Everlong

by Hailey Edwards

  I leaned forward, bracing my elbows on my knees. “I’m not your responsibility.”

  She captured my face between her palms. “I am bound to you by love, not obligation. You’re the one trapped in the past, not me. It’s time you start living or get on with dying.” She stood, leaving her chair to rock angrily in her wake. “Either way, I’m washing my hands of you until you deal with this. I mean really deal with this.”

  She stalked over to the front door and slammed it solidly behind her, leaving the windowpanes to rattle like her teeth had in the cold.

  Scattered beneath my rocker, the mug was past saving, but Emma’s ultimatum made me wonder for the first time if maybe I wasn’t.

  Chapter Six

  I rolled a couple of oranges across the countertop, sliced them in half, then settled them face down on the electric juicer. “Emma!” I stared at the ceiling overhead and yelled louder. “Breakfast is ready. Come and get it.”

  Over the grinding, whirring sounds of an orange dying, I heard the shrill ring of the telephone and grabbed it with juice-sticky fingers. “Hello?”

  “Hello there, it’s Dana, I just wanted to call and see how you were holding up this morning.” A beat of silence passed. “Well? How are you?”

  “Thanks for thinking of me. I’m feeling much better today.” I smiled, thinking for the first time those words rang true. “Emma and I had a little talk, and I think I’m finally ready to lay Harper’s memory to rest.” I rescued bacon from the frying pan, using the spatula to drop the crisp strips onto a paper-towel-lined plate. Then I killed the flickering gas flame on the stove.

  “I’m so glad to hear that.” Dana’s enthusiasm cranked up a few notches. “The fifth year marks the end…”

  I tuned her out, listening to the floor creaking overhead accompanied by the dull thump of socked feet on the stairs. “Did you need to speak with Emma?”

  Dana stopped talking mid-sentence. “I— Of course, that would be lovely.”

  Wouldn’t it just? I snorted, covering the sound with a cough. Emma shuffled into the kitchen. Her wide-set eyes were still half closed with sleep and her unruly blonde curls flattened to one side of her head.

  I pointed to the receiver tucked between my chin and shoulder. “Dana’s on the phone.”

  Emma snatched the handset, pegging me with a bleary glare before addressing Dana. “Hmmph?”

  I cut pats of butter and drizzled syrup over our waffles while Dana talked and Emma grunted in response. Then I set two places at the table and dropped into my chair in time to watch the three tries it took Emma to successfully hang the handset back in its cradle on the wall.

  It fell, clattering onto the counter where we both ignored it. It was safer that way.

  “What did Mary Sunshine want with you so bright and early?” I teased, mostly.

  Emma glared through puffy eyes, stabbing a piece of waffle with more force than necessary and popping it into her mouth after missing the hole the first two tries. I pushed a mug of steaming black coffee towards her with the tip of my middle finger.

  Her nostrils flared, eyes gone wild as her teeth bared in a low snarl. I glimpsed the old Emma in her expression, the one who would have stabbed someone with a crochet needle rather than knit them mittens. I flattened my hand on the tabletop, lowering my gaze from her eyes to her shoulder, submissive and uninterested, a posture I had perfected sometime between hitting puberty and Archer hitting me.

  Emma’s hand snapped forward as if magnetized, lunging for the handle and almost toppling her prize in the process. Fortunately, she ran more towards lethargic than lethal in the mornings. After she managed to stick her finger in the blistering liquid and added a few new words to the English language, I gave up and cupped her hands around the mug. Her first, audible swallow ended on a blissful sigh. She grunted again in acknowledgement, managing to sound more human.

  Demon metabolism went haywire after consuming caffeine. It was addictive, not that Dana had bothered to impart that knowledge until after Emma had taken her first sip. I mean, humans thrived on the stuff, and Emma and I brewed more pots of coffee on any given day than we had pennies in the overflowing “take a penny” tray. We ran a diner after all. A word to the wise should have come standard.

  According to Dana, again, after the fact, coffee became the over-the-counter drug of choice for the local demon youth within months of the colony’s establishment. Unregulated, within easy reach, and completely harmless to humans, there wasn’t much that could be done to curb the epidemic other than keep decaf on hand and learn to read the fine print on food labels.

