by Lola StVil
“Exactly.”
“Where are the seven stones? Where did Rye’s family hide them?”
“That’s the thing, all Rye knows is that they are somewhere in Whisper. But he doesn’t know where. I think they kept that from him so that he didn’t have to carry the burden of knowing the location of the stones in addition to helping you kill the horsemen.”
“His parents tried to protect him,” I whisper.
“Yes, that’s also why they cloaked this town so that it’s not easily accessed. But the Infinity group created Slip Demons, who keep track anytime a portal is opened. Then they run and try to intercept it so they can get here and find the stones.”
“That’s what Maya was running from when I saw her in the forest, right?”
“Yes, Slip Demons are always hanging around, looking for a way to get into this town.”
I lean against the wall and pinch the bridge of my nose. A woman I assume is our teacher approaches the door and goes to step inside, stopping to glare at us. She looks like a bird, her hair pinned up into a bun, her glasses slipping to the edge of her nose. She has blue eyes with age wrinkles framing them. Honestly, I think this woman could make any kid scared shitless with just one look.
Before she can say anything, Mel touches her arm gently and whispers, “We’ll be right in, Mrs. Wimble, you have class to start.”
“Oh, I have class to start. See you inside, girls!” Mrs. Wimble says, all cheery with a smile before turning back to the classroom, the door sliding shut behind her, sealing Mel and me in the hallway together.
“Dude, that was really cool,” I say, still a little shaken.
I mean, it was cool but also really freaking creepy. She shrugs.
“It’s just a thing. Don’t think too much about it. Besides, I did it to check in on you. Are you okay?”
Right. I had stopped and pretty much collapsed against the wall in a dramatic heap a moment ago. That would signal some kind of distress. But it seems like every time I think I am figuring out what’s happening to me, a new damn issue presents itself.
“It’s a lot. This whole thing is just…a lot,” I admit.
“Yeah, kind of makes you miss being worried about finals, right?”
“Yeah, I never thought I’d say this but I would kill for a chem or bio test right now.”
“Don’t worry, we are here to help you sort it out. First, you have to decide if you are in or not. You will need to know by midnight like Nexus said.”
“Oh yeah, the horse that will give me a rose. I think that chick is high.”
Mel laughs and says, “Yeah, I can see that. But she’s never wrong. If she says a horse will give you a rose, then that’s most likely what will happen. She has very strong foresight.”
“She’s never wrong?”
“No. And man does she like to brag about it.”
I’m starting to feel a bit better when I catch a flash of sandy hair and a perfect body. Rye.
“I’ll be right back,” I say to Mel.
I take off after him, ignoring anything Mel might have been about to say. Hopefully, she went into class. Maybe she can magic Mrs. Wimble into giving me an extension. This is turning out to be a great start to my first day. First, I arrive on a fucking wave, and now I’m skipping my first class.
“Rye,” I call out.
I am worried he can’t or doesn’t want to hear me, but then he stops and dips his head back before he turns to face me. It hits me again how attracted to him I am. Something tightens in my stomach and sets my legs on fire.
“Hey,” he says when I am right in front of him.
I’m close enough that I have to take one comforting step back to give us a little space. Swallowing my unease, I mutter a quick apology, but he doesn’t hear it the first time.
“I’m sorry. About earlier. I didn’t mean to hurt your feelings.”
He doesn’t say anything right away. He just looks at me, his eyes burning through me. I can’t hold his gaze because he makes me too nervous and these desires are stirred. Like, what would kissing him be like? What would his hair feel like in my fingers? Finally, he softens his shoulders but not his glare.
“It’s fine. Nothing to be sorry for. Everyone dies eventually.”
There may be a blaze roaring in his eyes, but his words are arctic cold. He’s in pain and it’s all my fault. I have to fix this, and here I was thinking he was being a dick. I am such an idiot.
“You know I only have a few hours left to decide if I am going to play my part in all of this. It would be nice to let off some steam. Maybe have a little fun? So, Rye, what do you guys do for fun around here?”
