Kess
The rain beat against the side of the house as it plummeted from the smoky sky. Thunder shook drenched sidewalks, made bowed blades of grass shiver, and the water ran in rivulets on the concrete as if frantically running for cover in the cracks between the blocks of cement sidewalk. The girl, standing in the grass not far from the street, hugged herself and twisted her upper body side to side; her ruffled, spaghetti-strapped dress clung to her, weighed down by summer rain. She pushed sopping burgundy hair out of eyes pale as a cloud and smiled at the young man who stood beside her. "Jarrah," she begged, "take me flying?"
He laughed, the sound not quite a low rumble in his chest. "Kess, I shouldn't be using my wings so often," he scolded, but despite his protests, Kess slipped her hand into his and met his eyes, her gaze pleading. Jarrah chuckled again, the wise look in his eyes betraying his seemingly young age. "No, Kess. Not today." He shut his eyes for a moment, fell deep into himself, became still. "Tomorrow." He opened his eyes again. "It'll storm again tomorrow night." He moved to walk away but didn't let go of the girl's hand, so, slightly disappointed, she was forced to follow him. "Let's go inside," he suggested, his eyes twinkling. "You're entirely too wet."
Kess scoffed and spun around in the downpour. "I love the rain!" Then she sighed, glancing at her friend and catching his eye. "Oh. Fine."
She led the way into her house, climbing up three sturdy, stone stairs to a wide, wooden porch. Pale halos of light from the porch lamps--oil lamps, their wicks almost completely burned down--revealed three wicker chairs, white, with flowered cushions that would now be damp from the weather. A wind chime made of shells clattered loudly in the wind, but Kess ignored that and smiled at Jarrah as she gathered first her dress, then her hair, in her hands and wrung them out. Droplets of water plopped to the porch floor into a puddle around her bare feet. Jarrah reached out to twist the doorknob and push the door open as Kess pulled her hair into a bun at the back of her head.
"Why is it so dark?" he queried. He flicked a switch just inside the door; nothing happened. No light, just darkness pierced through by the occasional flicker of lightning. Frowning, he turned back to Kess.
"Crap!" she said in a voice just louder than a mutter. Something like impatient despair shifted in her chest and she sighed. "The power's out again." She walked over to the door, her wet feet leaving footprints on the wooden planks that made up the porch. She hoped vaguely that no splinters would await her in the soft skin of her arches when she checked later. "I'm sorry, Jarrah. This always happens. That's what we get for buying an inexpensive house." She laughed dryly. "I'll find candles."
He smiled and followed her inside, closing the door as another crack of thunder shook the foundation of the house. Lightning illuminated the inside of the house for a fraction of a second and Kess stumbled over to the small table in the foyer of her home, picked up a pair of square, thin-framed glasses. After she put them on, Jarrah handed her a towel from a stack of clean laundry on the stairs and she dried off more thoroughly. Jarrah had offered to keep her dry when it had started raining, but she'd refused; she loved to stand outside on the lawn, her feet sinking into mud, her skin coated with rain. So, as a result, she was drenched, and Jarrah, who had cheated by using his powers, in her opinion, was completely dry.
Kess ventured into the sitting room to the left of the foyer, a room with an entire wall of windows that revealed, during daylight, the ceiling-to-floor bookshelves that lined the walls. She went to the desk in the corner and Jarrah followed, his steps silent, as if he walked on a cushion of air. Faery steps, Kess reminded herself, and smiled. She found candles on the top of the desk and matches in a drawer, then turned around and followed Jarrah into the kitchen. "Oh!" She set the waxy cylinders down on the round wooden table, a great black shadow in the darkness. "I should probably get dry clothes." She felt her friend's smile. "Mind lighting these? I'll be right back." His shape moved in the dark, a graceful not of the head, and he reached for the matches.
