Daemons in the Mist (The Marked Ones Trilogy: Book One) (20 page)

28

Please Tell Me It’s Not Too Late

Tuesday, February 14th

PATRICK

I
had spent the morning hoping to
hell
my friends would be so distracted by the fact that it was Valentine’s Day that they would forget it was also my birthday. When nothing had happened by lunch, I began to think maybe they really
had
forgotten.

Nualla and I got to the lunch table before everyone else which was highly unusual. Even Beatrice wasn’t there yet—which had
never
happened, that I could think of. It was a very bad sign that made me want to bolt from the atrium. But of course, doing so would alert Nualla that something was up and that was the
last
thing I wanted to do.

Nualla had put the other Valentine’s Day presents in her locker, but had been toting the little stuffed cat around with her all day, a giant grin on her face. The fact that no one had ever given her a Valentine’s Day present was practically a crime. So currently, I was more than golden in her eyes. However, I had a sinking feeling that something was going to ruin it at any second now.

I was about to suggest we leave the table to try and avoid the inevitable, but the second I was about to stand, a small cake with a candle was shoved in front of my face. “Happy Birthday, Patrick!” came the cheery voices of my friends, who had just royally screwed me without knowing it—in three words or less.

The girls placed the cake down and sat around me. Even Shawn and Nikki were in on the fun. Connor looked like he was going to throw up; which was about how
I
felt at that moment.

“Why didn’t you tell us it was your birthday, Patrick? We almost didn’t have time to get you a present,” Shawn said as he pushed something in front of me. Apparently Nikki and Shawn hadn’t done the math, because they were completely oblivious.

Everyone was smiling good-naturedly, and then all their faces fell. I was almost afraid to look at Nualla.

“Patrick, can I speak with you—
now
?” Nualla said as she grabbed my arm painfully and pulled me to my feet.

She dragged me through the hall and out into the back parking lot before stopping. But a quick glance around revealed a bunch of students hanging out around the cars. She huffed angrily and without releasing me marched across the street to the park. When we reached the fountain she finally stopped and whipped around to face me. “Patrick, how old are you?” she asked, crossing her arms under her chest.

I swallowed hard. “Eighteen.” I knew it wasn’t what she meant, but it was the truth—kinda.

“How old were you when we got married in Vegas?”

I just looked at her for a while and sighed, delaying this wouldn’t stop the inevitable. I braced myself and sealed my fate in one word. “Seventeen.”

“When
exactly
were you planning to tell me that we were never legally married?” Nualla asked through gritted teeth; her arms had moved to form clenched fists at her sides.

“I was hoping I would never have to.” It was a dumb answer, and I knew it, but it was the only one I had.

“Why the hell not?!” Nualla asked, throwing her arms out in anger.

I looked down at my black and white scuffed up Converse shoes. “I thought—I thought if you knew we weren’t
really
married, you would—leave.”

“You thought I was only with you because we accidentally got married?”

It sounded even dumber when she said it. So dumb in fact, that I couldn’t even answer her—but I did. “Yes…”

She didn’t say anything; didn’t even make a sound for so long I just couldn’t take it anymore, and I had to look up. Tears streamed down her beautiful face. I reached out to her, I had to comfort her; her tears were breaking my heart. “Nualla I—”

“Don’t touch me!” she shouted and took a step back putting herself more out of my reach. I stopped but didn’t drop my hand. “It didn’t cross your mind, did it, that I might actually be with you because I…because I
loved
you?”

“You
love
me?” I probably sounded more shocked than I intended, but before this moment she had never
actually
said it, and this sudden declaration had caught me off guard.

In one swift movement Nualla ripped off the necklace holding the ring from her neck and threw it at me. It bounced off my chest and into the fountain with a
plunk
.

“I did,” she said with a shaking voice before she turned on her heel and ran away. And I just stood there frozen as I watched her leap aboard a passing cable car, and then she was gone.

I stood there in stunned silence for a long moment, watching the place where she had been, wondering how things had gone so very wrong. But I knew the answer; I had fucked up.

Minutes, hours, days later, the crash of thunder ripped me out of my stupor. Big fat drops started to pour down as I looked up into the sky. “You really do hate me don’t you?” I asked the heavens.

It rumbled back.

