Watch Over You

by Sabre, Mason

  “Why are we here?” she asked, as if only suddenly remembering that Devan was there. “Are we staying?”

  “We’ll stay for a while,” he said. “We don’t have much time left.”

  “Much time?”

  Devan evaded the question by asking his own. “There was a shadow in the store?”

  Tara recalled the male shadow that had walked towards her. She thought about the fear that had overcome her; how the ground had suddenly shuddered beneath her and the girl had appeared again out of nowhere. Then she was flying backwards, but it was like falling through mud, like something holding her back. “There were two,” she said. “The girl. She was the one who pushed me out - but she was helping me.”

  “I shouldn’t have left you alone.”

  So many questions and wonderings collided in Tara’s mind and she didn’t know what it was she wanted to ask. What was foremost in her mind, though, was Eric and fear. Fear that, in a moment, she was going to see him again. Even worse, that she was going to see visions of him on their wedding day. She dreaded that. She hadn’t meant the vows quite that literally.

  Till death do us part.

  She hadn’t known that would come true so soon. She had meant when they were old and grey and laughing at the amount of wrinkles they had. When they had grandchildren and great-grandchildren. When they had lived a long life together. She had meant when they reached that point that they were too far gone with their senility to remember each other’s names. She hadn’t meant soon. She hadn’t meant now.

  She’d tried to watch the video of their wedding after Eric had died, but each time she reached that part, she wanted to take them back. She wanted to say “Even in death, we don’t part,” because that was the truth. Eric might have gone from his world, his body might be dead, but for Tara, there was no parting, only a longing that she couldn’t soothe.

  “His family didn’t come to our wedding,” she whispered. She didn’t know why she said it or why she even remembered it, but it was true. On Eric’s side of the church, it had been filled with people from his art classes, people he had helped off the streets - strangers. She couldn’t name anyone there whom he had actually been related to. It hadn’t felt odd at the time, but now it seemed like she was missing something.

  “Eric had been homeless himself,” Devan said. “He probably didn’t have a family to bring. I wouldn’t. There’s not a soul in the world who knows me that would come. Even if I died, there would be no family there,” he said flatly, but Tara could hear the undertone of sadness in his voice.

  “Eric didn’t have a family at his…” She paused again. She hated to say the word. It felt like lies to her. “…funeral,” she finished. “He had friends there. Not like when we got married, but people he had helped. People he worked with, but no family.”

  It occurred to Tara how terribly sad that was. Not just for Eric, but for Devan too. The world had these wonderful men in it - men who gave up so much of their time for others - yet they got nothing in return. She thought of her own mother and father and guilt pricked at her conscience. She hadn’t called either since Eric had died. She’d ignored calls. Not visited. She had a family and she was throwing them away because the only thing she wanted in the world was gone. Eric.

  “I was so nervous when we said our vows,” Tara said, her mind flitting from one memory to another. “I was so afraid I’d say something wrong or pass out. My head felt like it was floating away. Eric held my hand all the way through and I remember trying to speak and being afraid of saying his name wrong. Eric William Saunders. It’s not really a hard name. I thought at one point I was going to throw up right then. I gripped Eric’s hand and told myself that he was there. I remember that he squeezed my hand right back as if he knew I needed it. He always seemed to know things like that. Sometimes, if I close my eyes and think hard enough, I can feel his hand squeezing mine.” She closed her eyes, as if trying to do just that. “I wish he was still here,” she said softly.

  Tara’s mood was slipping and she knew that this wasn’t the time for another breakdown. God knows she had done enough of that already. She glanced around her. It was just the church. No shadows. No scary things hiding in the dark. No Eric. There was a crucifix in the middle of the stained glass windows behind the main altar. It was a church so there was nothing strange about the icon being there. What was strange, however, was the two birds facing each other on either side of the image - perfect reflections of each other and perfect reflections of the swallow on Devan’s hand.

  She swung around to face him, her eyes falling to his hand. Without thinking or asking, she strode over to him and grabbed his hand. Devan inhaled sharply and froze for a moment, caught unawares. It wasn’t bleeding anymore so it was no longer bandaged.

  “Tara, no.” He tried to yank his hand away, but she held on firm, jaw set with determination.

  “Let me look.”

  “I said no.” With one hard wrench, he freed his hand from Tara’s grasp. He clenched his fist and held it to his side. His face morphed into an expression of pain - but she so badly wanted to see his tattoo again.

  “It’s the same,” she exclaimed. “The same as those.” She pointed to the windows. Devan didn’t turn to look. He simply stared at her, tight-lipped and grim. She met his eyes and stared back, waiting. She wanted to know. “Tell me what it means,” she demanded. “It must mean something important for you to have it and not let me touch it and for it to be here. Tell me what it is.”

  “It’s a swallow.”

  “I know it’s a swallow, but why? What is it there for? Why are they here in the window too? They are the same. Even the colours.” She stepped closer to the window. They weren’t too high up. She pulled up one of the choir boys’ chairs, pushing aside the twinge of guilt at her irreverence, and climbed up onto it.

