Authors: David James
Mrs. Little cleared her throat. “Okay. Let’s forget about all that and be grateful we’re together for the moment.”
I wished I knew how to forget-
anything
.
“Calum, sweetie. How is it?” she asked as she blotted away the spilled water. “Do you have enough to eat?”
My voice cracked. “Yes, thanks.”
A melody of classical music peddled its way into the dining area from somewhere beyond.
“Mom,” Tyler sputtered through a mouthful of salad. “Do we have to listen to this stuff?”
“Atmosphere makes the meal, Tyler,” she replied. “Besides, you used to love Chopin.”
“You did,” agreed Mr. Little. “I remember you used to take those piano lessons. They were all you could talk about.”
“No way,” said Tyler. “I don’t remember that at all.”
“I remember you did!” I said, laughing. “You used to sing all your classical songs when you came over. You even tried to get me to take lessons. Something about forming a band called the ‘C and T Piano Posse.’ I was supposed to write the lyrics for our songs. You would not let up about that.”
“And I still agree with myself. You should have taken those lessons with me,” he said. “And you always are writing in one notebook or another. The ‘Piano Posse’ could have been awesome.”
“Posse,” Kendra giggled.
“Those were the days,” Tyler said.
“Oh, please,” said Mrs. Little. “We had to bribe you to go. Candy, chips, anything to get you to the studio. That was back when we thought we were helping you out by getting you involved in something musical. It was supposed to help with your learning skills, math and whatnot. It was in all the books.”
“That was until we saw you throw a ball,” Mr. Little said, and stuck his fork out to make a point. “That, and when we heard you sing all bets were off.”
“I could sing a mean version of
Twinkle, Twinkle
,” Tyler said. “Even my teachers said so.”
“Uh...” I started.
“I’m going to have to go with you on this one, Calum,” Mr. Little said, chuckling. “You son, like myself, were not blessed with the gift of song.”
We all laughed, even little Kendra.
I smiled at the way we ate together, the Littles and I. It felt so consoling, so real and not at the same time. Time flew swiftly by, as always.
For a moment, all was well.
Chapter Five
Cold Memory
-Calum-
The night was cool and calm as I made my way back towards my tiny home just after midnight. Mrs. Little hadn’t wanted me to walk home, but I convinced her that I was getting picked up by my Mom the next block over. I needed to walk, to have a little more time all to myself.
I needed to be alone, even though I didn’t want to be.
The sky moved like ink alit with a gray, foggy darkness, and even though there was a chill in the air, I felt warm. The edges of my mouth felt sore from smiling too hard.
I felt light.
For the first time in days, I felt like writing a song, and I thought of the words I might string together to make something beautiful:
Happiness like a bittersweet lament cried-
by a thunderstorm in the middle of a furious sea.
A fallen tree in the middle of a forest sleeping-
on a bed of wild roses.
So cold the river, so fast-
that the stones polish to gems-
a thousand of them glistening under a sun-
so yellow it’s gold. The sun falling down-
painting the trees orange-red.
I walked slowly with my hands shoved deep in my pockets, my backpack slung firmly over my shoulder. A brush of wind licked at my face and then went on to touch the leaves of the trees beside me. Even though it was autumn, I felt the warmth of summer; everything was light beneath the shadows.
I looked down and focused my eyes on the sidewalk, looked at the many cracks and uplifted stones molded in the pavement.
Interesting,
I thought.
Nothing is ever perfect, always cracked around the edges somewhere.
Maybe that’s what perfection is: Flawed.
Suddenly, a breeze carried an uneasy feeling my way, but I pushed it away before it meant anything.
I reached down to stroke the jagged leaf of a weed, finding it to be much softer than I anticipated. The bristles woven tightly into the vein of the leaf felt prickly, and they seemed to shock me when I touched them.
The night was electric. I could feel it like the beginnings of a storm, the way the air ebbed and pulsed around me like a liquid current. I felt powerful, like I always did days before a full moon. When I was young, I used to think I was a superhero, someone made real by belief. But, no. Still, my walk was stronger, my stance more firm. Out of the corner of my eye I could almost see flickers of electricity dance on wind.
I was deep in thought when a voice called out from behind a tall bush to my right, making me jump and drop my backpack from my shoulder.
Just when I thought I could forget, a memory came back as cold and real as before; a raspy voice twisting like dark shadows in the night: “Hello, Calum.
Calum!
My little boy.”
My feet froze, taking my whole body with them into an icy, unmoving coma. I knew the voice so well, it crushed against me like a brick wall.
Dad.
“How have you been, little boy? You look well.”
The wind gushed against his voice, slamming into it in steaming puffs of fog in the black night air.
His voice was higher than I remembered, different. No matter how much the wind howled, I couldn’t erase the memories I had of that voice screaming at me all night long.
In a second I was five years old again.
“Dad... Get away,” I breathed.
A sharp shiver ran up my spine.
I found my feet and forced them to step back.
I stumbled. My hand reached down and grabbed at the cement. I felt the tiny, loose stones dig themselves deep into my palm and pull blood out.
I needed to stand.
I needed to run.
Move!
my mind screamed, but I did nothing.
He shouldn’t be here. Why is he here?
He reached out a hand but pulled back almost at once. He looked away and down, as if he was listening to something.
I tried to breathe but choked.
My bloody hand was still glued to the sidewalk, the salt-like pebble tears of cement burning through my nerves.
He stepped forward with his arms open like he expected me to run into them for a hug. His tongue reached out, licking his lips.
