by S. M. McCoy
“What have you done?” Tears rolled down my cheeks. What did he do to Victor? Would he even remember me? I threw my fist into Damien’s chest. “What have you done?”
The room went dark, behind my closed lids I saw Aislin. She became clearer the more I concentrated.
“Aislin.”
“You’re awake?” She looked around and noticed where she was, “well, kind of.” She smiled at me. “You’re mastering your energy more. You made it to the astral plane all on your own.”
“I need a favor.”
“Anything.”
“Damien is taking me, you can’t stop him…he has an ability to control people. It’s more scary than I ever thought possible. Stay asleep until he’s gone. In the parlor, find Victor.” I gave her an image of the drapes covering where a window should have been, but behind the portrait was a dungeon where a man that would give up everything for me was hidden. He would forget who he was, forget what we shared, to save me. But auctioning me off to another man was not the way to do it.
I fumed.
He would not forget so easily. I smiled, thinking of the day in the rain when we walked in silence, and the only thing going through my mind was Don’t ruin this.
I opened my eyes back up to Damien’s concerned eyes.
“I need you to remember,” he said.
“I need to remember,” I agreed to placate him.
“We didn’t forget, il mio amore, it was taken from us.”
“Where would we find them again?”
“The park, where we first connected.”
“The park,” I repeated.
Something else was there and the Dragon’s riddles made more and more sense to me, but I got distracted. There were memories in that park, memories that would lead me to Ealdred, and my mom. I was supposed to return there.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
Lost Treasure
My eyes were heavy and my movements seemed so slow while walking away from the dirt trail. The trees were soft, well groomed, and a light breeze feathered their leaves. I could smell the fresh foliage like right after the rain and the sun peeked from over the horizon. I had lived this moment before, but I didn’t remember it until now. I was remembering something from my past.
In my hand was a steno notebook with blue lined pages. Flipping through them I could see movements flash in my head while I read the words: Start DLOD, diagonal line of dance, RF, right foot, 1 step back, LF, left foot, brushes beneath slight hold and extends back. I saw people in frame and heads held high. Shoulders back while feet slid across the floor smoothly as if on ice skates. It made my heart skip feeling the moment where two people worked as one, a dance partnership.
The trees opened up and a man was sitting on the stump that I felt was my destination, as if I had been there before. His face was long and not just physically, but it looked as if there were a weight upon his features.
“You seem down.” The words came out of my mouth. I couldn’t control them. I felt like I was here feeling the dirt, the branches beneath my feet, smelling the air, and seeing this man in front of me. But I couldn’t control anything.
“Huh?”
“I said, ‘You seem down.’ I really like the scenery, from right here, that is. Not many people pass by here, kind of like a lost treasure of the park.”
It was like a movie on replay with no pause or editing features. Where was I? Who was he? Why couldn’t I speak what I was thinking? Hey! Hey! Can you hear me?
“I’m sorry, please excuse me.”
“Oh, no, no, no. I did not mean for you to leave, you can stay. I am the one who interrupted you but it’s nice to know this place isn’t lost to everyone. Please stay.” I turned to leave to find another spot to rest in the sun. My body felt so heavy. Every move seemed like a deliberate action against what I wanted to do. Every word was like a force against my thoughts.
“Lost treasure.” He looked out at the opening of trees in front of him.
I turned to look at him and respond, whether or not his comment was meant for a response, or not. “One of the many ignored places that more should enjoy, but then again if more enjoyed it the beauty might be spoiled. So, best to be hush hush and keep this a lost treasure.” I looked out through the opening to see couples holding hands, dogs running for Frisbees, and children pulling up grass. This spot was like a voyeuristic dream spot. You see them but the likelihood of them looking up to see you was so small.
“What do I look like?” An odd question to ask, I suppose. My feelings nagged me as if I hoped that I hadn’t offended him in anyway. My body prepared to leave and I thought to myself, Why do I care if I offended a stranger?
I remained silent staring at him, frozen between saying something and feeling like he still had something to add like, “Do I look like your shrink?” He must not have been a very social person. I should’ve left to sort out my thoughts and figure out where I was, but my feet grew roots and wouldn’t move even if my life depended on it. My mouth gaping and I was close to answering his question literally and the words were just on the tip of my tongue.
“Blue eyes, almost purple, rough yet warm. A scar across your eye and down your cheek. You were a warrior and the other guy is much worse off. Rustled blond hair and a…frown.” I paused. “I’ve offended you.” Quizzically I observed him, trying to penetrate his stony face, decipher his body language, his facial expression, like a sculpture unmoved, but I still felt baffled. I must’ve offended him.
His shoulders relaxed and then he sprawled out on the bench with a heavy sigh.
Of relief?
I turned to leave once more.
“Sit with me, Sweets.” His voice smooth like silk, but his words seemed so demanding. So much so that I felt a slight resistance to follow, but his tone melted it away and I then sat beside him unwittingly. Straight as a board and completely unaware of why I was sitting next to a man who clearly didn’t seem to want me here. He sighed again then looked at me.
“Why do you sigh?” I say defensively as if everything he was doing was to put me on edge, which at that moment wasn’t entirely untrue.
