by S. L. Naeole
“Are you family?”
I looked at the paramedic and answered him honestly.
“You can’t come in the ambulance unless you’re a family member,” he informed me.
“Yeah, I know,” I said quietly. “Is she going to be okay?”
He shrugged. “It’s hard to say with the older ones. If she doesn’t start breathing on her own, she won’t last the morning.”
Mrs. Lorimax had a clear, triangular-shaped plastic cap over her mouth, a woman busy squeezing a bag of air every few seconds while the paramedic who’d spoken to me was checking her pulse. He was looking at his watch, and I could hear him counting in his head, hear his thoughts as he doubted that any of our efforts was going to be worth it.
A crowd had gathered, faces I didn’t recognize, worried expressions covering all of them. They spoke quietly amongst themselves, but it wasn’t what they said that I heard the loudest. Instead, it was what they didn’t say.
That family has always been weird.
It’s not normal for them to be alone so often at that age.
That’s what the old hag gets for sticking her nose into other people’s business.
It was overwhelming, the ambush of thoughts. I forced my eyes closed, squeezing them shut and trying to concentrate on the woman whose hand I still clutched in mine, but the voices grew louder and louder, more of them joining in as more people arrived.
“Let go, Grace.”
“Grace, let go.”
Why is she holding onto her hand?
Does she even know Tilly?
“Grace, you have to let go.”
Why isn’t she letting go of that woman?
Someone’s gonna have to tear her away; it’s like she’s obsessed or something!
“She’s breathing!”
Two words; not nearly as loud as the voices in my head, but still loud enough to get me to open my eyes. “She’s what?”
“She’s breathing!” the paramedic exclaimed. I looked at Mrs. Lorimax and saw that her eyes were open. She was looking at me, and she squeezed my hand. It was a weak squeeze, but it was more than she’d given me in the last half-hour.
“Hey,” I said to her. “Welcome back.”
My head…hurts so much.
“The paramedics are going to take you to the hospital now, okay?”
She blinked. Who’s going to take care of my babies?
“Everything will be fine, Mrs. Lorimax, I promise. You just get better,” I whispered before I moved aside to let the paramedics work on getting her into the ambulance.
I let go of her hand, and watched as quickly, with a precision that came from years of repeating the same procedures over and over, the paramedics had an IV in her arm, a board beneath her, and a silver blanket covering her body. She disappeared into the back of the ambulance, one paramedic following, while the other ran to the front, turning the siren on and driving away.
The crowd dispersed as soon as the flashing red lights could no longer be seen, and in just a matter of minutes, Lark, Stacy, Graham and I were alone again on the street. I walked over to Mrs. Lorimax’s house and found the door open.
“She said she had babies in here,” I said out loud, knowing that I’d been followed.
“Babies? You mean like old lady babies? The four-legged meowing kind? Or the kidnapped and put in freezers for soup and knitting kind?” Graham asked with a shiver in his voice.
“I thought we agreed no more horror movies,” Stacy commented as we walked into the living room of cluttered home.
“You kinda don’t ever get rid of those images, Stacy.”
“I told you to close your eyes. It’s your fault. I told you, Cheerleaders vs. Sharks or Grandma Gore-fest; you chose gore.”
“That’s because I thought the last thing you wanted to see were half-naked cheerleaders fighting fish!”
“Well then, that’s your fault.”
I turned around and fumed. “Could you two quit it? Just once?”
“Sorry,” they both said bashfully.
Lark bent down and picked up a bowl with a picture of a fish glazed on it. “She’s got cats.”
“Cats. With a ‘s’. Great,” I said before clicking my tongue. “Here kitty-kitty.”
“What, you don’t like cats?” Stacy asked, pushing a sofa away from the wall with her finger before returning it back to its original place.”
“I’ve never owned one. My dad’s allergic to them.”
Lark let out a guffaw. “With all of the singing cat albums he’s got, and he’s allergic to them?”