“Yeah, I hate
me
, too,” I said as I sat on the edge of the fountain.

Then it occurred to me that it was my self-loathing that had gotten me into this mess in the
first
place—well that
and
stupidity. If I had just believed that someone would want to be with me I wouldn’t be sitting here—alone. Then it hit me, I didn’t
have
to be alone; that there might actually still be a chance.

I turned around and dove into the fountain; swatting coins around until I found the ring. With it clenched in my fist, broken chain swinging, I ran back across the street to the school. I wasn’t going to give up on my happiness—on her—that easily.

I ignored everyone as I ran down the hall and into the atrium. I didn’t stop running until I reached our lunch table again.

Connor nearly choked on his lunch when he saw me. “Patrick, is everything—”

Royally fucked? Yeah it is.

“Why are you soaking wet,” Beatrice asked, more than a little confused.

I ignored her question and turned to Nikki and Shawn. “Where would Nualla go if she was upset?”

“She just ran off, in the middle of school?!” Jenny asked shrilly, sounding horrified; I ignored her too.

“Was she on foot, or did she take her car?” Shawn asked, all earlier amusement gone.

“Foot, kinda—she hopped a cable car.”

“The mall,” Shawn said without a moment’s thought.

“No, Union Square, on the flat square platforms; if she was headed that direction she would stop there,” Nikki said, looking concerned. They still hadn’t figured out what was going on, but they knew
something
was up.

“Thanks!” I said quickly and started to leave, then I remembered Nualla might want her bag and turned back.

“Patrick!” Jenny’s shrill voice was getting harder to ignore.

I took a few steps back to the table and leaned down snatch up Nualla’s bag, shoving the stuffed cat into it.

“She figured it out, didn’t she?” Connor asked as the others looked at him in confusion.

I looked down at the necklace in my hand, then back up at him. “Yeah, she did.”

“What are you going to do?” he asked, only looking at me.

“I’m going to fix it.”

“Good luck man,” Connor said with a half-hearted smile.

I turned and started to run out of the atrium. “Wait Patrick, where are you going?” Jenny shouted after me.

“Tell Miss Desborne I threw up, so I went home, okay!” I called back over my shoulder as I ran through the doors.

Nualla was right where Nikki had said she would be. She was just sitting there in the rain looking at nothing with her arms wrapped around her black legging covered legs, and her chin resting on her knees. I approached slowly, trying to think of what to say. Normally she would have turned at my approach by now; so whether she was trying her best to ignore me, or she was lost in thought, I didn’t know.

“Nualla?” I said in a cautious voice. Her head whipped around, and she scowled at me. She stood and started to walk away, so I reached out to grip her wrist gently. “Nualla,
wait
!”

She shook me off and continued walking. “Leave me alone, Patrick.”

I was going to lose her forever; she was walking away, and it was all going to end. And then it finally dawned on me what I should have said before. The answer was so simple, but I had been too blind and stupid to see it till now.

I dropped to my knees on the wet sidewalk. “Nualla, marry me!”

She stopped dead and turned around. “What did you say?”

I held out the ring as the chain slipped to the ground, splashing in a puddle. “Nualla Galathea, will you marry me?” I asked in a clear loud voice. She didn’t say anything or turn away, so I took that as a sign to continue. “I know I fucked up, and I’m sorry. And even if you never give me a second chance, I promise to love you for the rest of my life!”

Her expression didn’t change, but her eyes darted around. And that’s when I noticed out of the corner of my eye that we were being watched by dozens of curious onlookers; being that it was lunchtime in downtown San Francisco. They said nothing, just silently waited for her answer, just like me. It was like a beautiful movie moment—that is, until a service truck cut a sharp corner and drenched me in a tidal wave of dirty gutter water. But that was SF for you—a splash of dirty gutter water in the face.

As I wiped the dirty water from my eyes with my sleeve, I heard laughter. I looked up to see it was
her
laughter; she was laughing.

Nualla walked over slowly and crouched down in front of me. “Oh Patrick, what am I going to do with you?”

“You could marry me, but only if you really want to—
this
time.”

“I wanted to marry you
last
time too, you know,” she admitted as she pushed my wet hair out my face.

“So is that a yes?” I asked, looking up into her eyes.

“Yeah, that’s a yes,” she answered with a smile.