“I am breathing deeply and enjoying my ‘lost treasure.’” I relaxed a bit, but not much, only enough to respond to him with less paranoia.
“It is a nice place.” I sat back in the bench made from a large trunk with a wedge cut out. It was smoother than I expected, as if time had removed its splinters. The surface was still damp from the morning shower and I could feel the moisture seep through my jeans.
“Very nice,” he agreed.
I felt as if he was staring at me, but as I turned to look at him his eyes were on the flowers. He then caught me staring at him.
“Is your name Crystal?” he asked bluntly.
“Excuse me?” How did he know my name? My paranoia peaked again as my spine stiffened. Something washed over me, a feeling, and my muscles relaxed. For some reason I felt comfortable with this strange man.
“It’s carved into the trunk.”
Sure enough my initials were right there. What relief; he went from creepy to observant.
I forgot about that day, it felt as if it was a good day. But he wasn’t attentive; initials couldn’t tell him my name was Crystal. My breath hitched. Even so I couldn’t leave him, I couldn’t excuse myself, and I didn’t want to.
“Yes, that was me. Aislin said I should claim my territory by marking the trunk. That by doing so the memory of the first day of discovery will be captured within the wood. To be remembered for always; all I had to do was touch the carving.” Touch the carving. I had to touch the carving to remember.
“Aislin?” he asked.
“My best friend and kind of like my mom, or a big sister. She is into psychic energies and the like; crazy but she is still wonderful.”
“It’s not crazy.” He moved his fingers across my name.
Both of us remained silent with him staring at the carving and me staring at him.
“Thank you.” He finally look
ed up from the bench.
“For what?”
“I feel myself again.”
“It’s not me; it’s the lost treasure.”
“Yes Sweets—she makes me feel calm again. It’s in the air; her scent, her life, the memories yet I am still myself basking in it.”
“Why do you call me Sweets?” I traced the trunk’s lines.
“Sweet, a smell that can be as bitter or lovely as it ever would be. I could call you Crystal, but that name means nothing. You would still be you, and I would still be me, whether I call you Sweets, or not.” He spoke as if there were no one listening, but every word was heard. Speaking of the nature and its memories. Of people and he was still a man with no name who happened to find a truth in Shakespeare.
“How Shakespearian of you.” He smiled at me, it seemed genuine. “You’re big on nature, and lofty words, like Aislin,” I continued.
“I’m big on whatever makes me feel myself. Not changing to fit my surroundings. Not adapting to others but just me. My thoughts, my emotions, my life, myself.” His eyes were fixed on mine.
Frozen, lost in his silvery blue-violet eyes. I looked away to stop feeling so connected. It was too much. I wasn’t meant to feel like this. I was only fifteen. There was no such thing as love at first words, or first sight.
“You’re more like me. I come here to get away from the drama of being social. I love people; I love to be around them. But sometimes it’s good to get a fresh start and empty out all of other people’s problems and focus on mending yourself. Nature just let’s it all fall where it may.”
I thought about my words and looked down at my feet feeling confused. My words just related him to myself and his whole reason for being here wasn’t to connect with other people but to connect with himself and who he was. I had this powerful feeling of being unwelcome again. I came here to connect with me and who I was. Why was I still here sitting with a man, who like me, just wanted to be alone?
My eyes connected with his again. Those silvery eyes blurred as if there was water in my eyes. I reached out to touch him to stabilize my vision, but my hand was drawn to the marking of my name within the wood. I looked up from the bench and the man was gone, the people through the clearing were gone, the sound of the dogs barking was gone, and the sun had gone down leaving only a yellow hue dispersed on the horizon.
“Shakespeare,” I repeated. Such a vivid memory as I traced my fingers against the rough surface of the carved trunk. “We met here.”
Damien stared back at me expectantly. I knew he wanted me to have remembered him in the vision, but it wasn’t him that I remembered at all. It was someone I felt I knew, trusted, but this was the only memory I had of him.
“Yes, we did,” Damien said, and as much as he tried to hide it, he was saving face. His eyes narrowed, knowing he wasn’t who I saw here. He wasn’t who I was referring to meeting here.
“I saw him…” I should have let it go, should have let him know without knowing. My eyes welled up with emotion and I would know those scars from anywhere, I would know that voice, that nickname, from anywhere, at any time. This was when I met Victor before he was Victor. He’d wandered into town, and he stayed…for me.
“Was it not me?” Damien rushed to my side, taking my fingers, once tracing my name, into his hands he caressed them one by one.
“No.” I felt so strange. A new feeling of longing coursed through my whole body. I was searching for something or, my heart stopped, someone other than my mother. I felt the shock in my heart to beat again and grabbed my chest in pain. I ground my teeth and squinted to look up at Damien. He wasn’t who I was searching for.
“This is where we first met, I remember every detail. What did you see?” If his heart pumped as mine did, it would seem as if it was breaking that I did not remember him.
“I did not see you at all. It was the time Aislin and I came here, and she first told me about memories stored in objects,” I lied. I couldn’t help it the words just flowed because they were easier and because I didn’t know who was telling the truth.
