by KB Benson
Her t-shirt rises with the movement, exposing bare skin that my fingertips brush with excitement. I try to stay casual, like I’m not totally interested in that bit of skin, but I am. My fingers trace a path across the little stripe of skin and back onto her hip, making my way down to her thigh. I rest my hand on the front of her leg, waiting for her to make the next move.
Iris’ body is frozen in my arms. With a slow breath, she pulls my hand across her waist, holding onto it in front of her stomach. Her chest rises and falls as she breathes. Using my other hand, I tuck a stray strand of Iris’ hair behind her ear.
Iris peeks up at me, her teeth catching her bottom lip. She stares into my eyes before resting her forehead against mine. The pull is so strong toward her: I have to kiss her. Our lips are mere centimeters apart, her breath warm against my skin. Her eyes close, and her lips brush the corner of my lips gently. She pulls away, looking directly into my eyes, into my soul again.
The movie forgotten, I challenge her. “You’re playing with me, aren’t you?”
Iris laughs. “Me? Playing with you? I would never.”
Taking Iris’ face between my hands, I lead her face back to my lips. When our lips press together Iris’ body freezes, only her lips moving across mine. It’s slow and her tongue lightly touches the edge of my bottom lip. Fire burns through me; and I wonder if it burns through her, too. My hands fall from her face and wrap around her body, finding another bit of exposed skin across her back; and I pull her closer into me. She doesn’t seem to mind as I let my fingers play with the hem of her shirt, brushing her warm skin. Iris’ fingers knot in my hair and she presses herself against me. Our labored breaths fill the small space between us.
Before I would've liked, Iris pulls away. She rests her head back onto my chest and faces the movie, focusing on the flashing images again. I take deep breaths calming myself from Iris’ kiss, the fire still trailing through my blood.
The rest of the movie passes in a blur to me, but Iris loves it. When the credits roll, she can’t stop raving about it. I check my watch.
“Holy cow, it’s midnight already.”
“Wow, tonight went by too fast,” Iris says.
“We should probably get you home.”
Iris presses herself deeper into my side and mumbles, “Probably.”
I stroke her hair, letting the strands fall through my fingers again, producing my craving. Iris doesn’t move and I don’t dare either. She closes her eyes, resting her head on my lap as I flip the movie off, plunging the room into darkness. I rub Iris’ back; and, within a few minutes, her breaths grow steady, the only movement the slow rise and fall of her chest. My hand moves from Iris’ hair down to her back where I gently rub up and down. Within a few minutes, Iris’ breaths grow steady; and she doesn’t move except for the slow rise and fall of her chest. Gently I lift her head off my lap.
“Jace,” she whispers, “don’t leave me alone.”
Instead of slipping in behind her, I re-spread the blanket across her slender frame, tucking it around her.
“Never,” I whisper, unsure if she actually hears me. Grabbing a pillow and another blanket, I lie down on the floor next to her.
A thunderous pounding slogs me from my dreams. Propping myself up on my elbow, I rub the sleep from my eyes. Iris lies unconscious on the couch, her tousled hair covering her face. My mouth forms a smile as I recall last night’s events.
Other pounding bangs against the door, and I jump. I pull myself out from my makeshift bed, untangling blankets from my feet. I open the door a crack, trying not to let too much light in from the rising sun. For a moment I’m blinded by the sunlight, but all too soon two police officers come into view.
“Hey, kid,” the officer on the left, Officer Brody, says. “You Jace Jacobsen?”
I nod, confused. “Yeah, what’s going on?”
“We’re going to need you to come down to the station with us for questioning about the disappearance of Stewart Battingshaw.”
“Who?” I ask, sincerely confused in my groggy mind.
“Stewart Battingshaw,” he says again.
My stomach sinks. They think I’m involved since I’d hit him the night he disappeared. I punched him over the girl who’s fast asleep in my apartment.
“Oh, okay,” I say. “Let me just, uh, grab my shoes and a jacket. I’ll be right out, officers.”