Kess darted up the stairs and slipped into her pajamas--fluffy sweatpants and a camisole. She shivered in the air-conditioned room, ran her tongue over her lip ring as she stood in the middle of her bedroom, lost in thought for a quick moment. Then she grabbed a blanket, too, and threw her damp dress into the dirty laundry hamper to deal with later before returning downstairs.
Jarrah had lit the candles and arranged them in a circle in the middle of the table. The flames gave off soft, flickering light that lit up just enough space around them. Kess sighed and dropped into the chair across from her friend.
"I bet you'll get sick again," he voiced aloud, staring at her with obsidian eyes. Kess wrapped herself in the blanket and put her head on the table. Jarrah leaned forward, his hand reached out, pale light enveloping his fingers, ready to use his powers to help her. "Are you okay?"
She made a grunt of affirmation and pushed his hand away without looking up. "Yes. Just tired."
He pulled back but kept his eyes on her. After a beat of silence, he said, "I'm going to have to leave soon. For a few days." His voice was apologetic, as if it pained him to snatch away the promise of flying yet again. He closed his eyes. "I'm--we're--being called back home. It happened while you were upstairs." She looked up at him, saw the bitterness in his eyes. He reached forward to stroke her arm.
"Why? What's wrong? Is it the war? Has something--?" Her questions came quickly only because she understood what ensued between Genesis and Sheol, the heavens and hells that waited in front of her after she died. Jarrah had given her his knowledge of those places over the years he'd known her. Jarrah was a Feylen and at the mercy of the leader of Genesis, could be called back to the third heaven at will.
Her friend shook his head; his hair, a mixture of liquid mercury and inky black, fell into his eyes. "No, Kess. I don't know." His voice was short; was he annoyed with her? "Can you do me a favor, while I'm gone?"
She nodded, waited for him to speak.
"Stay out of trouble. I--I don't know--" He faltered, which was odd for him, Kess thought. Jarrah was always so sure about everything. Pictures, vivid and void of color at once, spilled through her mind at his tone of voice, at the expression the lines of his knitted eyebrows made. She was sensitive to others' feelings, had always been, but was even more keen to that of her sister's and Jarrah's. "Something's happened," he continued. "Just be careful. Please?"
She nodded and dropped her head back down on the table, closed her eyes. The colors faded from her mind slowly, and she began to relax. The rhythmic sound of the rain thrumming against the roof, blending with the constant soothing movement of Jarrah's thumb on her arm, made her sleepy. Lightning flashed periodically, but less often than before; when the thunder rumbled, it was distant. "The storm's moving away," she mumbled, her voice slurred with sudden exhaustion. Somewhere in the back of her mind, she didn't doubt that Jarrah had something to do with the way she was so quickly falling asleep.
"Jarrah," she began to accuse, but she was already drifting out of consciousness...
---
Sunlight spilled across the wooden table and into Kess's eyes when she woke up. Bright light that made the waxy candles, no longer burning, shimmer, and she immediately shut her eyes again. "Too bright," she muttered. Someone laughed across the table; Kess snatched her head from the table and the blanket she'd been wearing slipped from her shoulders. She glared across from her at the girl in front of her. "What the hell, Wystan? You scared me."
Kess's twin laughed. "Sorry," she whispered in a voice identical to Kess's own. They would have looked the same, too--an exact mirror of each other, if Kess hadn't dyed her hair. Wystan's pale brown curls were softer, shorter, pulled back with pins to reveal a face void of any piercings but one simple silver hoop in each ear. When she smiled, her rose-colored lips revealed teeth as straight as her sister's, and both shared the same pale eyes and nearly invisible, long lashes that were enhanced with mascara.
Kess stood up and stretched, not bothering to stop the blanket from falling to the floor. "Where's Jarrah?" she asked while she yawned.
"He left when I got home. I had to stay at Ian's house longer than I'd planned because of the storm." Ian, Wystan's boyfriend. He lived barely a ten minutes' drive away.
"The storm was that bad? And I slept through it?" She thought back and remembered what her best friend had done, then smiled. "Oh." Her grin faded when she also realized that he'd never said when he would be back.
