Once Upon a Tryst with My Stepbrother

009: When Shadows Speak

[Faye]

I must be losing my mind.

I can still smell her sweet aroma, like spicy chocolate warming on a gas burner. The stranger who is odd but doesn’t seem strange.

Devona. Her name is Devona.

Her flashing green eyes behind rose-colored glasses. Velvet rippling over her muscles. That smirk as she bowed. My mind flashes, remembering every small moment, our brief encounter, as I try to make sense of it.

My pace is less of a walk, more of a sprint as I make my way along the tree lined streets. The branches of the barren trees cast long shadows, like fingers, stroking, pulling. Streetlights are inconsistent in this part of Berkeley, the patches of light like small islands in an ink black lake. In the distance, I hear the faint echo of an owl. Bats fly overhead, feasting on the small bugs attracted to the light, before flitting back into the attics and crawl spaces of the slowly decaying craftsman houses.

I turn a corner into a deep black darkness. It feels eternal, and while I feel the cold cement pressing into my sneaker-covered feet, I also feel like I’m falling through space. The street seems quieter than before. Too quiet. The common sounds of early evening have faded to nothing, not a single flap of wing or whisper of wind through the trees. Even the crickets are quiet. I have never felt a darkness so complete. I look up.

I can see the edges of a waning crescent moon, the thinnest edge of light. Tomorrow must be the new moon. The stars above me are glowing blue, red, green, yellow and white, their colors distinct and bright. I try to find a constellation that I know, but I see none that I can recognize. Never have I seen a sky so clear, even when camping in the woods. This felt like staring into the soul of God.

“Morgana…..” I hear the faintest whisper of the wind on my cheeks. “Moooooorgannnnaaaaaa.”

I turn around, reaching out. Nobody is there. Maybe it was nothing?

Shaking, fear begins to crawl its way from my gut along my throat, bubbling from my lips in a primal scream. The shadows waver, as my voice tries to reshape the night.

Suddenly exhausted, I reach down to grasp my knee, my lungs burning.

A cricket chirps. Then another.

Standing up straight, I move forward, feeling a bit of air resistance as I emerge from the deep shadow. A nearby train station glows like an oasis of sanity, and I run towards it, faster than I have ever run. My hair flows behind me like a bloody trail, whipping through the night in a wave of messy curls.

Leaning against the box of a now defunct payphone, I try to catch my breath. My heart is beating rapidly as I pull out my phone and pull up Arthur’s number. I shiver closer to the box and press the dial button.

“Hello.”

“Ar… Arthur…” I weep into the phone.

“Faye?.. Are you okay?” He sounds worried. “Where have you been? I’ve been waiting outside your place for 2 hours. What happened?”

I don’t answer his question because I don’t have an answer. Two hours! I lost two hours.

“Arthur…” My voice is shaking. “Please, can you come get me… Please, oh god, please..” I beg. I hate how desperate I sound, but I also cannot help myself. I am in need.

Without a pause, he answers, “I’ll be right there. Hold on, Faye, Where are you?”

“Not far, I’m at Ashby. I’m in front of Ashby station.”

“I’ll be there in 5 minutes,” he reassures me. “Stay on the line, don’t hang up your phone.”

The wind cackles and I jump. I hate the way my voice shakes as I respond, “I won’t hang up. Please hurry.”

I hear the engine start up in his car and the screech of his tires as he pulls away from my apartment.

“Faye, speak to me.”

“I’m still here.”

“Keep talking, tell me what you see.” I can tell he is on speakerphone because he sounds oddly distant.

“I am standing right near the ticket booth. There are people near the entrance, three men and a woman. The light above me is steady, but the one to the left, right above the gate, has begun to flicker. It almost has a rhythm. Ba, da, ba, da, ba…Ba, da, ba, da, ba…”

“I just turned into the station. I see you.”

Hanging up the phone I rush to his car, which has just pulled up to the drop off point.

After I jump in, he pulls away from the curb and I hear the doors automatically lock. It is a comforting sound. He then reaches for my hand as he begins to drive from the station. My heart calms at his touch as I breathe him in. “Do you want to talk about it?”

“Yes, no, I don’t know…. I think I might be going crazy.” I confess.

“What do you mean…”

“I seem to be losing time” I explain. “I’ve had some weird things happen today that don’t make sense…. I’m… I’m worried, Arthur.”

He doesn’t say anything at first. After a few minutes, he says, “I don’t think you’re crazy.”

“No?”

“No.” He takes a moment to look at me. “You are just under a lot of stress. Did you go see your mom today?”

I nod.

“See,” he says, as if that explains everything. “I’m sure it’s nothing.”

He is way more confident than I feel.

“What happened, really, what took you so long?”

“You promise you’ll listen? It’s kind of weird.”

He grasps my hand a little tighter. “I promise I won’t judge.”

“Okay,” I swallow. “I got lost in the dark. I went and talked to my mom and I got so angry. I left her place and just headed toward home.” We are now sitting parked outside my apartment, the engine turned off, as he listens.

“I was walking around for so long today that when I texted you, it was only after I figured out where I was. I got lost in a city I’ve known all my life,” I laugh. “I didn’t even know that was possible.”

He doesn’t interrupt, he just nods as he listens.

“I then ran into this weird lady. She tried to grab me and take me somewhere with her, and I pushed her away. Hard. I am not even sure how I did it. Then I turned and ran as fast as I could. But as I was running, I turned down a blind corner and the street was completely dark and silent, no light anywhere. I eventually saw the light of the train station up ahead, and then I called you.” I was shaking at this point. “Crazy, right?”