I close the door softly, and race back to Iris’ sleeping form. I rub her shoulder, the smile of dreams erasing from her lips as she returns to reality.
When her eyes flutter open, I speak in hurried whispers. “Iris, I need you to come to the back room with me.”
“What?” she asks. “Good morning.”
“Good morning, Beautiful. C’mon, I need you to come with me.”
I help lift Iris off the couch and lead her back to my bedroom. She sits on my bed, hair unkempt from sleep, while I throw on a pair of tennis shoes and grab my jacket.
“I’m so sorry to bring this up,” I say frantic. “But the cops are here to question me about Stewart’s disappearance.”
Iris’ eyes bulge, all sleep erasing from her. “What?” she asks incredulously. “Why would they think you had anything to do with it?”
“Because I beat him up at that club. He disappeared just after. Iris, I promise you, I’m not involved in this mess at all. I have nothing to hide and the police will know that soon.”
Iris nods. “I believe you.”
“I’m sorry I have to bail on you, but you’re welcome to eat anything in the cupboards for breakfast and stay as long as you want. I’ll be back as soon as I can.”
Iris nods again. “Be safe, Jace.”
“Always.” I lean in and kiss Iris’ forehead.
Rushing back to the front door, I swing it open just as the other officer, Officer Kau, checks his watch. “You certainly took your time.”
“Hey, you’re the ones who woke me up at the break of dawn. I’m a little sluggish.” I did nothing wrong.
Chapter 25
IRIS
Soon after Jace leaves, I follow. I’m not hungry; there’s too much for me to do today. The clouds that rolled into town last night hang dark and heavy above my head, threatening a torrent of rain any second. I bury my fists deeper into my pockets—today this all ends.
This will never end, a voice says, pushing its way into my head. This is who you are; this is who I am. We are unchangeable. I give my head one hard shake, trying to remove the thoughts.
Not anymore, I contradict. I am different. I’ve already changed.
I’ve never been to Jaxon’s house before, but I know where it is. My prey, they call to me. Jaxon’s pull guides me to wherever he is. This pull, this addictive dragging of my very essence, used to be something I craved. When I was first selected as a charge over our clan in the early 1900s, I was told how invigorating, how rejuvenating, how delicious it was to feel that pull leading your yearning body to your prey. And it was. The pleasure that came from complete control over another sentient being, complete control over a man, complete control to get what you want even to death.
I try not to think of the pull as I feel it now: a trap, a curse—guilt in its highest form. Reflexively, I touch my upper arms; they sting against the pressure of my hand. Bruises, evidence of Stewart’s struggle.
“Why are you crying?” his voice echoes in my memory, a demon I can’t hide from. A flash pierces my mind: us floating in the water—his face happy, in love.
I don’t answer him, the tears just stream down my cheeks. I float closer to him, our breath fogging around us into the night sky. He brushes the tear from my cheek, a small, practically unnoticeable shock extending from his finger to me. He gazes at me lovingly, his eye a bit swollen from where Jace had hit him.
That’s why I’m doing this, I remind myself. I am doing this for Jace.
Just then, as I knew it would, Stewart is struck from behind. He cries out, reaching for me. “Iris! There’s something in the water.”
Sorrow touches my face, but I never break focus.
“Iris?” Fear drips from Stewart’s voice. “Iris, you need to get out of the water.”
Even still he tries to protect me, his enemy. Tears stream down in currents across my face, creating ripples in the waves surrounding me.
“Iris?” He’s struck again; this time his cry rips from his throat in anguish as he’s tugged under the water. The gurgle of murder swallowed up in the darkest chamber of Hell.
Just as I’m about to return to the beach, Stewart’s body lurches from the crests of the waves. He reaches out for me, hands grasping my arm. He holds on so tightly; I can barely find where his fingers meet my skin to rip him off. When his hands slide from my arm, he re-grips onto my shoulder.
“Save me!” he cries. I pull his fingers from my shoulder, slowly releasing him back into the ocean. His face fills with desperation and terror. “Please,” he whispers. “Save me.”