Most people would have slid the ring on her finger right then and there or found somewhere less public to finish their conversation. I, on the other hand, just grabbed her and kissed her for all I was worth. People cheered for a while, but eventually the crowd around us lost interest. But still, we just sat there kissing in the rain; ignoring the world.

29

Beautiful Disaster

Tuesday, February 14th

PATRICK

I
stood and offered Nualla a hand up, but as she reached out and took my hand, I nearly dropped her. The rain was falling pretty hard by now, bouncing off her hair and shoulders, but I could see it bouncing off something else—her horns.

“Patrick?” Nualla asked, sounding a little concerned.

“Huh?” I answered, refocusing my eyes on hers.

“Is everything okay?”

“Everything’s fine; just a little bit light-headed I guess,” I lied, dropping her hand.

She didn’t look like she completely believed me, but she let it go. “We should get back,” she said, looking in the direction of the school.

“Naw, we already ditched class. Besides, I want to take you somewhere,” I said with a small smile.

“Then we should go back and get my car at least,” Nualla said, taking a step back the way we had come.

“It’s not that far,” I countered, taking her hand and starting to lead her down the street. “We could just take the bus.” Nualla stopped walking abruptly, and I looked back at her. “What’s wrong?”

“The—
bus
?” Nualla asked with a nervous smile.

“What’s wrong with the bus?” I asked, arching an eyebrow.

“I’ve never ridden a bus,” Nualla admitted in a small voice.

“Are you
serious
?” I looked at her in disbelief. “You
are
serious!” I couldn’t help but laugh.

“Don’t laugh at me!” she said as she playfully whacked me with her bag.

“You’ve seriously never ridden a bus? How long have you lived in San Francisco?”

“My whole life.”

“And you’re telling me you’ve never ridden one, not even once?” She shook her head. “Oh come on, you
have
to at least try it once,” I said as I pulled her forward again.

“But I’m not supposed—” and then she stopped and looked at me for a minute. “You know what, I will take you up on that offer.”

As we walked down the street to the 30/45 MUNI bus stop, I didn’t tell her that I had started to see around her illusion; that I didn’t need to squint quite as much to see what I wasn’t supposed to see. It was like, because I
knew
it was there, the illusion was having less and less effect on me. I probably should have told her, but I had other things on my mind; like how hilarious her expression was when the bus rolled up with people packed in like sardines.

The bus screeched to a stop and the doors popped open. Nualla looked back at me with a slightly terrified expression as I tried not to laugh.

“You kids getting on?” the bus driver asked in a less-than-thrilled voice.

“On,” I answered as I lightly pushed Nualla forward up the stairs. I tagged my Clipper Card twice and moved Nualla as far back into the bus as I could.

“Is it normally this crowded?” Nualla whispered into my ear.

“Naw, just right here. Most of the people will get off at Market Street,” I replied quietly.

We hit a bump and Nualla nearly toppled over. I reached out an arm and caught her. It wouldn’t do to have her get banged up her first time on public transit; she would never ride it again.

I held onto the pole and cradled her close to me; a protective hand around her waist. Nualla looked up at my scowl and burst into laughter; I couldn’t help but join her. It felt good to laugh; for all this stress to finally be over. I hadn’t realized how much it had been weighing on me until it was no longer there.

We passed the shop windows with their Valentine’s Day displays and she looked out at them like a child on an amusement park ride. Something about it all whizzing by just made it exciting—exhilarating.

We were nearing Market, so I tightened my hold on her waist. “Now don’t freak out, but when the bus makes this next S-curve it tends to lean—
a lot
. It looks like it will fall over but it never does, okay?”

“Okay,” she said as she smiled up at me but then her face fell; panic seizing hold of her.

“What? It’s not really that—” But I never got a chance to finish my sentence.

There was a concussion as something slammed into the side of the bus—something heavy. Glass rained over us like snow, blowing Nualla’s hair back into a swirling torrent of black. And then the bus started to fall over. Things and people and broken glass flew through the air as if there was no longer gravity to hold it down. I strained to hold onto Nualla with every ounce of my strength as the world tilted crazily, but my grip on her slipped. I could only watch helplessly as she fell; fell through a sea of shattered glass. The bus slammed to the ground violently, and I finally lost purchase on the pole.