  “We should go,” Devan said to her. “We can't really stay here for long. It’s not safe.”

  “I'm not going anywhere until you tell me.”

  The door of the church squealed on its hinges just then, making them both pivot in fright towards the sound. Sunlight burst in through the open door and Tara wasn’t surprised in the least to see Eric. She had expected it. She knew he would come. It didn’t mean, though, that she could ignore the longing in her chest at the sight of him. This time, she didn’t run for him. She didn’t call his name or try to get his attention.

  She stepped down slowly from the chair, eyes glued to him. This was a younger Eric. The one she had married. She forgot about the swallows and Devan for a moment. In only two years after this day, Eric would die. The thought filled her with heartache. He didn’t know. They’d been so happy. She had been happier than she ever thought she could be. He had no idea what the future held in store for him.

  He sat down on one of the middle pews, oblivious to her presence there. He bowed his head, and Tara wasn’t sure if he was praying or just waiting for something.

  The door opened again and Tara half expected to see a version of herself walk in, but she didn’t. It was the shadow again - the girl. She glanced up at Tara briefly, and then turned her focus onto Eric. Tara stepped forward, concern filling her for what the shadow wanted with Eric. Did she mean him any harm? But she simply sat down next to him, quiet and sombre.

  There was such an oppressive, stifling air of sorrow in the room. It pressed down on Tara’s chest, making it difficult to breathe. Too scared to move towards Eric in case he vanished again if she did, she stepped over to Devan and held out her hand to him. She needed to feel a connection with someone. With him.

  As his hand gripped hers, a sense of warmth and calm flowed into her. Just then, the shadow and Eric looked up in unison - their every movement linked. They looked at her and Devan, and Tara’s eyes locked with Eric’s. Her heart stopped.

  They rose and stood together in silence. The shadow slowly turned and headed back down the aisle. After a moment, Eric broke his gaze and turned to follow her. Tara’s breath hitched and her heart star
ted to thunder in her ears. They stopped between the pews at the end of the aisle and looked back at Tara before turning again and disappearing through the church’s heavy doors.

  “No,” Tara cried. She jumped from the raised platform and raced down the aisle after them. She knew he would be gone by the time she reached the door, but she sprinted anyway. She had to be sure.

  She launched herself towards the doors but Devan didn’t try to stop her this time. Instead, he jumped down and ran to keep pace with her. He swung the doors wide as they reached them, allowing Tara to fly through them.

  She caught sight of the shadow girl just as she was slipping around the back. Tara darted after her, her breathing coming short and fast. As she rounded the corner, her footsteps faltered and she slowed. The shadow was moving through a cemetery, one that Tara did not remember being there. Eric wasn’t with her any longer. Careful not to step on any of the plots, Tara followed at a more hesitant pace.

  The girl stopped at someone’s grave and Tara slowed to a standstill and watched. The girl seemed oblivious to her presence, though. She gazed down for what seemed like ages before turning and slowly walking away. With each step she took, she faded a little more, her solid mass gradually becoming transparent.

  Tara didn’t call her back. She didn’t speak to Devan, either, as he came to stand beside her. He didn’t speak either; he just stood there watching her. Tara was a little afraid to see what was so important about this headstone. At the same time, she knew that if she turned and walked away, then she would regret it forever. After a minute, she took a cautious step forwards, and then another. She suddenly wished for Devan’s hand in hers, needing the comfort, but she continued to move towards the grave, a magnetic pull drawing her nearer. She stopped and stared down. When her eyes fell onto the name etched on the headstone, she gasped.

  “I don’t understand,” she whispered. “How can this be?”

  Samantha Saunders

  1980-1997

  (Aged 17)

  Beloved sister to Eric, friend to all and gone too soon.

  “I thought Sam was your sister,” she said to Devan, remembering his story. “She was Eric’s too?”

  There was no response. She turned to look at him, bewildered and lost. His face was grim and solemn, and sadness flickered over his features.

  “Take my hand,” he said softly. “Then you’ll understand everything.” He offered the hand with the swallow - the one she wasn’t allowed to touch. Her pulse fluttering like a frightened bird, she dared to reach out.

  Chapter Twenty Two

  They were floating. No. They were falling. Tara clutched Devan’s hand, holding on with such force that she feared if she were to let go, he would vanish. Electricity hummed where their palms touched - through her skin, into her hand and up her arm. She could feel the swallow as if it were alive and trapped between their linked hands. When it first moved, she squealed and tried to yank her hand away.

  “It’s okay,” Devan said. “Don’t let go. It won’t hurt you.”

  When her fingers still tried to uncurl from the shock of it, Devan tightened his, keeping her hand there. The swallow was spreading its wings in the confines of their hands. She tried to tell Devan, but her eyes suddenly wanted to close. She fought against the drowsiness but she found that she couldn’t even open her mouth to speak. The breeze swirled around her as if they were moving, yet her feet seemed to be on solid ground. She wanted to open her eyes to be sure. She wanted to check that she and Devan were still standing at the young girl’s graveside. Her eyelids fluttered and tints of light flashed in front of her.