I didn’t trust anyone, not yet. The Dragon’s words still lingered in my mind. Not everyone who followed me was being truthful to me and eventually would lead to betrayal. Someone was lying, and someone was telling the truth. Victor lied to me, but he was paying a much higher price than he deserved.
“Really, you and Aislin came here together?” He smiled weakly, thankfully ignoring the blatant omission of the man I saw. Aislin wasn’t him.
“You didn’t know?” My heart stopped. I could feel the pang of everything slowing down. Who are you, Damien? “Who…” The words stopped in my throat.
“Crystal!” He placed his once-cold hands on my face. They felt warm, hot even, burning my skin. My limbs were like anchors weighing me down. He flopped me in his arms and I could feel the wind. I could smell the wind. Cinnamon…
CHAPTER NINETEEN
Doctor’s Notice
Time was so fickle; maybe it wasn’t before my time, but exactly my time. Like the waning moon, just my time to say goodbye. I feared I wouldn’t be making it around back to the waxing stage, the forming of a new moon.
“CRYSTAL!”
I looked up only to see more haze.
Misty forms, shapes, outlines of the world.
“IS THAT YOU?! CRYSTAL… Crystal.”
Aislin was calling for me. I felt a pressure around my body. A moisture from the mist dropped on my head, drenching my hair.
Damien’s strong arms were still around me, holding me steady.
I feared. Almost as much as the day my father left me at the bus station. And almost as scared as I was seeing the nightmare of his heart being ripped from his chest by the shadows.
A fear that if I stopped, for even a moment, I might not be able to continue on. As if there was a rope that kept me going and it was nearing the end of its length; I had to keep going…I was just hoping that if the momentum was still there that I might not need the rope anymore. But if I stopped…
With no rope left…
Would I be able to lift myself up again?
Best not to risk it, had to keep moving…but I wasn’t moving myself anymore. It was out of my control.
“Crystal, talk to me…say something…blink…anything.”
Was I out of rope? What luck…what misfortunate luck. With the blurs around me waving the surroundings, it made me dizzy, and I remembered this felt very similar to the astral plane.
I could feel the shadows calling to me, a haunting sensation pulsing through the necklace beating at my chest.
“Please…” Her voice was hysterical. “What have you done to her?” she accused the mountain that held me up.
“You’re her only hope. Please take care of her. I can’t bond with her like this, she has to want it, or it doesn’t work.” Damien’s voice hummed softly like a distant echo.
Sirens blasted and the pressure in my head wrecked through me.
“You can’t stay here. The neighbors called the police, and they can’t know you’re involved if there is any connection with the Council. I’ll deal with this.” Aislin’s gentle touch brushed the hair from my forehead.
My vision faded in and out, still hazy. I heard piercing beeps in my ears, which in any other situation would make me wince.
“She isn’t responsive, white as snow.”
I felt a burning sensation on my face, like fire. It burned! I wanted my reflexes to take over and retract away, but nothing.
“She’s icy. Please hurry.”
The smell of bleach and antiseptic filled my nose.
I am hanging…
Holding on to the last of my rope. Any movement could save me or have me spiraling into the darkness. Not even my reflexes were reacting.
Fear…
I stopped; unwillingly, I had stopped. Everything had stopped.
“I was so afraid…that someone… You’re alive—that’s all that matters, you’re going to be fine now. Just hang in there.
”
Hang in there…
Need to hold on. The mist was so strong, overbearing.
Suffocating.
“Let me hold your hand.” It called to me again. So distant before it was stronger now—a woman, not a man at all.
I reached out, and all I saw was a light. The moonlight. The voice wrapped around me like a blanket, comforting, and secure. In the pit of my stomach the falling sensation relaxed, and I knew it was all right. I wasn’t afraid anymore.
Even when the air left my lungs…gone…it’s gone…my air, but it didn’t seem to worry me.
“CRYSTAL! No! You just need to hang on.”
A weight, a heavy pressure upon my chest, and pain. Felt like my bones were breaking, as if I’d been trapped underground and the walls were collapsing on my body.
“NO! I won’t let you walk out on me!”
The glowing light returned from the mist and enveloped me. From the cavern a frayed piece of rope barely within reach appeared for me. Reaching out, I could touch it with my fingertips.
A little farther…
The light seemed so familiar.
Aislin—but different, more than Aislin. She wasn’t alone.
“Aislin.” My voice was rough as sandpaper; the grains of time had been forced down my throat to grant me a chance for survival. And the next question was: What was I surviving for?
My mother, Victor, Aislin, and maybe even Damien. No, it wasn’t for any of them. It was for me, it was for a future. I didn’t know what that future was, but inexplicably I wanted one. I wanted to know what one would look like, and what that might be. Would I be like my mother, hunting monsters in the night to keep the balance? Would I be like Victor, learning what it meant to be a serpent? Maybe Aislin would teach me more about her religion to the moon, and her connection with the energy around her? I was a dreamwalker, and I was connected to all of it.
“Good, stay with me.”
I needed more time to understand. Reaching out for the rope I grasped her hand. Like electricity, her hand sent bolts of energy through my circuits. At once damned by magic, now saved by it.