I dug my hand further into the ground and pain shot up my arm. Then, as fast as I could, I stood.
He smiled. “Calum.”
Even though the autumn air flooded around me, I could not take a breath from it.
His eyes were glazed over and there was a red fire in them, a burning that looked like hunger. His face was calm, but his wicked grin was both painful and sweet to look at. It was too wide for his face. He was pale, nearly white against the moonlight. His tongue continued to caress his lips as if they were covered with an endless amount of sugar.
Suddenly his entire face twitched. His fingers clawed at his scalp and dug deep. He let out a high-pitched bark. “No! Go away!”
I tripped on a fallen branch and stumbled back. He grabbed my arm and his touch felt cold, frozen. The icy feeling matched the fire in his eyes perfectly, as though rage lived there instead of a soul.
“I’m doing this for you,” he said, his voice deranged and mad. His head snapped back as his mouth fell open. “Don’t you hear that song I’m singing? Didn’t you see the words I wrote for you?”
Red liquid dripped from his lips as he sang:
One, two, I see you.
Three, four, kill some more.
Five, six, bones like sticks.
Seven, eight, blood to taste.
Nine, ten, do it again.
One, two, I’m coming for you...
Beads of sweat moved down my scalp.
I saw my words, red as blood, blaring in my mind:
The sun falling down, painting the trees red.
Burning lights flared in his black eyes. His hand became tight on my arm.
“Let go!” I shouted, trying to pull my arm back in a weak attempt that only made him grip harder.
My strength vanished, my emotions gone.
His other hand shot to my throat and grew tight around it. His head twitched from side to side rapidly, turning nearly full circle like an owl’s. I heard his neck crack,
break
.
At once his voice was calm and too steady, monotone, different.
A new voice, as if he was not what he had been: “I won’t stop until you’re dead, and you have two days left.”
My heart caught in my throat. “
What?
”
Time froze.
The wind stopped blowing.
My heart was about to explode when suddenly the half-moon seemed to shine brighter, framing us in a second of light. That was all I needed to make a move. I didn’t think. I grabbed my arm back and ran toward where I knew Mom would be.
“Two days!” Dad screamed after me as I ran, his voice a growl.
The words ran after me, speeding down the street trying to catch me.
“I’m coming for you...” I heard him hiss.
I didn’t stop running until I reached my front porch.
I looked behind me.
No one.
A headache was starting to form deep in my head, warning me of my impending nightmares. Dizzy static, tinted blue, threatened me.
I grabbed the door handle, turned, and pushed.
The house was dark, mimicking the blackness of the night, though it felt much different. It smelled familiar, like home. I instantly locked the door and felt better.
Kate.
Dad.
Kate.
Dad.
My thoughts rushed together in a sea of something terrible.
I didn’t even bother taking my shoes off as I lay down on my bed. A ghostly wind beat harshly against my closed window. I heard a
crack
like someone’s neck was being broken.
I jumped.
My fingers ran over my birthmark. Then, almost instantly, I was asleep.
I dreamt a lament that night, a horrid song of lingering misery of moments I could never leave behind.
Black night shivers.
Cold memory lingers.
Red eyes burn.
One thousand beautiful reasons to live,
And I can only think of one to die.
Father.
Shadow around every corner,
False warmth in every smile.
Black.
The whole world becomes black with him.
It is a nightmare.
Horror.
When I awoke during night’s chorus, shivering, hands like ice, I had forgotten it completely. My only thoughts were cold memories of Dad and Kate.
I tried to forget.
I fell back to sleep hoping-
ignorance would be my complete bliss.
-Kate-
He was in pain. I could tell.
As he dreamt, horror traced his face in jagged lines. Sweat poured down from his hairline, rolling right over his closed blue eyes.
Those eyes
, I thought, swearing.
Those eyes are dangerous.
He was pretending to be innocent, but I knew he understood the game he was playing. How could he not? I knew since I was twelve he would be the one to die.
I am so close to victory.
I whispered for him to trust me. My voice was so quiet it was nothing more than a lingering thought on a breeze, floating in through his window from below. It was inception, the smallest of ideas planted so it would grow and burst into a want, a need, a desire so fierce it would eat him alive. Anything painful.
I knew, after all. His secret was no more.
He was dangerous, just like his father.
I reached down and brushed a finger against the snake that was curling around my leg. It was a gardener, harmless, so I killed it, twisting it into a knot until it split in two.
Pop.
“The devil is here,” I whispered. “If there’s only two days until the Orieno execute Calum’s capture, I have to do this soon. I have to get him first. I
have
to.”
I could see Calum’s power pulse around him. Hints of blue light played in the air around his body, and even with his eyes closed I could see them glow like two stars in the night.
Everyone around him acted like Calum was normal. How did they not know? Even with the binding spell, how was he keeping this a secret?
He was smart, but I was smarter.
The Orieno would not get him first.
Hell had no place for the damned like Calum Wade.
Chapter Six
Night of Shadow and Rain
-Calum-
Night demised in ice.
Morning was born in inferno.
Sun beat through my window, waking me in an ocean of warm sweat. At once I smelled hints of burnt air, the fragrance raw, influencing my headache like gasoline on fire.
Lying face up on my bed, the ceiling of my bedroom seemed to rush towards me, falling as if to crush my memories. Only for once I didn’t want to forget, not this dream. There was something about it, something that made me want to remember it in detail as though it held secrets and whispered truths.