Authors: Dana Michelle Belle
“I
guess.” I answer uncertainly. I didn’t mean it to be a date, it’s just Justin.
Surely everyone knows that. I play the quick conversation with Justin over in
my mind; the nerves in my voice, my awkward phrasing, the long, long pause
before he answered. Crap.
“Very well,
but let’s consider this as a test of responsibility and good decision making
skills. Impress me Rebecca.” She tucks a stray strand of hair out of my eyes,
having a rare maternal impulse, “I think Justin is a good choice for you. He’s
very solid and reliable. Have a good time.”
I’m not
sure how it happened but I find myself in my bedroom trying to find the perfect
outfit to convey, ‘I’m interested in an incorporeal man, so this isn’t really a
date date’ which, naturally, is impossible. All the sexy party clothes that
Mandy made me buy send absolutely the wrong message. On the other end of the
spectrum, my normal yoga pants and t-shirts can’t really be worn to a party. I
empty my closet and stack the clothes into two high piles on my bed. Finally, I
pick the new black skirt that seems only marginally sexy but is, admittedly,
both short and form fitting. I add one of the new tops that shows a little much
in the way of cleavage but at least it isn’t sheer or sparkly. Inwardly I curse
myself for ever letting Mandy stock my closets.
The upside
is that dead circles of ravens haven’t entered my thoughts most of the
afternoon. I twirl in the mirror, checking to see that the scar on my thigh
remains covered; it does. The effect of the outfit is kind of pretty, even if
it isn’t my normal style. I wink at the mirror, hoping that Ephraim is still
watching, even if he can’t communicate yet.
A faint creak
catches my attention and I peer at the mirror curiously, “Ephraim?” I step
toward the mirror, trying to feel Ephraim’s presence in the room. For one
fleeting second I think I can feel him, and then a wave of terror sweeps over
me. I can feel something else too; something dark and unnatural is in the room.
The mirror groans and a crack appears at the top, and spreads like a fault line
down the mirror. I scramble backward from it. The mirror explodes, sending a
cascade of razor edged shrapnel rocketing across my room. I dive away from it,
landing on the other side of the bed, protected by the wall of clothes I’ve
built up. A shower of glass rains down on my head and neck, cutting tiny
grooves into my skin.
I keep my
body very still once the shower of glass ends. Careful not to kneel on the
glass, I lift myself up slowly. The mirror is blown out and black. Slivers of
glass now carpet the floor. I’m in bare feet, so any movement; no matter how
small will drive glass into my feet.
Thrown
carelessly across my bed are a pair of delicate sandals, which are more strap
than shoe but they’d provide some protection from the glass. I strain to reach
them without raising my feet, my fingertips just brushing them. I lean forward
and hook them, sliding them toward me until I can grab them.
My feet now
protected, I back into the door way, surveying my room. The carpet, bed, desk
and dresser are all carpeted with a fine spray of glass. Now what? Either I can
run away from here, out there with the murder of birds, or I can clean this
mess up.
I sweep
carefully, glancing nervously around me. My skin crawls with the sensation that
someone, or something else is near. Every moment I’m in the room I have to
fight to remain calm. It doesn’t take very long to clean up the most obvious
glass, the rest can wait.
I glance
over at the pile of outfits. My current threads are far sexier than I ever
anticipated wearing to a party with Justin, but I’ve lost my taste for dress up
completely. I decide just to head over to his place, even if I am early and
overdressed.
I’m just belting
into the driver’s seat when I see Buick standing in the driveway, tail pumping
like mad, something large and black in his mouth. “No, Buick!” I shout. “Nasty.
Bad. Drop it. Drop it Buick!” I command. Buick trots past me with the bird in
his mouth and crosses the lawn to the circle of birds, placing his crow
gingerly into formation with the other birds. He turns shining eyes to me, tail
wagging, sitting proudly before his work. I gulp and slam the door, hard.
Justin isn’t quite
ready, his mom tells me pleasantly, when I get there. So I fidget on the living
room couch, becoming ever more aware that we are enacting a dating archetype.
Justin’s mom is sweet, plump and extremely maternal. She’s kind and
well-meaning and talks to me like I matter as a person. On any given day I
would trade families with Justin, except I wouldn’t wanted to saddle him with
mine.