“Yeah. He breaks out into a pretty bad rash whenever he’s around cats.”
“What about a dog? We had a dog when I was twelve but it ran away. I think it got tired of my mom trying to feed it leftover kim chi stew.”
I shook my head. “My mom was allergic to dogs.”
“Your mother was an angel—she wasn’t allergic to anything,” Graham reminded me.
From the corner of my eye I saw movement near the kitchen. “I think one of the cats is in there.”
The four of us walked quietly to the small area and each one of us gasped. There wasn’t one cat. There weren’t even two or four cats. The entire kitchen floor was covered in cats.
“How many?” Stacy asked.
“Ten here,” Lark said with a shudder.
“Here?” Graham gulped.
“There are more upstairs,” Lark continued. “I can hear their feet.”
“But…they can’t see you, right?” Stacy asked, bending down to pet a small calico that shrank away from her strange touch and smell.
“No, they can’t.” And, as if to demonstrate, Lark walked directly into the middle of the group of cats that sat on the floor. None of them moved. She knelt down to pet the same calico but this time the animal remained still, as though she wasn’t even there.
“You think that’s why you never had a pet, Grace? Your mom didn’t want you to be disappointed when you were ignored?”
I thought about that for a minute before realizing that I’d never actually wanted one. “I’m pretty sure if I wanted a dog, my dad would have found a way to get one.”
“Go on, Grace. See if the cats can see you?” Stacy suggested.
“What? Isn’t it pretty much a given now that they can’t?”
“Well…no. I mean, this whole you-being-an-angel thing makes sense sometimes but other times it doesn’t. You can read my mind but you can’t fly. You get hurt, you bleed, but you’re starting to get really strong. And I mean really strong. What if, you know, animals like you? What if you end up being some kind of meerkat messiah?”
My jaw dropped along with my shoulders in disbelief. “Are you serious?”
“What? Pet the stupid cat!”
“Fine!”
I shoved my way to the calico and bent down. Up close, the cat looked more like a kitten. Its eyes were different colors, one a rich gold, the other a light blue, and it had black, tan, and orange splotches all along its white fur. Its tail was fluffy white, with a black tip.
“Hey, kitty,” I said softly. My hand reached out slowly, gently, and I touched its head. The cat didn’t move. It wasn’t even looking at me. I pulled my hand back. “Well, there you g-”
The cat’s paw lashed out and caught my hand, pulling it in with its claws and then…
“Is it…is it licking your hand?”
I flinched at the friction that came from the cat’s tongue. “Is that what it’s doing? It feels more like it’s trying to skin me alive.”
“Cat’s don’t lick people. I mean, seriously. That cat likes you, Grace.”
“Well,” Graham clapped, “I guess that answers the question about whether or not animals can see you.”
“It’s one cat,” Lark said skeptically. “Some cats aren’t cats, if you get my meaning.”
Stacy grabbed me and dragged me closer to the army of cats on the floor. “Tick your hand out.”
I did as she instructed, and str
uggled against her hold when one by one, the cats surrounded my extended hand and began to lick it and rub the sides of their faces against it.
“Okay, okay, stop! Cats can see me, cats can see me! They’re going to lick my hand off!” I squealed as I pulled my hand away.
“So what? What does this mean?” Graham looked at Lark and waited for her to answer.
She looked confused. “I don’t know what it means.”
“It means I’ve gotta find the cat food,” I muttered as the room began to fill with more cats, their meows filling up whatever silence had been left between the four of us.
BACKWARDS
Robert was pacing the living room, one hand gripping the back of his neck in frustration. “What were you guys thinking? Starting a fight in the front yard? The two of you are supposed to be dead and now half the neighborhood has seen you!”
“Lark was being attacked,” I pointed out.
“By two vampires. What were they going to do to her?”
Stacy growled. “They were doing plenty!”
“And they’d have no reason to do anything at all if you hadn’t been fighting with Lem in the living room at three in the morning!” he growled back. “Attacking an angel isn’t something that will keep you alive, and it certainly won’t help to keep Grace safe.”
