arm. “There is no way the Council will find them, our friends will be safe for a while.”

  “I need to know where they are,” the words jumped out of my mouth in an almost interrogating way.

  “I’ll take you to them when we return,” he simply said.

  “You are not going to tell me,” I stated harshly.

  His silence was met with a sharp confused glare.

  Morning pierced through gray clouds, casting long shadows on the sand before me, trees whispering their goodbyes in the slight breeze of the unfamiliar journey before us.

  “Easy girl, easy girl,” Willard said to the horse as she became unsettled.

  “Where is Doner?” I asked him, referring to his white and brown patched horse.

  “With my family, they might need her.” He rubbed the gray horse, staring distantly at the shine of her pelt.

  Rion held Maya’s horse steady, slowly turning in circles to keep the horse from running.

  “She is here,” Kronan announced.

  Troy smirked. I had never expected what emerged from the water. A giant metal and wooden ship, not at all like submarines as depicted in Earth movies. Something almost antique looking, made up of massive tinted windows, bronze, gold and silver metal intertwined together to form an artwork of symbols, gadgets, and huge doors. I turned, looked to Anaya as she, Willard and a few younger Minoan warriors made their way to the tiny strip of docks, fishing canoes decorated in blue and white patterns lined up, bobbing in gentle waves. Troy whistled loudly, and waved in calling. A handful of military students and volunteers made their way from behind the rocks’ shadows; all wearing gray hoodies, hoping that their identities remained secret a little while longer. Perhaps the Keepers would write them off as dead – one could only hope. I noticed one of the boys had a bandage on his right hand – a sign he’d been debugged, tracker removed,
committed fully to being introduced to the world of emotions and feelings, to being as human as he could be, or die trying. Anaya took her beads from around her neck and like Kronan, twirled them around her wrist. She patted the horse carrying Maya, the one Rion was guarding. “Let us go, the sun is rising quickly in these late summer days.”

  Rion winked at us from the back of his horse, holding Maya’s head to his chest as he turned, the hood of her coat, one identical to mine, hung over her eyes. I stared at her perfectly shaped lips.

  “Can’t you read her mind?” I asked Anaya, as we walked toward the docks. But I already knew the answer. Arriana was the only one, she knew the backdoors of the mind, the knowledge of how to push and pull any mind entrapped in complex spells; hers was a given talent, not one learned or taught.

  Kronan and Troy carried Maya steadily into our tiny canoe that would take us to the submarine carrier. I stared into the water, closing my eyes and fighting the dreadful memory the motion of the canoe brought back, like a cut to my gut. I would never forget. Troy grabbed my hand. I looked up to him, and my memory faded as I kept my stare on his gentle, hazel eyes. “The past shouldn’t matter anymore,” he whispered in my ear. He always knew what to say.

  My jaw tightened. Just about anything would bring back a memory of my former self when I tried to distinguish myself from that which made me vulnerable to the Shadowing disease. I leaned into his neck, losing myself in his scent and touch until we were hoisted onto the giant submarine carrier. Our boots clambered on the solid, dark, wooden deck. I could hear the trotting of Tatos’ and Willard’s horses echoing over the hull. It all felt so surreal, without me wanting to digest what was actually about to unfold hours away – war. I sank my back against the metal railing of the extensive ship. Robert, David, Greg and Shane, stood staring in the direction we were headed. Our Minoan circle of warriors took my sister below deck, sweeping through the ship one last time for any signs of witchcraft, or tracking devices. Troy stayed with me and Willard, but I had the sense he would much rather have been the one to scan the ship. Groups of people started to settle in. And once the ship pulled away, the giant pang in my stomach threatened to steal my breath. It was really happening. I turned, pushing my gut into the railing, trying to force the anxiety and disbelief out. It was becoming apparent that Troy’s effects on my feeling ability were growing in proximity. I stared at the distance between my hand and his on the railing. A good two feet separated us, but my insides were still alive, my skin just feeling the cold, hard, balustrade. The fast rising sun burned through mist on the beachfront and reached into the shadows of the forest. As I turned away, my eyes caught two figures standing on the rocks at the forest’s edge of the receding land. At first, I thought it might just be an illusion cast by the glint of the silverwood trees. But, unmistakable blue and purple feathers twirled in the wind. I knocked Troy’s arm.