"Yeah. Ian fell asleep before I left." She giggled. "The power's back on, by the way."
"What time is it?" Kess let her gaze roam the small kitchen, her eyes sliding over a petite stove, blue-grey tiles on the floor, light wooden cabinets. Light streamed through the windowpanes above the sink, and Kess heard her stomach growl.
"Seven o'clock," her sister supplied.
Kess's eyes widened. "Seriously? Crap. I have to be at work for my shift in half an hour! Did you make coffee?" Her words spilled out of her mouth in a hurry; she was suddenly frantic, picking up her blanket and folding it with hands that moved too fast.
Wystan stood up. "Yeah, I made some. I'll get it for you while you get dressed."
Kess smiled gratefully. "You're the best." She ran up the stairs quickly, then went into her room. She and Wystan had bought the house together and lived alone, so both had a bedroom to themselves; their parents resided in Virginia's Appalachian Mountains, a lengthy drive from the twins' home by the Maryland shore of the Potomac. Kess sighed and pushed the door of her room open, heading straight to the closet. She grabbed a decent pair of jeans and a striped tank top, then changed and slipped on a pair of plain, black ballet-type flats. She moved into the bathroom, brushed her hair and pulled it back with an elastic band, Glancing at her reflection on her way out, she stopped and realized she's have to wash her face; eye make-up smeared across her cheeks, a result of the previous night's lingering in the rain.
She didn't wait for the water to get warm; instead, she shoved her hands underneath the faucet and splashed cold water over her face, scrubbed at her skin until the make-up was gone. She dried her face, put on lotion, then applied dark mascara and grey and blue eyeshadows. Her toothbrush lay less than an arm's reach from her; she grabbed it, brushed her teeth, then found her waitress apron in her room and made her way back downstairs. As she folded the hideous green apron over her arm, she wondered why on earth she had taken the early morning shift on a Saturday, of all days. What is wrong with me?
Wystan sat at the kitchen table, dressed in a dark green dress and sipping from her mug. Another steaming mug of coffee was across from her; Kess sat down and inhaled the wonderful aroma that filled the kitchen, then pressed her fingers around the warm ceramic, took a sip. The coffee was the way she loved it; sugar, no milk. Hot. "Thanks, Wystan," she murmured, blowing steam from the air in front of her. "This is great."
Her twin checked her watch. "Drink quickly," she advised. "I don't know if the roads are messy."
Kess nodded, downed her coffee--too bad if she burned her tongue--and grabbed her keys. "Gotta go." She stood up, blew Wystan a kiss. "Love you!"
"'Bye," Wystan called, but Kess had already left; all that answered her was the soft sound of the door snapping shut.
Kess slid into the front seat of her old VW and threw her bag onto the passenger side. When she turned on the car, the clock read 7:20 a.m.; she swore, backed out of the driveway, sped down the road. If there were trees down, or the part of the road that always flooded was closed, like Wystan had hinted at, Kess would be late. She turned a corner and exhaled with relief; there were larger-than-usual puddles in the road, but nothing severe. She laughed when she drove through them too fast and the muddy water sprayed across her windshield. A few swipes of the windshield wipers erased the droplets of water, and Kess turned on the stereo to listen to whatever CD was in the player while she drove to work.
It took a mere seven minutes to get to the café, and Kess rushed through the door with a few moments to spare. The bell above the door tinkled a welcome when she entered, tying her apron over her clothes. Her "Hello, my name is..." tag was still pinned to her front from her last shift; she barely glanced at it before reaching into her bag to pull out an order pad and few pens to store in her apron pocket. She stuck one behind her left ear as she made her way into the back of the restaurant.