This isn’t supposed to happen. Not today; not ever
, was the last thing that went through my mind before I hit the side of the bus.

NUALLA

I
became aware of sound first; screaming, crunching, sirens. And then I opened my eyes.

Rain?

I turned my head to the side and saw objects and people and glass strewn about as if a bomb had gone off. It didn’t make sense. Where was I? Where had I been before the bomb went off? And then I realized I was inside.
The bus!
We had been on a bus.

Patrick!

I sat up and looked around frantically. About five feet away Patrick lay on the ground. No
wait
, it was the side of the bus and he was slumped against one of the seats.

I inched closer to him. “Patrick!” My heart pounded in my chest violently; I couldn’t tell if he was breathing.

Oh gods, please be okay.

After a few nerve-racking moments, his eyes fluttered open, and I let out the breath I didn’t know I had been holding. Patrick looked around confused until his eyes fixed on me. “
Nualla
?”

I reached out a hand to touch him, and then I saw it—blood. I looked down at my hands, they were covered in blood—
my
blood.

Oh gods! Not blood, not my blood.

Patrick reached out a hand to touch me. His arms were covered in blood, and it looked like his right arm was broken.

“No! Don’t touch me!” I shouted as I backed away from him in panic. “Even the smallest amount of blood could affect you.”

Patrick looked confused for a moment, but then nodded.

After a few seconds, his eyes flickered shut, and I called out, “Patrick!”

His eyes shot open again, and he looked at me, but his eyes were vacant—unfocused.

I inched as close as I dared. “Patrick, don’t close your eyes; you probably have a concussion.” Patrick said nothing, but nodded slowly. Thankfully, his eyes stayed open, but they had a glassy faraway-look that was unsettling.

I didn’t take my eyes off him as I pulled my bag around. I was really glad in that moment, that I had had my shoulder bag slung across my chest. I fished around until I found my cell; it was cracked but still turned on. I dialed the Daemon Emergency Number, and someone picked up on the second ring.

“Kalo Emergency Response, please state your emergency,” a female voice said less than enthused.

“This is Nualla Galathea. There’s been an accident; I’m bleeding.”

I heard something on the other side of the line clatter to the floor. “We have traced your location, an EMT will be sent to your location immediately!” The voice on the other line now seemed much more alert.

I put the phone back in my bag. The Embassy was not too far away, so they would be here soon. I looked over at Patrick, and he stared back at me blankly, breathing more visibly now. I wanted desperately to hold him in my arms. But I was afraid—so very afraid. Afraid of my blood; afraid of what it could do. I wanted so badly to close my eyes, but I forced myself to keep looking at Patrick. It was utter chaos around us, but nothing mattered as long as he was still awake, still breathing.

Moments passed by slowly until I heard someone behind me. “Nualla Galathea?”

“Huh?” I looked over in the direction of the voice.

A Kalo EMT bent down next to me. “Are you Nualla Galathea?”

“Yes,” I answered in a weak voice. Without another word, he lifted me up and began to carry me out of the bus. “Wait!”

“Arius Nualla, we have to get you to the emergency room immediately.”

“No, not without him, not without Patrick,” I said, frantically trying to look at Patrick.

The EMT stopped and looked around before he lowered his face and spoke quietly into my ear. “Arius, I don’t see anyone else of
our
kind here.”

“He’s not—not yet, but soon.” I was fighting hard to stay conscious, but it was getting harder. I looked down and saw Patrick at the EMT’s feet. “
Him
.”

“Arius, we can’t take him with us.” His voice sounded so unbelievably sorry.

“No you don’t understand, he already knows, he’s already been there.”

“But—”

I gripped his arm with the last of my strength. “
Please
.” He looked at my hand, my left hand and saw it there; the ring. And then he finally understood.

“Frank!” the EMT called out over his shoulder.

“What?” replied another Kalo EMT coming through the wreckage.

“We’re taking this one
here
with us too,” the EMT carrying me stated, gesturing to Patrick with his head.

Frank looked at Patrick in confusion. “But he’s—”

“Just
take
him.”

“Whatever you say, Zeke.” Frank reached down to grab hold of Patrick.

“Thank you,” I whispered into Zeke’s shirt. I didn’t know if he heard me or not because the darkness clouded out the rest of my thought and left me drifting in its dark embrace.