With that final plea, Asthen’s tail pierces his chest from behind. I cover my mouth as blood pours into the water until his body is once again dragged under the waves.
It’s hard to breathe as though something has died inside of me, a piece of my heart literally breaking off and disintegrating. Grief overwhelms me as I pull myself out of the ocean, dragging my body across the beach.
My eyes refocus as I come back to reality. After today, this is finished.
A twinge of guilt sparks in my chest for planting my old silver scarf in the crime scene where Stewart disappeared. The scarf has Jace’s prints all over it, but it’s not enough to hold him. Just as it was not enough to hold me. But it will certainly keep him occupied while I focus on my task today.
Besides, with Stewart gone, Jace has some of his freedom back. If Damion truly keeps his word, Jace’s pull to my song, to me, won’t be as strong.
Soon I find myself standing in front of a faded green door. Specks of paint flake off around the edges proving years of neglect. I take a deep breath. If I have to take one more life, it might as well be Jaxon’s. I rap on the door three times and put my smile on, tilting my head to the side slightly.
Jaxon opens the door. “Oh. Hello,” he says in surprise. “I didn’t—are we…?”
I nod, shrugging shyly. “Well, I just figured it’s Saturday; and if you weren’t doing anything, maybe we could get a head start on our project.”
Jaxon looks taken aback, but I know he won’t refuse my proposal. They never do. A part of me cracks inside; sometimes I wish they did.
“Well, come on in then.” Jaxon swings the door wide for me to step through. He leads me to the kitchen, wringing his hands together. “Are you alright if we just work in here?”
“Of course.” I smile.
“Awesome. I’m just going to go grab my stuff real quick, and then we can start.”
“Sounds good,” I say.
Just as I sit at the table, the kitchen door swings open. A young woman walks in and buries her head in the fridge. Awkwardly, I wait for her to realize she’s not alone. She closes the door to the fridge and takes a long swig from a Coca Cola can. Leaping back, the woman nearly drops her can as she gasps in surprise.
“Oh my!” she juggles her can, catching it just before it splatters to the ground. “I’m so sorry.”
“No, I’m sorry,” I say. “I didn’t mean to frighten you. I’m just waiting for Jaxon.”
“Oh? For Jaxon?” The woman takes staggered breaths. “I don’t know if he’s told me about you.” Now she seems overly interested—she must be his mother.
“I’m just a friend,” I say. “We have an art project coming up, so we thought we’d work on it today.”
“Oh.” She nods… and nods and nods.
“I’m Iris, by the way,” I say to break the awkward silence and head nodding.
“I’m Penny.” She stretches out her hand and takes mine, giving me a gentle pat on the top of it.
Jaxon skids to a halt as he pushes through the kitchen door. His pale face explodes in a bright shade of red under his greasy black hair. “Mom,” he hisses, “let go of her hand!”
His mom releases my hand and smiles, unabashed. “You two have fun. I’ll just—I’ll just be upstairs.”
Jaxon collapses into a chair next to me as his mom tiptoes out of the room. “Did she say anything to you? Anything weird?”
“Weird?” I ask. “No, she was really nice.”
Jaxon sighs. “Good. Sometimes she can be, well, different.”
“What do you mean different?”
Jaxon stares at his thin eyebrows as though trying to put his words together. “Like her social skills are a little off. Ever since her accident, I never know what to expect.”
“Her accident?” I can’t help but ask. I shouldn’t ask. Haven’t I learned yet that you never ask about your prey’s personal life?
“Yeah. About nine months ago she was in a car accident coming home from a trip in Washington. A piece of pipe went through the driver’s side window and punctured her head. I don’t know what happened on the scene, just that when I got the call, they were life flighting her to the nearest hospital. Luckily, she’s okay besides some minor brain damage. The courts found her fit to still let me live here.” Jaxon shrugs like it’s not that big of a deal. “I couldn’t bear leaving my mom on her own with no family.”