“He changed his hair to look like Sam. He knew what kind of reaction he’d get and I’m not going to apologize for what I did. You would have done the same thing. And where the hell were you anyway, huh? She’s your wife, but you’re never here!”
“I wasn’t here because I was out answering my call! And I wouldn’t have attacked Llehmai because I would have known who he was. Lark didn’t attack him because she knew that as well. Didn’t you stop to think about that? Her call is to protect Grace—she wouldn’t have let Sam into this house.”
I rubbed my eyes and exhaled at the rebounding arguments. “You guys need to stop already. Just stop. Mrs. Lorimax is in the hospital and no one is asking why. No one is asking why those…whatever they were attacked her and Lark.”
“They were told to,” Lark said coldly.
“What?” I looked at her with alarm. “I didn’t hear that.”
“That’s because you couldn’t. Those vampires weren’t like the ones that are allowed to exist. They didn’t think; their minds were dead. All that was left was what they were told to do and even that was buried. You would have only known it was there if you were looking for it.”
I frowned. “And you were looking for it?”
She nodded. “When you can’t hear a single thought coming from something that’s attacking you, that’s a bad sign. Whoever was controlling Erica knew that. That’s why her head was constantly filled with rage and hatred over you. But those things…they were made by someone who thought that only you’d be listening.”
“Grace-”
“Wait, their minds were dead? They were just trying to kill?”
“Grace-”
“Dammit, Robert, I’m trying to get some answers here!”
“Mrs. Lorimax is gone.”
Robert’s words were chilling. They were silencing. They were destructive.
“She was alive. She was fine,” I whimpered.
“She was old, and it was her time,” Robert said in a soft, soothing voice.
“No. No, it wasn’t her time. I know it wasn’t her time; I felt it.”
He kneeled onto the floor in front of me and brought my hands down to my lap. “What you felt was her reluctance to go.”
Snatching my hands away, I squirmed off of the sofa and towards the opposite wall. “Those vampires killed Mrs. Lorimax and you’re worried about the neighbors seeing my face. What the hell is wrong with you?”
“I’m worried about people recognizing you as the girl whose face has been plastered in the papers all over Ohio for the past year and wondering why you’re here, alive, when your obituary was just in the paper.
“I’m trying to keep you safe, Grace. Can’t you see that?”
There was a tiny part of me that did. It accepted that he loved me and didn’t want to see me hurt. But it was too small to stop the part of me that was tired of running, tired of hiding, tired of secrets.
I walked towards the kitchen and reached into the cupboard for a glass. I opened the refrigerator and pulled out a pitcher of lemonade and poured it into the glass and then took a long swig. I looked down at my feet and saw the piece of paper that had been in Stacy’s pocket and I bent down to pick it up.
“You know, the more people tell me that I’m not what I think I am, and that I’m something else, the more I have to ask why I need to be kept safe? If I’m an angel like Gabriel and Michael say I am, then I’m a lot stronger than everyone else thought. If I’m not an angel, or not a whole one, then I’m still different enough to not exactly break like glass.
“I’ve survived a car exploding, a car running me down, being strangled, stabbed, and blown up. Don’t you think that I’m not as fragile as you thought I was?”
“I know that you’re stronger than any of us gave you credit for, but you still have a human heart, Grace. That’s not something that I or anyone else can ignore.”
I put my hand on his chest and gave a sort of half-smile. “You’re attached to my heart, aren’t you?”
“It’s the only one that beats just for me; I’m more than attached.”
I wrapped my arms around his neck and held him against me, his arms closing around my back and bringing me in close. I inhaled the smell of smoke and grass and leather that always seemed to be a part of him. At least the angel thing hadn’t changed my ability to smell things. I would have hated smelling something different about him.
You’ve noticed a lot of changes in you. His voice was rich and full in my mind.