Sitting
quietly waiting for Justin gives me time to worry. Why hasn’t Ephraim
reappeared yet? What’s taking so long? We haven’t been apart this long since I
died. Something has to be wrong.
Justin
clears his throat from the doorway. I jump to my feet and then check myself.
Justin is dressed in the dark, button-down style of shirt that he knows I like,
unbuttoned enough to give a glimpse of his strong neck and well formed collar
bones. His sleeves are rolled up, revealing muscled forearms. His hair is
slicked back and the smell of aftershave and cool, tangy cologne fills the air.
He’s taller than I realized and, honestly, kind of hot. How had I never
realized that before?
He waits
for me to take in his transformation, his eyes sweeping over me as he does so.
“Nice,” he says approvingly and walks into the room.
I try to
recover my senses but I’m still reeling from the day’s events. Chatting with
Derrick, grinning cats, accidentally asking out my best friend, realizing he turned
good looking while I wasn’t paying attention, it’s all one confusing blur in my
thoughts. “You like?” Justin asks with a grin, and does a little turn for me.
“You’ll do,”
I retort, falling back on our old banter for some stability.
“You too,” he
says in his smoothest and most provocative tone. He holds out his arm to me.
“Shall we go?”
Chapter 7: Festivities
The drive over to
Mandy’s house is excruciating and wonderful at the same time. Justin is
charming and flirty in the gentle, teasing way I’ve seen him use with other
girls, but never with me. He smells amazing and I keep sneaking sly little
looks over at him. When he catches me looking he winks and grins his old,
reassuring grin at me. I’m feeling the Justin Effect pretty strongly.
On the
other hand I’m twisting with guilt and anxiety. He isn’t some random boy. He’s
my Justin; my lifelong best friend. And I’m no expert but what’s happening here
could ruin all that pretty quickly.
Still,
standing with the cool evening grass lapping my toes, gazing up at the spill of
bright lights streaming out of Mandy’s six bedroom mini-mansion, all I can
focus on is how happy Justin seems and how little happiness I’ve brought anyone
lately.
Mandy’s
house is pulsing with bodies, heat and sound. The impression of chaos that hits
me as soon as the doors swing open is overwhelming. We press ourselves in,
trying to thread through the crowd. Justin, ahead of me, reaches behind him and
takes my hand, to keep us from becoming separated, just as he always does in
large crowds. This time, however, a warm, self-consciousness spreads through
me.
The sensation
of holding his hand is briefly all I can think about, so I miss the faces as we
weave through the crowd. My eyes are trained on Justin’s muscled back and
shoulders as he moves us toward Mandy.
Mandy is
holding court in the dining room, which has been cleared of all its furniture
and set up with sound equipment, lights and a bar, probably all rented by her
parents. They’re more the credit card than quality time parents. The space
around Mandy is a little less congested but Justin doesn’t let go of my hand as
the crowd thins and I don’t pull away.
As we come closer,
Mandy raises one eyebrow in that dainty questioning look she practices for
these occasions. “Hello Becka and
Justin,
” she says, placing far too
much emphasis on his name. And then she giggles and launched into a high
speed, highly mortifying monologue. “Oh my god, I can’t believe the two of you
came here
together
. I always sort of thought you two were, and I’m so
glad you are! You’ll have to tell me all about it. Don’t you just love the
lights? And don’t mind the bar Becka, it’s all
virgin
. My parents aren’t
totally without responsibility. Of course I’m sure someone will start spiking
the drinks soon enough, so do be a little careful. So I hear your dad totally
gave you the car…”
She’s over
excited, even by Mandy standards, and her voice is both booming and shrill as
she speaks, sort of like a chipmunk speaking through a megaphone. As usual
though, I only really hear the first bit, along with the rest of the room full
of people. I turn about fifteen shades of red everything from cherry, to ruby,
salsa, brick, and jazzberry jam red.
Justin just
laughs. While she’s extolling the virtues of a heated pool he whispers, “Don’t
let her bother you. Just because Mandy announces something doesn’t mean anyone
is paying attention.”
The feeling
of him standing so near makes my heart pound with both panic and pleasure at
the same time, like the right and left side of it are pumping to different
tunes. Maybe that’s why I’m feeling this terrible squeezing sensation. Everyone
obviously thinks this was a date, part of me included. And just as obviously,
Justin and I are going to need to have a real long talk, but not tonight. Not
in a crowded party, drowning in sound. Besides, what’s the harm? It’s not like
we’re going to slip upstairs and make out.
