Once Time Passed (A Burdened Novel Book 4), page 9
“I miss him too. I feel him missing.” Rolling his shoulder, Olar brings on his Burdened. “Nothing is going to ease it until I get my revenge,” he growls, voice now a husky rasp. Olar steps to the door and draws his leg back before thrashing it forward and kicking in the door. “Knock, knock,” he says, intruding.
I’m hot on his heels, listening for rushing footsteps or a holler to ward an intruder. The font door swings on its broken hinges.
Absence of another’s presences sulks me in disappointment. “Dammit,” I mutter.
We enter the house from the wide foyer decorated in white walls and white paintings. Two, tall, white vases housing trees with white painted leaves sit on both sides of the hall, at the end of the foyer. White furniture and white décor decorate a living room we enter from the foyer. “I bet when the sun hits inside here, it lights up like New York,” I say.
Olar’s standing at the fireplace, a framed picture in hand. “This is new,” he states.
I look past him to a photo of Lana and Lunis, shoulder to shoulder, smiling. The outfit she wears is one Carmen bought for her one day recently when the three of us went to the mall. “Hmm.” I leave him with his picture. Lunis is her brother, and while we may want her to despise that nugatory scum of the earth, we shouldn’t expect it.
On a glass, side table beside the white couch is a half-folded note and a pair of spectacles. The note reads:
‘I couldn’t control who I mated with. I’m mated now and that’s that. You can’t punish me for things out of my control. We’ve been cordial with the Newcombs until Nathan Sr. reneged on his sell despite what my mate did to mother and Mia. I’m doing my best to locate what you need. Cut me some slack. I love you and everything is fine. See you next week. Lana.’
“Hey,” I turn to find Olar looking over my shoulder. He startles me. “Oh, um, here.”
He snatches the letter, and I pick up the half-written note that was sitting next to it. It begins addressed to Lana, seeming from Lunis. He starts off telling her that she’s had a lot of time and there’s not much more of it that he can spare. But, it seems he was cut off in the middle of writing because his last sentence, unlike the first three, doesn’t end in a period.
There’s a thud from the upper floor followed by a tangle of angry whispers. Olar and I lock eyes. I drop the notepad on the couch. Someone’s been here this entire time and hasn’t said anything? I think to Olar. He shrugs and heads for the stairs. I hurry to follow behind him. Who is that? Doesn’t sound like Lunis, I whisper. Olar continues up the stairs and I grab his arm. Wait! Do you not hear how mad this guy sounds?
Yes. He shakes his arm from my grasp. What are you, afraid? We need to get the jump on him before he can come down here on us.
The person quiets as their shadow nears the door on the right side of the hall, closest to the stairs. The shadow extends across the floor then up the wall as though its body leans forward. It doesn’t peek out of the door.
We stop. Waiting.
You think it can hear us?
It’s likely.
There’s more being said, but I can’t make out the language they’re speaking.
Whatever he’s saying, Olar starts, he’s mad as hell. He may be on the phone or talking to himself.
I’m shooting for talking to himself, I don’t hear any of that cell phone static or other voices from a phone.
“You, out there! I’m coming for you!” It says in English.
Umm, what the hell does that mean? I say.
You got me. Ready to fight?
Sure. I guard myself and will my hands black.
Olar blasts forward, clearing the remaining of the stairs. In front of the doorway, the shadow of the person inside jumps back further into the room. I’m right behind Olar, following him into the empty space.
“What it is?” The man asks, cowering against the wall behind him. “What do you want?” The man’s eyes churn a gray and blue as he stares at us. He may be Sephlem. Full-blooded Sephlem. Any Burdened would’ve morphed red, no way his beast would sit at bay if a threat was afoot. And Hybrid Sephlem’s eyes don’t churn.
“We’re looking for Lunis. You seen him around?” Olar asks.
Fidgeting his hands in front of his face, he rambles a bit, gabbing, “Oh Lunis. My brother, Lunis.” He angrily stares at his fidgeting hands until they grasp each other, then he says, “He’s got me into something again.” The accent of whatever the language he speaks is heavy on his words, nearly making him too hard to understand.