I don’t like it when everyone’s thoughts cram into my head at the same time. I don’t know why it happened, if I did something to cause it, or if it’s normal, but it’s like being in a crowd and everyone’s got megaphones all pointed at me.
He sighed and brushed the back of my head with his hand. That is normal. You will learn to tune it out so that it’s more of a soft hum.
If there’s time, I thought.
He turned me around so that my back was up against the kitchen counter, the light directly in my eyes. I thought you weren’t going to give in to it? I thought you were going to fight this.
I nodded. I am. I meant if there’s time after our honeymoon.
He chuckled. You want to go on a honeymoon?
My shoulders hitched up. Well we didn’t have one, remember? We were going to take one after summer school but then…
Then I screwed up. Robert’s words brought a smile to my lips.
We both did. But that’s over. I’m not planning on dying anytime soon and I’m not letting you die either. I have a good a feeling about us, about this. We’re going to be okay.
He bent his head to kiss me, and I brought my hand up to hold his head. My eyes darted up briefly, seeing that I was still holding Stacy’s notes, and I froze.
“Grace?” Robert looked at me, feeling my sudden chill and taking it into himself. “What’s wrong, love?”
He turned his head, seeing what I was staring at, my hand beginning to shake. Stacy’s paper was backwards but with the light hitting its front, Stacy’s crisp and clear writing showed through easily.
“I AM HELL” it had said.
Now, backwards, it spelled a name.
“LLEHMAI” I breathed.
Robert let me go and was gone, leaving me tumbling, reaching for the table to keep me from falling. Lark appeared in the kitchen for a split second, but my thoughts had already reached her and she was gone, too. Stacy and Graham ran to me, chaos running through their thoughts as they both looked at each other and me, not knowing how to ask what had just happened.
“It was Lem,” I breathed. “Lem was Sam’s partner.” I showed them what I had seen, and let Graham snatch the paper from my hands as h
e held it up to the light. I could feel his fury; see the dark images that formed in his mind.
Stacy vibrated with rage. “That jackhole. Oh, I hope Lark and Robert tear him into more than just two pieces. I hope they save some for me.”
“I’m going to find them,” Graham said before he started running.
“What the hell are you gonna do, huh? What the hell do you think you’re gonna do to him?” I shouted angrily, grabbing his arm before he could leave the kitchen. “Did you forget that he beat you into a vegetable? Or that he killed Erica and Mr. Branke? How about the fact that he was controlling his own son!”
“Of course I didn’t forget! But what am I supposed to do? I can’t do anything! I’m not strong like Stacy. I can’t read minds like Lark. I can’t kill people with a freaking thought like Robert. The only thing I’m good for is eating cold pizza and acting like an idiot!” He slammed his fist into the refrigerator. It was so damaged from me throwing Stacy into it that it couldn’t take anymore abuse and its door fell off its hinge.
“Well damn,” he grunted.
“Way to go, Princess. You showed that fridge who’s boss,” Stacy snarked.
The kitchen door flew open and Robert stood there, my dad clinging to his side, his hair wild, his eyes wide and filled with uncertainty. Lark appeared behind them, Matthew in her arms, his eyes closed as he snuggled against her chest.
“Dad!”
“G-Grace?” He let go of Robert and took a tentative step towards me. That one was followed by another, and then another, and then all I could see was Dad’s shirt.
“Oh God, baby. Oh God.”
He was sobbing, his whole body shaking with the rawest emotion I’ve ever felt come through him. His hands clawed at my back, pulling me close, closer. He squeezed, hugged, grasped, and in between he hiccupped, gasped, bawled, roared.
“You’re alive. You’re alive. This isn’t possible; this can’t be happening,” he rasped into my hair before pulling away suddenly, taking a hold of my head and holding me still so that he could examine my face.
He looked at my eyes, his own red and bloodshot. I could see the days, hours, minutes, seconds of grieving in the tiny red veins that crisscrossed the whites of his eyes, netting in every moment of sorrow and holding them there.