  Tara squinted in an effort to peek at what was around them. “Close your eyes,” Devan whispered. His lips were just inches from her own. His breath tickled across her mouth when he spoke. She wanted so much to lift her head a little and make contact.

  She reached out for him with her other hand. She wanted to touch him, to hold onto him as the strange bird fluttered in her other hand. He was right - it didn’t hurt. But the sensation made her want to see it. Devan’s hand came up and his fingers found and laced through hers. Now both of their hands were linked. They seemed to fit perfectly. He held her hands up to the side of them as if he was holding her against an invisible wall.

  “Kiss me,” he said to her.

  Tara’s mind jolted at the request. “Kiss you?” she asked, fighting to open her eyes. When she did get them open a little, Devan’s face was a hairsbreadth from hers. His eyes bored into hers, and Tara felt herself start to drown in their blue depths. She could see nothing else but him. There was no malice in his eyes. No reason for her not to trust him. She wanted to kiss him - so desperately. She pictured it in her mind, - leaning forward, closing that gap, and then her mouth would be upon his.

  “Kiss me, Tara, and you’ll understand everything,” he breathed.

  Her lips parted and her breathing grew shallow. She wanted to so badly, but she was afraid. She wasn’t afraid of Devan. Something inside her knew that he wouldn’t hurt her. She was afraid of what everything really meant.

  She twisted her head to the side, turning away from him. She tried to pull her hands free, but Devan kept their fingers locked together. She knew that she wasn’t going to get her hands out of there.

  Tara’s eyes opened fully and then widened at what she saw. A small cry left her lips. They weren’t falling. They weren’t floating. They weren’t even moving. They were standing in the exact same place, in front of Sam’s gravestone. It wasn’t the rushing wind she had been feeling before. It wasn’t the wind from the sky either. Around them, surrounding them, was a mass of shadows. They circled like vultures, staring at them with beady eyes. They were ready and waiting and Tara froze in fear. She moved closer to Devan until she was pressed up against the full length of him, his warmth seeping into her and quietening the frantic beating of her heart.

  She brought her face back around until she was nose to nose with Devan again. “Kiss me,” he whispered once more, but this time his voice was more demanding. His fingers pressed tighter. “Do it now, Tara. Trust me.”

  His eyes were different again - like back at the house. They were grey, not black. They were dark and they swirled. They swirled with smoke. His eyes like were shadows.

  “Please, Tara,” he said. “It’s the only way. I promise it’ll be okay.”

  The shadows were edging closer. the circle shrinking as they went around and around like a child’s nursery song. When they got to the middle, would they all fall down?

  Devan was waiting for her and she knew what she had to do. She closed her eyes and then the distance between their lips, pressing lightly against his. They were warm, soft, like they had been the last time, but something was different this time. They were more familiar than the last time, more than someone she had kissed just a couple of times. It felt like Eric and Devan together. Then, she lost herself to it.

  Her fingers tightened around Devan’s as he kissed her back. The swallow heated up between their hands and it got dangerously close to the threshold from pleasure to pain. He kept his mouth on hers, swallowing her gasp of pain. Devan let go of both of her hands and brought his to the back of her head to keep their mouths together.

  He kissed her deeper then. Full on and forceful. She ignored the shadows that caused the wind to blow her hair around again as if they were standing in the centre of a tornado. She kissed Devan back, a need that had been craving it for years. As if he was what she had needed since Eric had gone. The only other thing that could calm her inside. When he broke away, she didn’t open her eyes, but rested her head against his chest and breathed, content to stand there with her arms wrapped around his waist a moment.

  Except as her senses began to rejoin her, she noticed that the chest her face was leaning against was taller. The waist she was holding was slimmer, longer. The bones of a slender man’s hips jutted out against her arms. This was not Devan’s arms she was in. Sudden realisation jolted her with panic and as she pulled back to se
e whom it was she was holding. But strong arms held her firm, refusing to let her go. “Let me hold you a moment.”

  “Devan?” she whispered. She wasn’t afraid of him, but she was certain that if she tried to move, he wasn’t going to let her.

  “Do you know the story of the swallow?” He whispered to her in a voice that was so soft and lulling she could drift off to sleep. She was suddenly so tired.

  “Your swallow?”

  “Not just mine, but the bird. It has many stories. Do you know that they mate for life?”

  “Like dolphins?”

  “I guess so. There’s nothing as heart-breaking as watching a swallow next to his dead mate, pushing and chirping for her to come back to life. But he doesn’t know that she is dead and that she can't. All he can do is stand there and cry for her because she isn’t moving.”

  She pictured the small bird in her mind. She pictured herself too standing over Eric. Devan was right. There was nothing more heart-breaking than the sight of one mate crying over the death of another. There was no sense to it either. Why couldn’t they both have died together?

  “There are other stories too,” he continued. “About sailors. It is said that when a sailor is returning home, he sees swallows and is therefore sure they are close to land. Sometimes, the swallow will fly alongside the vessel as if escorting it to safety.”