“Do you know where he is?” I ask.
“He aint here.”
There’s a pinch in my neck that reins in my suspicions. It could be the way he moves his body, the unnerving twitch or the way it seems he’s unsure which hand or leg is going to move so he looks for it to do so as though he weren’t in control of the movement.
I will the additional film over my eyes and blink to adjust my sight. Within the body is a Qualm. One who is like the Qualms. Instead of him being cloaked his body—half-body—is present with the skeletal half surrounded in the dark mist floating in and out of its crevasses. “How’d you come across this body? You steal it?”
Insulted, the man jumps to his feet. “I was given this body by my brother!” he retorts, raking his hands over his chest, then legs. He’s strapped in a tailor-made suit and fresh haircut. “I’m getting used to it.” Fidgeting with his hands again, he adds, “I just can’t get it to do little things yet.”
“How’d Lunis give you this body,” Olar asks. “How’s he getting these bodies?”
The man points past us. “There be bodies walking around all out there. They’re everywhere. Not like I remember. But now, they’re here.”
“What?” I mutter. “Humans, Sephlems? What bodies are here more than before?”
The man laughs and dances in circles. Olar calls for his attention but goes ignored.
“I think we lost him,” I say.
“I’ve got an idea. Your fire worm. Bring it out here. Let’s get a diversion and you see if there’s anything we’re not seeing.”
I turn my hand palm down, and my fire snake slithers onto the floor. It circles around me before rising to my height, facing the man. The man turns to us, attention drawn to the blazing serpent. He attempts to cross the floor but doubles back, realizing something I can’t place.
Under his façade, the monster is equally fascinated. They stare in awe with an edge of hesitation. I concentrate, staring at the monster, searching for something within him that reveals anything. The snake of fire slithers on its hind over to him. It circles him in a way a snake would wrap around its prey, but the fire snake doesn’t touch him. Instead, it studies the monster as if it were looking for a precise way to attack.
On my next blink, I’m seeing through the eyes of my snake, through blazing heatwaves. There’s something else inside of the man, beyond the Qualm. Maybe the reflection of the person who owns this body.
No! It’s not a reflection. The man screams, “Help me!”
I jump from the aggression of his holler. Grabbing Olar’s arm, I mutter, “I get it now. The girl at the restaurant, she was possessed by a Faylaman, but she asked for me to help her. They aren’t killing them, they’re taking over them. The people are still alive!”
In the next instant, the snake has charged down the man’s throat. “Do not blow him up!” I say with a point. “Get out of there! Bad boy!”
“Remember when we rescued Little Nathan from that jail with those oversized gorilla men? They were possessed too, right? The ladies behind the counter, Taylor freed them.”
“You’re right.” The man begins to glow. “Hey you! You better not blow him up. Get out of him right now! And not through the other end, get out the way you entered!”
Like an explosion from the mouth, the fire snake erupts from the man’s body and lands on the floor, slithering one way then another before settling.
The man falls to the floor, panting. “That was the most spectacular thing I’ve ever seen and experienced.”
Did he just have a snakegasm?
That’s not a thing…
Pointing to the man, Olar snorts. Prove it. Hey, didn’t you and Nathan get possessed by one of these Qualms once? That giant snake warm saved you then, Olar says.
That was completely different than this. I’m thinking this ball falls in Taylor’s court.
Olar scoffs.
The man’s begging the snake for another ‘treatment’ when we turn back.
“You need to get out of here,” Olar tells him.
“Here is the way I can get to my home,” he says. “My brother will be home with more bodies, he has orders to fill and a cage full of them. They will repay him when he arrives.”
“When who arrives?” Olar asks. “Be clearer.”
There’s a click from behind me, but when I whip around, there’s nothing there. I’m blinking rapidly, trying to get my eyes to show me something. There’s breathing, and I kind of feel someone here. But, I see nothing.
