Within

Chapter Six

“Cam?” Arthur called. “Cam, open the door.” I awoke to him banging on the door.

“It’s open!” I yelled, groaning as I rubbed my eyes.

I heard the door knob click and watched as the door slid open and Arthur walked in. “Are you okay? I came home from work and smelled your blood... I tried calling but you didn’t answer, and you weren’t at my place so I went here and then I knocked--”

“Why didn’t you just break the door?” I questioned him monotonously. “Or check to see if it was open.”

He blinked. “Oh, it’s just that my first instinct was to kno--”

“Jesus Christ,” I swore in front of the half-angel and pushed myself up. “You were panicking, sensed that I was in danger, and your immediate reaction was to knock politely on my door?

“Yeah,” he answered. “Okay, it sounds bad when you put it that way.”

“It is bad.”

Arthur cringed a little. “Sorry. Anyway, are you all right?” His eyes landed on my jacket that was soaked with blood, along with the couch and my pants. “You’re bleeding,” he stated.

“Um, yeah,” I snapped, “I thought you smelled it.”

He ignored my unnecessary rudeness and rushed over to my side. “What happened? How are you injured? Did someone hurt you? How? I-I don’t understand.” He looked up at me; his thick brows were furrowed

“No, it’s not that,” I told him, attempting to sit up more. I lifted up my shirt so that it was possible to see the injury... Or where it had been, at least. It hadn’t disappeared like when Arthur had taken care of it it, but rather, there was a large formation of smooth scar tissue where it had been.“What is going on?” I bemoaned, falling back down.

Arthur spoke quietly, “I don’t know. What happened?”

I told him what happened hurriedly (I left out my inability to go outside), hoping that he would be able to make some sense out of what happened to me. “So? What do you think?”

Arthur leaned back, his expression thoughtful. “I think that I know what it is. Maybe.”

“Okay? And?”

He gave me a look, but continued to say, “You’re a banshee.”

“Yeah.” Why was he acting daft?

“I can’t heal you. Well, I can. But it’s a temporary fix; the injuries will slowly come back.”

I was really going to need him to start explaining these things faster. I was tired and just not in the mood for beating around the bush. “Why?”

“You’re an undead.”

“I was born this way.”

“What?”

“My mother--my real one--she was a banshee. The powers passed onto me, but I’m not undead.”

Arthur blinked, genuine surprise written on his face. “Oh. Well, it doesn’t change much.” He touched my chin gently, rubbing his thumb over the scab. I felt my chin tingle a little, like limbs did when they lost all circulation, then regained feeling of it again. “See? I can heal you. But since your spirit, your power is something considered unholy; the effects will reverse each other eventually.”

“What?”

“Your unholiness canceled out my holiness,” he explained.

“Why did it make the injuries come back, though? I don’t understand.”

Arthur hesitated, obviously not knowing how to explain. “My powers reversed the damage done. It’d be safer to say that I manipulated time than that I actually healed the injury.”

“And the time started to turn back.”

“Yes. Starting with the most minor injury to,” his eyes flickered to my exposed stomach, “the more extreme.”

I looked up at the ceiling, a miserable feeling settling over me like a heavy blanket. So he couldn’t protect me. At least, not fully. With his strength he could,

but if I was injured, I could only be fixed for a short period of time. Better than nothing, I suppose. Then...“What about me healing now?”

“That means, uh--I don’t know.”

I stared him. “Whatever. You know enough.”

“Did I do something?” Arthur inquired, seeming confused. “You seem mad.”

I shook my head. “I’m not mad.”

“You seem mad,” he repeated.

I looked away, twiddling my thumbs. “I’m not.”

“It feels like you are.”

“I’m just in a bad mood,” I explained. “My wounds opened up, I’m paran--I’m tired.”

Arthur stared at me for a while, not letting go of my gaze. “Okay,” he finally said after a twenty second staredown. “You can rest. I’m going to go try to find out what happened to you.”

“How?”

He looked puzzle, eyebrows kneading together. “By reading. Studying.”

“You have books on this stuff? How?”

“I’ve been collecting them through the years,” he answered.

I saw the opportunity, and I leapt for it. “How old are you?” I’d assume that he was pretty old. Most immortal beings were.

“Oh, jeez.” Arthur scratched his head, eyes rolling back in thought. “It’s been a while since someone asked me that.”

I waited for a response, giving him a look when it wasn’t immediately.

“Sorry, uh... eight hundred and seventy...five.” He sounded unsure of himself. “Why?”

“Just wondering,” I answered, baffled by his age. I’d honestly never met someone so old--not that he was super old, but ancient enough for me to wonder what he had seen. “Where are you from? Originally.”