A hollow pit sinks in my stomach. Be strong. It’s almost over, the voice returns to my thoughts.
“It’s weird, you know? I feel like I can tell you anything,” Jaxon says.
“I know,” I whisper.
“Anyway.” Jaxon shakes his head. “Shall we?”
“Yeah.” Anything to help me forget that little detail about his life.
“So, what’s a ‘cult of personality’?” Jaxon asks. “I was kind of confused when Ms. James was explaining it.”.
I flip through some of the pages in the textbook Jaxon brought down until I find what I’m looking for. “Here we go. A cult of personality: when one uses mass media or propaganda to create a heroic or worshipful image often through praise.”
“So, like someone wearing a mask to pretend they’re someone they’re not to get other people to like them?” Jaxon asks.
“I guess.” A pang of guilt stabs at my heart as this is something I know all too well. For our project, there’d be no better example of a cult of personality than to just put me on display.
“Alright, let’s go with that. Do you have any ideas?”
We spend most of the day brainstorming ways to depict a cult of personality. After hours of our ideas going nowhere, Jaxon leans back in his chair. He runs his fingers through his stringy hair and covers his eyes.
“We have no idea, but at least we know our medium,” I say. Surprisingly, Jaxon is a sculptor, which makes the actual implementation of our idea—if we ever come up with one—a breeze. Not that it matters. We won’t actually ever get to making it.
“But with no idea, who cares?” Jaxon moans.
I chew my bottom lip, nervous for what comes next. “How about we come back to it later? We need a break.”
Jaxon mulls the thought over and soon nods his head in agreement. “Yeah, sounds good.”
I don’t stand; I can’t leave yet. I need Jaxon to come with me. I reach out and rest my hand on top of his. His body stiffens underneath it.
“How about we go on a walk and get a little fresh air?” I ask.
His breath shortens, and he looks like a deer caught in headlights. “You want to go on a walk… with me?”
I nod, smiling. “Of course—just to get some air.”
He nods nervously, standing from his seat.
We lead him outside toward the beach. The clouds still loom overhead, but the rain can only help us now. At this point, I can use all the help I can get.
“It looks like it might start pouring soon; this is odd weather we’ve been having lately. It normally doesn’t rain this much,” Jaxon says, searching for conversation.
; “Yeah, it’s weird. Let’s just do a short walk. The fresh air will do us good.”
“Yeah, okay.”
We walk to the beach, the streets barren. The harvest moon’s pull tugs less on me as it guides me to the ocean—the full moon is almost over. We walk in silence; but Jaxon glances at me a few times, staring at the beauty of my curse. The stormier it gets, the stronger my beauty becomes.
“Iris? I have a question for you,” Jaxon says, breaking the silence.
“What’s up?”
“Aren’t you dating that one kid at school? The one who’s on the surf team?”
I can’t lie; of course I am. “Yes.”
“So, what are you doing with me?”
“We can’t be friends?” I ask, softly. Please say no, please say no and turn away from me.
“Oh, yeah we can be friends.” Jaxon smiles, real happiness flooding his features.
We reach the beach, stepping onto the soft, smooth sand. Jaxon gazes at the sky again. “Do you think we should head back?”
“We still have time. Let’s just sit here for a little bit.”
I find a comfy place on the beach to sit and pat the sand next to me. Jaxon takes my hand’s place. The wind blows around us, tugging my hair away from my face. I start humming into the breeze, a pure melody leaping from my voice.
“Do you sing?” Jaxon asks.
I nod, slowly, knowing if I sing for him, then I have to go through with this.
“That’s a great talent. You should sing for me.” Jaxon fidgets with something in his pocket.
Without saying anything, I pick up my humming again.
“When the darkness comes
It’ll be too late,
There’s nothing to stop one
From their well-deserved fate.”
Jaxon’s eyes glaze over, his face locked onto me.
“Disappear,
The subtly gone,
The time is near,
It won’t be long.
“Come with me, my love,
Leave your doubts aground,
Come with me and see above
Where no weakness, fear, or pain is found.”