He sizes me up and then smiles, but it’s wicked and I am wondering if I should be regretting even asking. Never mind the horsemen and the end of the world. I’m in trouble right here, right now.
Just act normal. Be yourself. I mean, if he doesn’t like you for you then to hell with him. What am I thinking? This isn’t a date!
I look in my standing mirror one more time and spin side to side. I’m not usually one for wearing a dress, but this one is gray with long sleeves that sweep out wide around my wrists. It hangs to my knees and I get to sport some fuzzy soft leggings that I tucked into a pair of lace black boots and knee-high socks. Gotta layer up here. It’s not exactly summer weather.
I know it isn’t a date but it feels like it is. I didn’t actually expect Rye to even have anything fun planned, but a carnival? And, it’s the only time we can go because the carnival is only in for the weekend. A knock on the door has me scrambling to fix myself before my dad comes in and puts two and two together. If he so much as sniffs “date” in my demeanor I’ll never hear the end of it.
“Hey, Biscuit. You look beautiful. What’s the special occasion?”
“Just going to the carnival that’s in town with some classmates. Remember the friends I met the night we were rained in?”
“Right. So I take it your first day went well then?”
“Actually, my first day was a washout,” I say and chuckle softly to myself. He scratches beside his nose, looking ready to give me a full dad lecture of sorts. “What?” I ask him.
“Nothing.”
“And what about your day, old man? How is the new job?”
His smile and the sudden light in his eyes are all I need for an answer. He’s beaming.
“It was great. I mean, I really think this was a good move, Biscuit. Yeah, I think we are going to do just fine here in Whisper.”
I’m starting to think so too. I mean it sure hasn’t been the snooze fest I was expecting. And now I have a date (not a date) with the hottest guy in school (not a guy, a god).
“So, how are you getting to this carnival then?” Dad asks.
Oh. Shit. We didn’t arrange for anyone to pick me up. Ugh. I wince but I can tell by the way Dad asked he was inviting himself. I didn’t plan on a chaperone for tonight.
“Do you think you could drive me?”
“Sure! I hope they have turkey legs. Carnivals always have the best turkey legs!”
Great. Chaperone it is then.
Ten minutes later we are loaded up in the car and on our way into town. Rye said the carnival would be held on Main Street and to prepare for a big showing from the locals. Crowds aren’t my jam, but if I get to spend the evening with Rye…
“This must be it,” Dad mumbles as he pulls onto the grass beside a storefront, behind a row of cars.
People flood the street, all heading toward the flashing lights and music.
“Okay, well. Thanks for the ride.”
Dad cuts off the engine and climbs out of the car behind me and I curse under my breath. So full-on chaperone. Perfect.
“Here,” he says and hands me a few crisp twenties.
“I know you don’t want to be seen with your dear ol’ dad. I’ll make a deal with you, Biscuit. You go have fun. Text me when you are ready to leave. K?”
“Thank you, Dad. You have no idea how awesome you ar
e right now.”
It’s nice to see Dad out and about instead of locking himself up in his room for hours on end. He has really come alive since we arrived in Whisper.
I look around. Rye wasn’t kidding. The line of people flooding toward the carnival was nothing compared to the horde inside the place. They have taped off side streets and blocked any way for traffic to get through. Anyone that needed to would have to go around the city center to get to their destination, but I don’t think that will be a problem. It looks like the whole population of Whisper is present. The scent of buttery popcorn and roasted hotdogs permeate the air, the staples of carnie food.
And then it hits me. Exactly how it’s gone down since I got here. I mean, who finds out that they have to save the world from evil and then asks a guy on a date? Me apparently. Yup, I’m just that stupid. How could I have done that?
Okay, Sailor, this is no time to go into self-doubt mode. Chances are you will be dead soon, so date while you can.
I laugh to myself, gaining a strange look from a family stuffing their mouths with pink and blue cotton candy.