“Europe,” he answered vaguely.

I narrowed my eyes. “What part?”

Arthur shrugged nonchalantly. “I don’t know. Everything is different... I don’t even know how to find it on a map.”

“Oh.” Right. I forgot about that part. I felt sort of bad now. For reminding him. “Sorry.”

“For what?”

“Asking. It can be,” I turned my gaze, “annoying.” There were times when simple questions could be bothersome.

Arthur shook his head. “No, it’s fine.”

“Okay,” I murmured, starting to feel awkward. I ran a hand through my hair and then pushed a lock behind my ear. “Anyway... what time is it?”

“It’s almost seven. Why?”

The realization set in. My job. I didn’t come in at all nor did I call in late. “Jesus Christ,” I groaned, throwing my legs over the couch and rushing to my bedroom.

“Cam?” Arthur called, the chair creaking as his weight was lifted and he followed after me. “What are you doing? Are you not going to rest?”

“My job,” I explained, “I have to go in. I didn’t go earlier bec--I have to go in!” I snatched up some clean clothes that I could change into. I felt frazzled. I had never been late to work. How was I going to go to work now, though? The thought of going outside my apartment made my stomach rumble anxiously. How was I going to make it work? I didn’t really know, but I knew that I had to. My schedule was already in ruins, I couldn’t let it go any farther than this.

“Cam.”

I whipped around to discover that Arthur was directly behind me. “Move!” I shouted. Why was he in my way? That was important to me. Even if I hated the people that were there, it was the place that had served me for the past couple of years. It felt wrong, not being there, that is.

“Calm down.” He stared down at me.

I tried to walk around him, but his arm shot out and wrapped around my waist. I began to struggle, hating that his grip was so tight and left me absolutely no room to struggle. “Let me go!” I settled on shrieking.

“Cam, calm down,” he repeated, voice flat. “You need to sit down. Recuperate. And I need to find out what’s going on with your body.”

“No!”

When I didn’t relent, Arthur changed his grip so that both of his hands were resting on each shoulder, still locking me in place. “I’d rather not do this,” he stated. He didn’t look me in the eyes like he normally did, instead, he stared straight forward.

“Do what?” I questioned, still squirming. I knew that he wouldn’t understand. But I had to go. I needed to go. Not for anyone else, but for me. My wounds were healed, I could do it. I wouldn’t be afraid to go outside this time. I’d make it. “Arthur, please let me go,” I started to beg.

“I don’t want to fight with you, Cam.” His hold on my shoulders loosened. “I know that it’s my fault that you’re here right now. That you got hurt and now that your life is in danger, and I’m sorry.” Arthur shook his head, the corners of his lips pushing down slightly. “But right now, what’s important is that we find out what’s going on with your body. It’s dangerous for you to make any rash decisions. You need to sit down.”

I shook my head furiously, tears burning at my eyes. I was crying a lot in these past few days, more than I ever had before. “You don’t understand,” I told him, voice shaking. “That place is normal for me. There’s this coworker that I love to hate and no one knows what I am--I can be the average human there. And I need that.”

“You’re right, I don’t understand. I don’t get why you’re trying to force yourself to fit in with the humans. You don’t have to. You’re not obligated to.” Arthur’s eyes softened. “It’s okay to not be one of them.”

I stared at him, annoyance overcoming my initial hysteria. How dare he? “What would you know?” I questioned. “You don’t know me. You don’t know anything about me. Do you know how banshees are treated within the by other non-humans?” He didn’t say anything, so I took it as a yes. “And you’re telling me it’s wrong for me to want somewhere where I do fit in?”

It was his turn to shake his head. “No, that’s not what I’m saying. I’m telling you to not make yourself into something that you’re not.”

“And what is that?” I asked bitterly, already knowing the answer.

“You’re not a human, Cam.” He continued, “You may look like one, but you’re not. Neither am I. And you have to understand the distinction between us and them.”

I snatched myself away from him with a huff and stomped over to my bed, sitting down and crossing my arms. I hated that I knew that he was right. My relationship with humans would never satisfy me; I could never get anything real and substantial from it. I’d always have to be fake and keep my identity a secret or else my life wasn’t the only one that would get put into jeopardy.

“I’m sorry,” Arthur said. I didn’t get why he was apologizing. It wasn’t like any of this was his fault--the human side of things--but I guess he felt like it was. Or maybe he felt pity for me (which, by the way, I didn’t want). He sat down next to me without another word, the both of us unsure of what to say of each other.

“Yeah,” I replied softly, “I’m sorry too.”