"Mmm, smells good!" she called into the kitchen. She stuck her head through the door and waved at Sonya, the cook. The aroma of fresh coffee and bread flooded Kess's senses; she smiled, closed the door, and settled her belongings on a shelf underneath the ordering counter. Then she grabbed plates, utensils, and napkins, quickly circled the floor, setting each of the small tables deftly and with the air of much practice. Customers wouldn't arrive until eight, but Kess preferred to have everything set up before the café opened. The back door opened and one of the other waiters walked in. "Hey," Finn greeted her; she grinned, punched him playfully in the arm as he passed. "How about that storm last night?"
Kess laughed sheepishly. "I slept through it."
He looked at her incredulously. "You what? Kess, the thunderstorm lover, slept through the first one of the summer?" He was teasing her, but he was right; Kess did love storms, almost more than was good for her. One reason why summer was her favorite season.
"Well, I was outside for part of it," she confessed. "Jarrah was with me." Finn knew Jarrah well; he came to the café often, sometimes to eat, sometimes just to visit his closest friend. "And then the power went out again," she added with a groan. "I'm running out of candles."
Finn laughed, but his words were serious. "You really should get that checked out," he advised. "Shitty electricity sucks."
Kess nodded in agreement and slipped back behind the counter. "Got that right." She went over to the coffee pot and poured some for herself into a Styrofoam cup. "Want some?" she asked Finn, and he nodded. "Please. Carie and I were up all night. I need major caffeine." Kess shook her head and poured another cup for him, unsurprised that his girlfriend had stayed over in his tiny apartment with him yet again.
They leaned against the counter and sipped their coffee for a moment in silence. Kess let the hot liquid slide down her throat, savoring its bitter taste, imagining the caffeine making its way into her blood, waking her up, supplying false energy. Oh, the wonders of coffee. She checked her phone for the time: nearly eight o'clock. "Time to unlock the door," she announced, and Finn jumped up, tenderly setting his cup down on the counter.
"My turn!"
Kess scoffed. "Go for it." She rolled her eyes. "Can't believe you actually get excited about opening."
The customers trickled in soon after eight; regulars, familiar faces that Kess saw every Saturday and whose orders she knew by heart. She found herself busy, swept up in the concentration of taking orders, keeping conversation with the solo diners, bringing out plates of delicious-smelling breakfast foods. The sound of the bell above the door became an almost constant noise as customers came and left, and time blurred, going by quickly the way it did only when Kess was waitressing. Business slowed around ten-thirty, and she let Finn take care of his section and let their busboy clean up hers, now empty for a few precious minutes. She wiped her forehead, pushing her long, red bangs out of her face with the pencil she kept behind her ear. She hadn't had time to think about Jarrah for nearly three hours; now, though, she sat behind the counter, drinking a second cup of coffee, wondering why he had left so suddenly. Despite his dismissal of her mention of the war the night before, Kess speculated that his disappearance had something to do with it. New information, perhaps? Or just his God complaining, feeling the need to have his trusted Feylens with him for a few days?
The bell rang above the din of the few customers still seated; Kess automatically looked up towards the door. The two people that entered the building weren't familiar; Kess had become accustomed to memorizing faces, and she knew she hadn't seen the dark-skinned girl with hundreds of braids sprouting from her head before, nor the young man, pale beside her luminescent beauty. But her senses recognized the girl immediately as a Feylen, and she watched with an odd sense of relief as they sat down in her section. She was by their table in moments, pouring ice water into their empty glasses. "Can I get you something to drink?" she began, her pen poised above a clean order sheet.
The dark girl waved her hand, cutting Kess off. "Just coffee for me. We're not getting food." Kess glanced at the other customer, who smiled thinly and shook his head. Nothing for him, then--
Kess blinked, confused for the brief moment she had met his eyes. Up close, the pale human looked more like a woman than a man; the blonde hair was cropped in a style seen more often on young women, and the shape of the body was more feminine. Were her eyes red? Kess blinked again and shook her head, then glanced again at the Feylen's companion. No, not red. Dark brown...The Feylen cleared her throat and Kess looked at her. "Oh--" she stammered. "Sorry." She backed away, unable to keep her eyes away from the pale woman for a few more breathless moments. Then she wrenched her gaze from her and turned around, fled behind the counter to pour coffee in a ceramic mug.