We do joke,
and flirt. Justin is in an amazingly good mood, and so full of happiness that I
wouldn’t ruin it for anything. Someone new takes over the music and it becomes unexpectedly
decent and danceable. Justin shoots me a questioning look and then offers me
his hand. We’ve danced together often enough before; I rationalize.
It’s
different this time though, there’s electricity between us and I’ve never been
so aware of him. It’s like one of those moments in the movies when the crowd
fades out and the world shrinks down to two people. He’s close to me, very close.
So close that I am breathing his breath in. In another second his lips will be
touching mine and-
And our
friendship will be ruined. I take a giant step backward, bashing right into
someone behind me. The intense world fading spell between us shatters and I see
a range of confusion and hurt play across Justin’s face before I turn and dash
toward the open French doors at the end of the room.
The cool
air of the night hits my face, and my lungs fill, cleaning out the heat and the
confusion of the dance floor. I don’t have to turn around to know that Justin
has followed me outside. Of course he has. I take my time turning around
though, trying to control my expression. “Becka,” he says softly, from a lot
closer to me than I expected. I pivot to find him less than a foot away from
me. “I’m sorry. That was too fast, too intense. I didn’t mean to do that.” His
voice is all gentle contrition.
“No Justin,
I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to be all leady-on and rejecty,” I blurt out. “I just,
this all kind of surprised me. You know?” My voice is more pleading than I
expected, and not just a little pathetic.
Justin
considers before asking, “Surprising amazing or surprising terrible?”
His
question stretches into the night. I sit on the cool stone retaining wall at
the edge of the garden. Away from the bright lights and with the dance music
muted by the open air, it’s easier to think. It’s also easier to have this
conversation without Justin being able to read every expression on my face. The
down side of being with someone who’s known you forever; it doesn’t matter what
I try to say, he always know what the truth is.
Justin sits
beside me, near enough that our shoulders will touch if I lean just a little
bit to the side. “Surprising in a confusing way. Not terrible, definitely not
terrible.” I’m really talking more to myself as I try to cess it all out. “But
really really mind bending.”
“Definitely
not terrible?” Justin repeats my words softly and touches my face gently,
turning my head so that I’m looking at him in the soft shadows of the night. He
gazes into my eyes, reading what’s there. I feel myself trembling, either from
the chill of the stone seeping into my skin or from his nearness, or a little
of both. He leans towards me, closing the distance between us so slowly that I
could easily lean away. Instead I hold very still. He kisses me softly, his
lips touching mine with the barest of pressures. I close my eyes and let the
feeling of him so close to me race down my body, thrilling at the contact. And
then he pulls away. I feel his eyes on my face and I open my eyes, smiling.
It was a
great kiss; soft, warm, full of tingling chemistry. I can tell by the bemused
look on Justin’s face that he feels it too. If we stay here, like this, he’ll
probably kiss me again, and again. A part of me wants that but I force myself
to scoot away from him on the wall. Not far enough to imply a rejection, just
far enough to give me some breathing room and make a second kiss less imminent.
“Can we hit pause a second?” I ask.
He smiles
affectionately, no trace of resentment or hurt in his expression. “Absolutely.
Why don’t we go back in, dance a little, have some fun?” He jumps up off the
wall briskly and holds out his hand to me, all easy going confidence.
I stand,
but lean against the wall. “Actually, can I meet you in there in a couple? I
think I need a few minutes just to, kind of, get a grip on things.” I could
never have said that to a regular boy, but Justin will understand.
Justin nods,
backing a few paces from me, “I’ll see you inside.”
I sit back
down as he walks away. Now that he’s safely inside, I have the sinking feeling
that I’ve been making some very reckless decisions. I’m still flip flopping
between berating myself and savouring the feeling of his lips when I hear sharp
voices, arguing in the darkness of the garden, beyond the wall.
In the
shadows of the wall I’m invisible, so I strain to hear what the argument is
about but the voices are foreign and difficult to pick out clearly. Curious I
creep along the wall, until I’m positioned so I can see into the elaborate, old
fashioned English garden. I have my hands braced against the wall, my bare
knees buried in the damp grass. There are three boys, standing in a knot. Two
have their backs to me and the third’s face is obscured by the almost absolute
darkness of the garden.