  Even some halflings suffered the metabolic woes of their half-demon heritage. Emma swore she didn’t have a problem. Some mornings I wasn’t so sure. Just to be on the safe side, I had slowly begun cutting Emma’s morning brew with half-decaffeinated grounds. She pushed her mug away, frowning into its depths. I knew she’d figure it out sooner or later.

  “It stopped snowing.” I nibbled on a piece of bacon. “It’s still pretty cloudy out there. I think we’ll have rain moving in by the afternoon.” I waited, watching her stab another waffle before checking my watch. “Are you going to shower before we head in to work?”

  Emma upturned her mug, draining the last semi-caffeinated drops. “No work today.” Her voice sounded rusty with disuse. “That’s why Dana called. She wanted to tell us the town is still shut down from the snow yesterday.” She picked over the remainder of her breakfast. “The inn is firing up its kitchen to feed the out-of-towners so we can have the day off.” She pushed back from the table, carrying her dirty dishes as she went, effectively ending the conversation.

  “This isn’t about the weather, is it?” I carried my dishes over, bumped Emma out of the way with my hip and took her place at the sink. “I know we don’t get much snow here, but the flurries yesterday are hardly reason enough to shut down the whole town.” I peeked through the lace-lined windows into the backyard. “Most of it’s melted already, so spill. What’s going on?”

  “We thought…” She cleared her throat. “I thought you might like the day to yourself.” She pushed me aside to rinse her plate and cup in the sink. “I know you planned on going up to Marchland after work. This way you can be home around lunch.”

  I leaned over, propping my chin on her shoulder. “Thanks.”

  Emma patted my cheek with a damp hand. “You know, you could always stay home instead. I’m heading over to Dana’s for the weekly women’s circle meeting. All the wives will be there, even a few of the males hang out for a bit. It would give you a chance to mingle outside of taking their orders at the diner.”

  “Not today.” I lost my chinrest when she moved away from me. “Maybe next week?”

  Emma sighed, massaging her temples. “The time is coming where you’re going to need their counsel. There are things you need to be told.” She frowned. “You probably should have already been told.”

  “Soon,” I promised, absently washing my dishes and setting them beside hers in the rack to dry.

  “Not soon, tonight. The wives said you needed to know before.” She sounded distant, uncertain. “But I thought you deserved to have at least one more day of peace.”

  I glanced at my sister. Shadows having nothing to do with the early hour darkened her eyes. She chewed her naked thumbnail, keeping her eyes downcast.

  “Is something wrong?”

  She waved away my worries. “It will keep a while longer.”

  We stood there for a minute or two with the hot-water pipes groaning in protest and the sink dripping into the basin.

  “I’m taking your advice.” I tried to sound casual. “When I go to Marchland…I’m saying my goodbyes to Harper.”

  Her hand dropped to her side. “Are you sure you don’t want some company?”

  “No, I’m good. I just need some time alone.” A pent-up breath whistled through my lips. “You were right. I need to move on. I may not make it on the first try, but…” I shrugged, “…It’s the b
est I can do.”

  Emma closed the distance between us and wrapped me in a hug that smelled of coffee and sister and hope. “I’m so proud of you. We’ll make this work.”

  I sniffled through blurred vision.

  She pulled back and caught my chin between her fingers. “You’re going to make it. I promise.” She gave a final tug, her voice filling with mischief. “Now that we have that settled, I’ve been thinking you might like a new companion. One who enjoys the outdoors almost as much as you? What about a pet?”

  “What about a pet?” Excuses bubbled up, tripping out over my lips. “Animals don’t like me. They bite, and claw, and look at me funny. It’s not a good idea.”

  “You’re being silly.”

  “You’re half human. They like you.” I stumbled backwards as if she could pull a puppy from her pocket. “I’m just, I don’t know. I must smell like—something.”

  “You smell like something all right.” Emma chuckled. “Like a hot date.”

  “I—” My jaw hung open, disbelieving. “What are you talking about?” I knew I didn’t like being the center of their beady-eyed attention, but I’d been too busy extracting myself from their furry embraces to wonder why they acted that way. “The Moore’s bull terriers…”

  Emma continued to snicker. “They were humping your leg.”