“No, you still don’t sound crazy,” he replies. “It sounds like you went through more than one terrible experience in one day, and you need some rest.” He turns to face me. “Do you want to be alone tonight.”

“No.”

“Come home with me. My father is off for at least two more days. That will give you some peace. Then, if you want, I’ll drop you back home, or we can go somewhere else. Your choice. I’m here for you, whatever you need.”

Tears run down my face. “Thank you. Yes, I’d like that very much, please.”

I blink, and the next thing I know, Arthur is shaking me gently to let me know we have arrived. Holding my hand, he leads me into his home. Holding my hand, Arthur guides me up the stairs and into his room. Without saying anything, he hands me one of his shirts.

Standing at the edge of his bed, Arthur climbs in and pulls back the comforter. “On or off?” he asks. I blush.

He grins. “I meant the lights, unless you want to…” He wiggles his eyebrows at me.

Laughter comes bubbling from my lips, breaking the spell of my earlier fright. I didn’t realize how much I needed that release. “Can you just hold me tonight?” I ask. He nods. “And please, can we keep the lights on, I’m…”

Arthur opens his arms in welcome. “Of course,” he kisses my hair. I cuddle into him, wrapping myself in the offered comfort of his warmth. We fit together as if we had known each other for a lifetime, rather than just a few days. It seems impossible that a heart could grow so attached so quickly, but I know, somehow I just know this is different.

Our bare legs move to wrap around one another, and the sound of his heartbeat drains away the last of my fear. I feel my eyelids drooping.

The last thing I hear is “sweet dreams.”

Unfortunately, my dreams are anything but sweet.

She is waiting.

In her hand is a gleaming sword.

010: Dark Crescent

[Faye]

A woman sits before me on a simple bench of dark wood, polished mirror bright, gleaming in the moonlight. Her long nails, tapered to points, tap against the hilt of the sword that lay across her lap. It is a grand sword, a ruby the size of a robin’s egg set into a steel pommel. A blue glow emanates from the sword blade, reflecting the moonlight into her face, casting it in a sharp, ghostly relief. She is draped in black leather armor, molded to her form as a second skin. Her hair is an inky red, like cut gemstones, or congealed, dried blood. She is watching me, and as I look up, her eyes rest on mine. She has eyes the color of lavender and crushed violets, ringed in amethyst. Her ears, pierced in a constellation of gems and golden hoops, end in a high, tapered point. In some ways, we share a resemblance, only her skin glows from an inner fire in a way that is otherworldly. Where her arms are bare, I see the edges of elaborate tattoos--serpents twisting up each arm and bands of knot work. On her forehead is one more tattoo, that of a dark crescent. As the moon rises behind her, dark and black, our eyes break contact as she sits up taller.

“So you are the one?” Her fingers rap a steady beat: Ba, da, ba, da, ba…Ba, da, ba, da, ba… “I have been waiting for you. What are you called, child?”

“Faye,” I stammer, my tongue as heavy as a stone. “My name is Faye.”

The edges of her lips curl. “Interesting choice…. Faye.”

The silence stretches between us as the conversation.

“Who are you?” I dare to ask.

As her back straightens, her bench melts like a liquid shadow, swirling around her as it extends along her back, becoming a tall throne. From its back, a corona of smoky quartz grows into long, smooth, spikes. As she sits up taller, the dark moon, centered above her head, is highlighted around its circumference with a radiating light of neon violet, casting her sharp, proud features in a violet shadow. In her hair, raven feathers shine at the edges of braids that end in perfect ringlets. On her brow sits a simple crown of crystal and obsidian.

I take a step forward, fighting the urge to throw myself at her feet.

“Are you a god?” my voice shakes with the trembling of my muscles, still fighting her pull.

At that, she laughs, its tone rich as freshly turned soil, dark and seductive. “No, I am not a god.”

“Well then, what are you?”

“Who.”

“Who…who are you?”

The woman smiles, a sadness in her gaze. “I am the one who was. The one who never got to be. I am the denied one, the dark queen who did not rise. But you…” Her gaze captures mine once more, “You, if you still need a way to know me, you may call me Morgana.”

“Why have you been waiting for me, M..Morgana?”

Her gaze turns serious as she rises from her throne and approaches me. I start to back away.

“Stop. You need not fear me. You need not fear the darkness.”

I shiver. “Are you the one who sent the darkness?”

“No child,” she shakes her head, “It was you”

She stands before me now. Reaching down, she takes my hand in hers. Her nails grip the insides of my wrists. I try to pull away, but she digs in. From where her nails enter my flesh, I feel a slow burn. Looking down at my arms, I see serpents glowing along my arms, burning their way into my flesh, settling in like living things of blue ink, until my arms look like hers, marked identically. A part of me knows this is right, that this is what should be, while another part of me is terrified by the change. It is me, but it is not me, it is something different, something foreign. I feel invaded, infected, by her. I fight against it, but she digs in harder.

Her mouth doesn’t open. As I think about it, her mouth didn’t do anything but smile and laugh this entire time. Not once did I hear her voice. And yet, she still spoke and still speaks to me.

She stands before me now. Pressing her cold forehead against my own, she whispers. “It is time for you to remember.”

Morgana’s head pulls away, her eyes just inches from my own. I still feel the press of her crown into my forehead, the crescent moon at its center having cut me, leaving its mark. A trail of warm blood runs down my face.

“It is time for you to wake up.”

She presses the mark on my brow and I feel it burning, branding me.

I stumble backward and scream as I fall through the darkness.