“Let’s go, Olar,” I say, grabbing his attention from punching the man. “Instinct will force him to leave.” I snap for my snake to follow, as I head out of the room.
As I’m exiting the room, a soft breeze brushes my curls against my cheeks. Throwing a glance to my right, I search for an open window, but find a wall instead; about three feet away. “Olar, you feel that?”
“Wind? Yeah. But where’s it coming from?” We scan the hall of closed doors and windowless walls. “That’s so weird.”
Stepping further down the hall, I search for the reason of the breeze, but find nothing. It feels odd over here, like a million auras standing in this one spot. There are whispers I only hear when I stand still and hold my breath. They’re too quiet to make out, but something is saying something. “Maybe it’s just my imagination. Let’s get out of here.” I pass it, but it takes me a while to tear my gaze away from . . . nothing.
We make it out of the house, back through the front door. On the porch, Olar asks, “You have to do this one thing for me.”
He doesn’t have to say it. I give permission to my anxious snake of fire to do its “dragon” thing. Within five minutes, as Olar and I are resting against the hood of the car, the house goes up in flames. When Olar’s satisfied, we head home.
She Used to be Mine
“What’d you say you and Olar came across yesterday?”
I show Jason my picture of a sleeping puppy I’ve finished coloring. He gives me the okay to add it to our ‘keep’ pile of finished pictures we’re creating for our color collage. “Yeah, this man, he was like a host for a Qualm, but inside the man was the other man, I’m assuming the real spirit,” I take a whack at the word but I’m not sure if I should call it that, “was still intact.”
Taylor trades a pink crayon for a blue. “Where before, they were just possessing corpses, now the people are alive and they’re just taking over? That’s scary.”
“You’re telling me.” I hesitate to say my next words and release them with caution. “I thought about you, maybe, doing something to help out with that. Like, before. Maybe, help release the possessed.”
“I can’t, Tracey. You know I can’t leave the house.”
“Yeah,” I sigh, “I know.”
Some nights are harder than others, and I’ve still not been able to sleep through the night in my own bed. It smells like Nathan and sometimes when I let my imagination get away with me, I feel him there, holding me, pushing his fingers through my hair, cuffing my cheek. He lies beside me and wraps his heavy arm around my middle and his chuckle for whatever humorous comment I made, trickles in my ears. It hurts like hell. So, I won’t fight Taylor over her weaknesses. In her own time, she’ll climb out of her shell. At least, today, we’re sitting up on the bed, coloring in the lines, chilling with Justin’s mini-me. He’s a bundle of smiles and laughter, a picture of joy being able to spend this better day with his mother.
We finish our collage and tape each picture and drawing together before hanging it on the wall in their room. The bigger picture is an image of a dog’s face. Jason loves dogs. I’m thinking of getting him one if Taylor okays it.
“Come on, Jason. Let’s get you a bath to wash off all this marker and crayon. And then it’s to bed for you, big guy.” Jason jumps on the bed and out of my reach.
“Tracey,” he says with declaration. “I am not going to take a bath.”
“Oh,” I gasp. “Then what are you going to do?”
He shrugs as he’s jumping up and down, giving me a headache.
“Would you like for me to give you a bath, Jason?” Taylor asks, silencing his ‘no bath’ song and ending his jumping. He stands in the middle of the bed, crayons crowded around his feet, staring at his mother with eyes that are equally eager and shocked. “Mommy,” he mutters with an edge of hope, “you want to give me a bath?” she nods and Jason lunges for his mother, throwing his arms around her neck. “You’re the best, Mommy.”
Taylor seals him in her shaking arms. She picks him up and they leave the room to the bathroom. I wipe the back of my hand across the bottom of my chin, catching the tear tickling me. That’s all Jason ever wants. The little times it happens is better than it never happening at all, and Jason will eat up every moment of it, because, unfortunately, he knows it’s not lasting.