  My cheeks flamed. Feeling my way along the counter, I palmed an orange left over from breakfast and hurled it right at her smirking face. It glanced off Emma’s shoulder and rolled down the hall. I grabbed the phone next, but thought better of throwing it when I doubted my aim would be much improved. “I can’t believe you didn’t tell me.” I groaned, covering my eyes with one hand. “No wonder everyone looks at me that way.”

  Emma’s face split into a grin. “You’re like one of those pet whisperers, only with a nine-hundred hotline voice.”

  “What is that supposed to mean?” Judging by her gasping breaths, it wasn’t a good thing.

  “A phone-sex operator.” Emma’s eyes rolled skyward. “You know, you call the number on television, get talked through a good time, and get charged out the wazoo for the privilege.”

  “No, I did not know.” I dropped the cordless phone onto the counter, wiping my hand across my jeans but still managing to feel dirty. “How do you find out about this stuff?”

  She sighed. “We’ve lived here for five years. I watch television, read books and keep my eyes open. I’ve even dated a couple of times, remember?”

  I hadn’t remembered. “Humans,” I said, “from town.”

  Emma’s lips hitched to one side. “Yes, the owner of the hardware store and the curly-haired realtor who blew through town a few months back.” She laughed, but it was a tired sound. “Most of the demons are taken, and I’m half human anyway…” She scratched her fingernail across the countertop, picking at a spot of dried spaghetti sauce left over from the night before. “I loved Harper too, you know.”

  I tossed her a damp rag from the sink. “I know you did.”

  Instead of cleaning, she glanced up at me, tilting her head to one side and pursing her lips. “Are you sure you don’t want company?”

  “I thought about asking you to go, but I think this is something I should do alone.”

  Emma nodded. “Yeah, okay. Just keep your cell phone turned on and in your pocket. If you need anything…”

  I joined her on the braided rag rug, pulled her into my arms and squeezed. “I’ll call you.”

  “You better. It’s an hour there and an hour back. Three hours round trip if you keep an eye on the time.” Her expression turned doubtful. “Just be home before nightfall.”

  I imagined her recalling all the times I’d become lost to my memories, burning away the daylight hours until I was forced to call her for a pickup. “I will.”

  She continued to frown. “I’m serious. You’re as blind as a bat in the dark. Plus the rain.” Emma’s voice went stern. “Don’t chance it.”

  I glanced over her head at the Felix the Cat clock mounted on the wall. “It’s seven a.m. I have ten hours before dark, give or take a few. What’s the worst that could happen?”

  Chapter Seven

  The front tires of my truck had rolled over the invisible line separating Cleburne and Randolph counties when a loud pop rang out over my right shoulder, followed by a steady whomp, whomp, whomping.

  Slapping my open palms against the steering wheel, I guided the wobbling truck onto the hard shoulder of road. It coasted unsteadily to a stop in front of a green metal sign. “Welcome to Grove Oak” was the bold declaration. The city’s singular attraction was spelled out in bold print one line lower, “Marchland Cemetery, Next Left.”

  I pushed open the door and stepped out onto slushy gravel. A few token drops of rain anointed my forehead and drew my eyes up to where blue-black storm clouds spilled across the sky like ink from a broken pen.

  Glancing at the driver’s-side tires, I frowned at them. Both were plump and taut. Rounding the tailgate to the passenger’s side, I fought off the surge of annoyance tightening the muscles of my jaw. The rear rim sandwiched a mattress of deflated rubber, scored like a breakfast waffle, on thawing grass.

  Kicking the sagging rubber blob, I was forced to consider my options. During our first year in the colony, Emma had forced me to complete the requisite courses to obtain our new citizenship. Including a driving school complete with vehicle operation and maintenance classes. So, I knew how to change a tire. In theory.

  A muffled rumble of thunder deep in the angry sky forced a rapid choice. I decided I’d rather put my insurance premium to work by calling for roadside assistance. I slid my hand into the pocket of my jacket, groping for my phone that wasn’t there.