I can’t see
him, but now I can hear him clearly. As I lean forward I hear the icy
remoteness of his voice. “I need someone younger Cha’tima, this one’s mind is
disintegrating. I cannot hold him.”
The boy he
addressed as Cha’tima turns and I could see the round, baby fat contours of his
face. He’s young, very young. He can’t be in high school with us. What is he
doing here? When he speaks his voice is detached and ages older than he looks
“Your failures shame you. Younger is not permitted. Otaktay’s orders are
specific. He does not wish to wait years more for the host body to develop.
Either bring your will to bear on its mind or fade away. We have no place here
for the weak.”
The other
body, still blanketed in darkness, so I have no notion of his age, speaks with
an indifferent, almost bored tone, “than choose someone more, malleable. My
host is intelligent, independent, exhausting. He fights me constantly. This is
your
failure. The hosts were supposed to be pliable, followers. Summon us new
ones, before we lose our hold on this plane.”
“Blaming
others for your own inadequacy is yet another sign of weakness. I won’t cater
to your frailty. Your host is healthy, athletic, and influential. You could not
ask for better. If you disagree though, there is a whole party full of young,
vibrant bodies here. You want a new host Inteus, get it yourself, if you can,”
Cha’tima taunts. His arm sweep out, gesturing toward the lights of the party.
One
of them steps out of the shadows enough for me to see the ghastly grey blue of his
face. He looks more like a suffocation victim than a living person. Watching him
walk toward the house makes my flesh crawl. I ease myself down into the grass,
pressing hard against the stones and willing him not to look back. Not to look
at me. I try to keep my mind clear, just in case. I don’t know in case what. I’m
just trying to be still on every level. I don’t see what becomes of the other
two but the thought of them somewhere out here in the garden with me, makes me
stand and head back into the party, as nothing else would have.
Are
these things the Numina Ephraim warned me about? It certainly sounds like it,
what with the plans to snatch a new body from the crowd. So somewhere back in
that mass of dancing teens there is at least one Numina, hunting. I break into
a sprint back towards the warmth, the light and Justin.
Justin
is waiting for me with his usual heartening confidence. He whisks me on to the
dance floor before I can do more than glance around the room. The faces around
me are reassuringly normal, but I can’t stop scrutinizing them. Where is he?
Which one of these kids is really a monster? I check each face, but I didn’t
see anything that looks out of place. Most people’s faces are flushed from
dancing and drinking too much. They look vibrantly alive.
Logically,
I know there’s something very wrong happening but what can I do? Without any
ability to control it, or run from it, I guess I’m coping by pretending. Before
long I’m laughing and joking and breathless from bouncing around the dance
floor with Justin. I’m not a very graceful dancer, but then Justin knows that
already and doesn’t care. He grabs my hand and spins me backward. I spin a
little too hard and go cascading into a mass of thrashing bodies, knocking one
clear off his feet and sprawling on top of him. For one confusing second we are
a jumble of legs and bodies sharing some ultra embarrassing contact. Behind me,
Justin is trying to lift me off but my body is rigid. I’m inches from the
deadest eyes I’ve ever seen. Blue, breathless skin and slack face muscles make
him look more like a corpse than a high school boy. His gaze bores into me and
my heart squeezes, like the beginning of a heart attack. My breath comes out in
icy crystals. A fine sheen of frost creeps up my arms, leaving my hands blue
and numb. His eyes get larger and larger, filling all of my vision with
blackness. I am falling into the darkness of them.
The
world is becoming soundless, dim and distant. Far above me, my body is flailing
wildly, fighting with primal instinct to preserve itself. One of my hands lands,
thump, on the bare skin of his throat. For a moment nothing happens. There is
just the heaviness of a weight on our chests then a shockwave bucks through us.
A burning, driving pain forces me upward, and away from him. His eyes shrink
below me and I fight, in control of my own body again. I lock both hands on him
and shove away with all the force I have, mentally and physically. A massive
shock punches down my arms and into his chest. Pain roars back up my hands like
the kickback from a rifle. His eyes narrow into hateful slits before his mouth
drops open and he starts to keen with an unearthly howl. Justin grabs me around
the waist and lifts me clear of him.