Looking around I start to worry that I won’t ever find Rye in the sea of bodies, but then I catch sight of him. I smile and start to wave on tiptoes when I notice six familiar forms around him. He brought the whole deity crew. My heart sinks a little.
It’s fine. It’s not like this was a date. Except I thought it was. Okay, change of plans. It’s just friends hanging out together. I can do that. They see me and file over.
“Hi,” Rye says, his eyes locked on me, unblinking.
I shift nervously under his gaze.
“Hey,” I manage back, my heart thrumming in my ears.
Aziza looks at us and rolls her eyes, putting one hand on her hip.
“I could be researching, or training, or hell, doing anything besides being here on Main Street with you idiots. What are we doing, Rye? Partying? We have no business wasting time at parties when the world is about to end.”
Ugh. She’s such a buzzkill.
“Damn, Az, maybe pull the stick out of your...Az.” Jinx chuckles and ducks as Aziza rakes a hand in his direction.
“Jinx,” Rye warns.
“What? She’s so uptight.”
I mean he’s not wrong.
“Somebody has to remain vigilant, especially since—” Rye starts but Aziza scoffs, interrupting him.
“Don’t defend me. I can hold my own. I don’t need anyone to defend me, ever.”
“Aziza, you’re right. Sorry,” Rye says evenly.
“You seem to be sorry about a lot of things,” Aziza quips as she storms off.
I watch her retreating form, picturing the scowl set on her brow. Is there something between them? It sure felt like Rye and Aziza had some tension there.
The others drift away, leaving Rye alone with me. I take a breath and lean into him.
God, why does he have to look so hot and turn my knees to Jello? It’s even hard to breathe naturally around him.
Get your shit together, Sailor. Start talking or something. You know, like a normal person.
“So, you brought the whole gang, huh?” I whisper only for him.
“Well, yeah, everyone likes to hang out on Main Street. Is that a problem?” he asks.
“What? No, whatever,” I say with a little shrug.
My voice is a little too sing-songy for my liking. He will be able to see right through my bullshit. Rye stops and brushes his fingers across his lips. The lips I want my lips to brush. Stop it, Sailor. The alarm on his face sends my heart skittering again.
“Did you think this was a—” Rye starts.
“What? A date? No,” I reply, forcing out a laugh. “I would never date you.”
What the hell did I say that for?
“Oh,” he says.
“I mean…”
“No, I get it. I’m sure you have plenty of options,” he says, his eyes hardening like they did at school.
I would be feeling guilty but his words slap me in the face. He might as well have called me a whore, which of course sparks my smartass fuse.
“I do. I am shuffling guys as we speak.”
“You just moved here,” he gently reminds me.
“Ever heard of the internet? It so happens that my dazzle is global. I’m wanted all over.”
I can see him getting angrier but instead of saying anything he growls and turns away from me, muttering a slew of swears under his breath. If he would just turn around and look at me.
Mel and Sunday return, followed by the rest of the gorgeous misfits. Heaven on Earth in one group of hot as hell individuals, and I am currently at the center of their world. They all return, except Aziza. I will definitely have to follow up that lead. If there is something between her and Rye, I don’t want to be stepping on anyone’s toes. Sunday munches on handful after handful of popcorn, and as usual, Mel takes the lead on talking.
“So, we know it isn’t official yet, your acceptance in all of this, but we are happy to report that we may have a lead on the dagger.”
I can’t look at Rye. It hurts too much. I mean, he basically shut me down a minute ago.
“That’s great. I’ll get the info later, gonna go check out the handmade jewelry at that booth,” I say, pointing at a table decked out with hundreds of different pieces, some gaudy, some eclectic, hoping it’s enough to break away from them, even though we just met up.
I stalk off toward the table. As I approach the table, I catch a glimpse of Rye coming toward me in a mirror the seller has placed among a pile of necklaces and bangles. Trembling, I turn my attention to the woman selling the jewelry.
“Hello,” I say.
She grins, showing a row of stained teeth.