  “Hmmm.” Frustration growing, I circled around to the open door and leaned across the bench seat until the piping cut into my stomach. Most of the time I left the backpack I used as a purse slumped on the floorboard and that’s where it sat now. My fingers hooked the chestnut strap and hauled it up onto the seat where I dumped the bag’s contents over the fake leather upholstery.

  A miniature first-aid kit tumbled out followed by a nutrition bar, my billfold, a few feminine odds and ends, but no cellular phone.

  A rush of air hissed through my teeth. This was not good. Impatiently, I crammed everything back into place. The hooked closure on the backpack snagged my sleeve, tumbling the bag onto the road and tipping its contents when I yanked my arm away. Items skittered across the pavement to lie still beneath the truck.

  I had parked on an incline designed to guide rainwater into the ditches off to either side of the road. Bending down to retrieve my bits and not-so-valuable pieces, I lost my balance and braced my weight on the running board. Hinges groaned as the door swung closed, hitting my back in the gap where jeans and jacket didn’t meet. I felt a searing stripe of pain where a deep line was scored across my spine.

  “Un-freaking-believable.” I stretched upwards to relieve the ache, taking the partially closed door in hand. Tensing my arm, I slammed it shut and rocked the truck with my irritation.

  Suddenly, dread niggled at my senses. I pulled up on the door handle, but it refused to budge. I knew what I would see as I cupped my hands against the glass to peer inside. Yep. There they were. My keys dangled blatantly in the ignition.

  Thump, thump, thump. My forehead hit on the glass several times. I spun around and collapsed against the truck, staring down the empty road. Bleak old-growth oak trees strung with moss lined both sides of the pavement. Flickering shadows prowled beneath the canopy of leaves. Automatically, I rubbed my arms to quell those prickles riding my skin in the rising chill. There was no way I wanted to be trapped out here alone. So much death, even peaceful death, was eerie.

  I felt insane for driving out to pay homage to a blank marker and the barren grave. Emma had insisted this empty symbol would give me a sense of closure. Harper’s funeral rites had been performed there too, but I’d forbidden the colony to add his name to the marbl
e. To see it etched in stone would have broken me in the early days. Even now, I wasn’t too keen on the idea.

  Screened behind the grove of trees, a black wrought-iron fence ran the length of the road and towered over the sloped banks dropping into the deeper of the two drainage ditches. The guard shack sat at the edge of my vision, welcoming visitors to the cemetery.

  Scooping the last of my belongings off the pavement under the truck, I slung the bag over my shoulder. Taking a deep breath of cold air, I moved towards the lights. Soggy gravel crunched at every step of my tennis shoes. I had only covered half the distance down the lane when the bottom of the threatening storm fell out.

  Wind whipped at my skin as it drove solid pellets of rain in stinging slaps on my neck and face. Thunder crashed as lightning brushed veined fingers across the sky. The dim glow of light called to me from a few hundred yards ahead. I ran, slipping and sliding over ground undecided whether it wanted to refreeze or melt.

  The toe of my right sneaker touched on a patch of ice and sent me skating the last few feet until my outstretched hands smacked into the thin metal wall of the guard shack. Through the window centered in the door, I saw Jacob Mathews sitting at his desk, newspaper in hand, staring back at me. I gave a weak wiggle of my stinging fingers as he came over to investigate.

  “Madelyn.” He greeted me warmly, stepping aside to allow me to enter. “Nasty day for paying visits.”

  “Hey, Jacob.” I skirted around his body while he partially blocked the door. “It’s just tradition, I guess. I always drive up the day after.” My shoulder brushed against his chest, and he sucked in a harsh breath. “Are you okay?”

  He rubbed the spot and grinned. “I’m about to be.”

  I returned the smile, uncomfortable, but uncertain how much to blame on my lack of social graces versus any intentions he might have had for making me feel that way.

  Jacob’s khaki uniform strained over a thickly muscled chest, leading to a tapered waist that put mine to shame. I tried not to stare, but the proportions weren’t quite right for either a man or a male of his species. He seemed to have trouble holding his glamour, and I didn’t like what I saw through the illusion. Too late, I wished I’d stayed at the truck in the rain instead of seeking shelter here.