Her hands shook and her breathing was uneven. She nearly spilled the coffee as she poured it out, and when she turned around, Finn was watching her. "Are you all right?" he inquired, and she managed a nod.
"I must have had too much coffee," she lied. Her excuse satisfied him, though, and she pushed past him to set the mug on a tray and bring it over to the table. "Your coffee," she whispered when she set the drink down in front of the strange Feylen. She straightened and studied the darker girl for a moment, then opened her mouth to speak. "Do you know Jarrah?" She hadn't planned on saying the words that came out, but managed to avoid blushing and instead waited for the girl's answer.
She looked at Kess incredulously, as if she were crazy. "Who?"
Kess swallowed, took an involuntary step backwards. "Never mind, I just thought--" She shook her head. "Enjoy your coffee. My name is--is Kess. Call me over if you need anything." She forced out the words, tried to make them sound normal, then turned around and fled from the table for the second time that morning.
Had she been wrong about the woman, about her being a Feylen? Kess didn't usually make mistakes like that; her senses had sharpened from being around Jarrah for so many years, and she could pick out a Feylen from a crowd of humans in seconds. And she was fairly sure all of the Feylens knew each other; Jarrah had once mentioned a connection of some sort...so why didn't the girl recognize his name? Kess grabbed a damp cloth and mopped up spilled coffee on the counter. She glanced at the couple sitting at the table from under her lashes, saw them speaking softly together. The black-haired girl's coffee was untouched, sitting by her elbow with the spoon on the saucer. Kess must have stared too long; the blonde looked up and met her gaze. Suddenly the eyes were garnet again, and a voice pressed into her mind: She is a fallen Feylen. Not your friend's kind. Stop thinking, human. You'll hurt yourself.
Kess panicked, dropping the cloth she held on the floor. She followed it, going to her knees to grab it off the tiles. "Finn," she said, a little above a whisper. He was there in a moment. Her vision blurred. "Can you take the table with the two girls over there? I don't feel well." She looked up at him in time to see him nod and pat her shoulder. When he walked away, she stood up, bolted into the kitchen.
Sonya stood by the stove, humming along to the song on the radio and flipping pancakes. Breakfast ended in fifteen minutes, but someone must have gotten a late start to the day. The cook glanced over at Kess. "You all right, sweetheart?" She was a comfortably plump woman, around thirty years old, with honey-colored hair pulled up on the top of her head to keep it out of the way while she was cooking.
Kess nodded numbly without thinking about her gesture. It had been years since anyone but Jarrah had been inside her head. And he did that rarely. So rarely that she had forgotten the panic it brought her to have someone invading her mind. "Can I help you?" she asked.
Sonya smiled and jerked a thumb towards the dishwasher. "You can load that. It's about time to wash them. Gotta get it done before the lunch rush."
"Okay." Kess didn't bother to explain that she'd get to leave at noon, as soon as one of the other waitresses showed up. Sonya was distracted, only needed another pair of hands in the kitchen to help. Kess complied, walked over to the sink and loaded the dishwasher with mechanic, monotonous movements. She checked her phone when she finished, saw that she had half an hour left on her shift. Would the two girls be gone by now? She glanced through the door, which was opened a crack, saw that the table was empty and could breathe again. Another family sat in her section, however, and she knew, somehow, that they were completely normal. "Sonya," she said aloud. "I finished. There's a table I have to get to."
"Go ahead," she replied, distracted. "Tell them breakfast is over."
Kess smiled, one corner of her lips turning up, and shouldered the door open, grabbed her order pad from the counter. Whatever those girls were, she wouldn't think about them now. Work came first. And it was almost time to leave; the four hours had gone by fast, as always when the café was busy. She headed over to the table, introduced herself to the small kids seated by their parents. Put on a stretched-out smile that looked natural to any customer not looking close enough while she wondered, When I get home, will Jarrah be back?