I lie on the opposite side of the bed of Taylor with Jason sleeping between us. She has the hottest room in the house, but for some reason, I like the discomfort. It doesn’t allow me to rest easily and keeps me grounded when my dreams catch up with me.
“One day soon, Tracey, I promise I’ll do better.” Taylor’s breaths have been unsteadying for the past hour. “Just. Every time I see the sun or braid Jason’s hair, or even see a smile, even when I look at you. . . Justin is all I remember. Nathan being gone smacks me in the face.” She takes a pause. “It’s the guilt that shouts in my face. When I said I was sorry about Roehl, then, I truly didn’t mean it. What I did to my brother was put him on the line with hope it would take the target off Justin and me, even after my father was gone. Roehl was still going to come after me, but as long as you existed, he’d remain distracted. Tracey, I’m sorry.”
I turn on to my back from side. A harsh breath rushes past my lips. “The past is in the past, Taylor. Karma has had her run at you. I don’t need to hit you too. And you don’t need to keep beating yourself up about this. We’ve forgiven you. It’s time you forgive yourself. Once you forgive you, you’ll feel a lot better.”
“Thanks.”
“Of course, Taylor. You have a handsome baby boy who needs you. Be there for him. Yes, it’s hard, but there’s only one way for it to get easier. And, Jason’s worth it.”
Taylor’s silent. But she heard me.
I drift off, holding my breath for thirty seconds before releasing it. Time’s been turning slowly and where I felt like it was circling in a direction to benefit me, the more information I find out, the more I believe it’s for the worse.
“Tracey? Come down.” Little Nathan calls from down stairs. It’s impossible to tell the time of day in Taylor’s room with her covered windows.
Climbing out of the bed, sure not to disturb Jason and Taylor, I pull the covers back over the both of them, and then creep across the floor and out of the room. The light of day breaks through the room when I open the door, and I hurry to close it.
I go to the kitchen, finding Little Nathan standing over the stove. “Yeah?” I ask. He looks over his shoulder, and I stumble backward, hand clutched at my chest, breaths stuck between an inhale and the opposite. “Is . . .”
“I made you lunch.” He lifts the skillet into view. “You hungry, beautiful?” Steady steps draw me closer. Tears are streaming down my cheeks, and my hands are shaking as they reach his shoulders. The spatula falls atop the stove. He turns around and slips his arms around my waist. I’m pulled into the tightest hug. “You okay?” he asks.
“She said you were alive, and I didn’t believe her. But, I hoped you’d come back.”
A kiss molds against my neck before his beard scrapes over it. “I’ll never leave you, promise.”
I draw back and he turns back to the stove. He looks down at me from the corner of his eye. His smooth face comforts a small smirk. That flattering smirk that shows it makes him happy when he looks at me. “I love you,” I mention, wrapping an arm around his back.
“I know.” He steps away from me, moving the skillet with the stir-fry from the stove.
I look around the empty kitchen. “Has anyone else seen you?”
“Of course,” he says. “I am in the middle of the kitchen cooking.” He laughs, knitting his brows at my silly question.
“You don’t know how happy I am to see you.”
“Un-huh.” Nathan prepares our plates, and we sit around the island, eye-gazing and smiling at each other. Over the food, we make small talk of water and mountains, flowers I’m planting, and school as the lyrics of a soft tune whisks us away.
If love can lose its feelings and dreams are without meaning,
What mind can lose its sense but find its evanescence.
A missile, death came as a destroyer.
A scythe, life slashed from a reaper.
And life found me still as stone,
Cold as ice,
A heart unborn.
And though my life is gone.
I breathe. . .
Without warning, our surroundings spin at an unprecedented speed. Nathan turns, the kitchen whirls, the world’s spinning, all as I stand stationary, trying to keep up with all of it rotating in different directions. Dropping to my knees, I’m dizzy, fighting the nausea burning my throat. I reach for . . . nothing, but try to hold it together.
As quickly as it starts, my world halts, setting me free of the claim to my oxygen. There’s white noise. And I’d fear it, but I’m more disturbed by how comforting it is.