“Hello, dear.”
“Well well, Stella. What have you got overpriced for us today?”
Ya-Ya appears beside me, looking down at the rings with clear disgust.
“I remember you. What’s your name? Yo-Yo? Oh, no, Ya-Ya. Yes, you’re the girl with the big mouth who likes to ruin my chance at making a sale. Listen, honey, that quartz bangle you bought was authentic. I don’t care who you had look at it.”
“Don’t trust her, Sailor. She will rip you off in a heartbeat.”
I am dragged away by Ya-Ya before I can even apologize to the poor woman, and I find myself in front of a booth of lye soaps, each carved into intricate designs. A banner behind a man offering samples reads “Whisper Police Department—Support Blue.”
“Hey there. Care for a sample, dear?”
“Oh, no thank you,” I start.
“Hey, Chief,” Jinx says, and a spark of recognition crosses the man’s eyes.
“Be careful who you run around with, honey. You might be new in town, but I wouldn’t suggest falling into the wrong crowd,” the chief says to me.
“How did you know I’m new here?” I stammer.
“I’m chief of police, Richard Pollard, dear, and I know all my citizens in Whisper. Just like I know you and your dad just arrived. How are you two settling in by the way?”
“Just fine, thank you, sir.”
“Don’t mock me, honey. You take your sirs to someone who gives a damn. Now, if you don’t mind, I am trying to raise money for the station. You hooligans aren’t helping business at all. Stay out of trouble. Mind you, little lady, you run around with Jinx and company, you will get to know me and mine very well.”
“Come on, we have several booths to look at, Sailor,” Sunday mumbles, pushing me along.
Jinx leans in and whispers in my ear, “Chief Pollard is a real ass.”
“Yeah, I kinda gathered. What’s his deal?”
“He hates teens. Actually, I think he hates all kids in general. He doesn’t seem to have a specific age range he targets his hate on,” Grace adds.
The next booth has several hand-carved boxes and incense holders. All are beautiful with geometric shapes and designs. I stop to study them, and when I look up again all that is left of the grou
p is Rye, who is staring at me hard, his expression unreadable.
“What?”
“I just wish we could have a do-over. Of earlier. Hell, I wish I could have a do-over of when we met actually.”
“Why, so you could be a little less of a jerk?”
He laughs a real genuine laugh, which surprises me. I was starting to wonder if he only had two moods: serious and angry.
“No, I’d still be a jerk, but I’d have worn a better shirt.”
“As long as you keep the body...damn.”
My eyes grow huge as the realization of my words strike me. Oh my god. I really said that out loud. He laughs again, softer now. I relax and we start walking toward the shrieks and shrill screams of carnival riders at the heart of this mess.
“So, you like my body?”
I almost stumble.
“I, well, I mean, God, look at you!”
“You know you look pretty damn amazing too.”
Okay, I’m not going to think too hard into that. He’s clearly just trying to be nice. Returning the compliment and all that.
“But you wouldn’t date me?” he adds.
My heart pinches in my chest and I want to run and hide.
“I didn’t mean that. I mean, I would have to know you before I could decide if I wanted to, you know...go out with you.”
Damn, I’d date you. I’d date you so hard. No doubt there. Despite what I just said.
I lick my lips, which have suddenly gone very, very dry. His hand slips into mine, as natural as if we’ve done it every day of our lives.
“I keep asking myself something,” he mumbles.
“Yeah?”
“Yeah. Why are you the Paradox?”
What a strange question. Does he expect me to know the answer? Because if he does, he’s going to be disappointed.
“Uh, because you guys told me I am?”
“Yeah, I know, but what makes you, specifically, the Paradox? What is it about you that you are the chosen one?”
I can’t tell if he is asking me seriously or metaphorically. I mean, honestly, whichever one it is, I can’t answer him. And, I don’t want to admit it out loud, but I don’t really want to sit and ponder all the implications of this. The three requirements echo in my head, and I say them out loud.
