One of our shorter chapters, again. Please, go easy on us when you review. Be gentle, young ones. We apologize ahead of time for your future reading.
All our love,
Lolly and Hayley.
P.S. The Chapter should be up after this one.
8 -
Dinner was a pretty disturbing affair.
Dani wasn't even there. I think that was about the only plus. Other than that, this eerie sort of vibe that hung in the air sort of creeped me out. Like death was still out to get us, even if we did manage to narrowly escape it.
On the downside, CeeCee was pretty quiet. Her face looked tired from all the crying she did earlier. And Adam was acting weird. Edgy-like, you know? He looked scared, surprised, and a little baffled too.
Which is, you know, totally understandable, considering how the two of them were almost killed this afternoon. That's gotta be hard to swallow, you know? Especially since they really had no idea what was really going or who was really chucking all that dirt at them.
But I bet that, after their steamy shower, they were feeling a little bit better.
Makes you wonder. I mean, it's not like I'll ever have anyone to shower with, is it?
I mean, even when I was in love with Jesse, back then, we couldn't exactly SHOWER together. I mean, he was embarrassed enough when I was in a BIKINI. So forget the pair of us standing naked together, sheesh.
And secondly, it's not as if hot water would be all that special for him. He couldn't feel it.
But due to the fact that there is NO love lost between me and Jesse nowadays, the likelihood of me showering with him is a) kind of gross now, and b) not going to happen.
So I shut the hell up and stared at my curry chicken. It was a wonder that CeeCee and Adam were capable of cooking, after what they'd been through.
And even though I'm sure it tasted wonderful, I couldn't bear to savor it. It was like the chicken was glaring back at me, saying, 'Hey, you're not supposed to be eating me. You're supposed to be DEAD'.
GOOD ONE, SUZE. WAY TO WASTE A NICE MEAL.
I poked at it with my fork. Curry chicken doesn't talk, so what does it know? I TOTALLY saved the day. I have a right to sit and eat, right? Hero's grand dinner, you know?
I didn't feel like much of a hero. I still felt vulnerable and unsafe. I noticed that I wasn't the only one, though. Adam's usually empty plate was filled, with only a few bites of chicken eaten.
So I wasn't the only one freaked out by chicken. I know that sounds strange because the chicken was dead.
But so were the Misforts. And look at the damage they almost caused.
Jack was staring at me and Paul silently for the first half of the meal, which, while horribly quiet, was probably the most bearable half. I guess that isn't saying very much, since Jack's inquisitive mind soon got him into some serious trouble.
'What was up with those guys, Suze?' Jack asked.
At first, I really had no idea what he was talking about, so I just stared at him. He elaborated with, 'You know, with the whole graveyard thing? Why were they after Adam and CeeCee?'
'I don't know,' I answered uncomfortably. I really didn't want to tell Jack that it wasn't just Adam and Cee they were after. I mean, if the whole 'one favor per ghostie' deal Robin set up was any indicator of what they really wanted.
Jack was thirteen. He didn't need to know the gory details.
'But they had to have a reason,' Jack pleaded. 'I mean, they wouldn't just throw them in a ditch for nothing, would they?'
I blinked a few times, really surprised at Jack. My was he a little curious this evening. Usually, he just let things be. He didn't question what we did because he knew we'd never tell him what was really going on. So he just let it happen while he did his own thing.
But there's only so much you could hide. And what went down in the graveyard was just a little too obvious to sweep under the rug. He'd already heard about the damage and everything.
'They want us out,' I told him plainly. There was no sense lying to him.
He looked confused for a moment. 'But . . . we're trying to help them, aren't we?' Jack asked, looking around the table for reassurance.
I nodded. We were trying to help, but the Misfortunates didn't want help. They wanted revenge. Or that's what I thought, at least.
Jack continued, 'Then why would they do that? I don't get it. It's not fair.'
'Things in life aren't always fair,' CeeCee said, so softly she was barely heard. I noticed she was staring down at the curry chicken in front of her. She hadn't touched it either.
There was a silence so uncomfortable you could practically see everyone squirming in their seats. No one talked or made eye contact of any kind.
Well, except Adam, after a while. He was acting so weird. 'So. What are we going to do now with our ghosties then?' he asked with a forced laugh.
His voice sounded so unwelcome after such a dead silence.
'Me and de Silva'll handle them from now on,' Paul said very quietly. 'They're starting to target Suze. I don't know what they'll do now that they realize she has power, but I don't want to risk it.'
If Dani had been here – she wasn't – she probably would have been all, "They're out to get me TOO. Don't forget about me, Paul. Suze isn't the ONLY victim of the sex-crazed ghosts!"
However, unfortunately, it seemed I was.
Ha. Bet Robin wouldn't bash HER head into a door . . .
He'd probably let her go free in exchange for copping a nice, long feel of her bazookas.
'Um,' Adam said, 'Is there any way that we could . . . you know . . . ' he blushed very darkly. 'Uh . . . just, you know . . . ' he looked sideways at CeeCee, 'We can't see any of them – me and Cee I mean – so maybe just for safety precautions we should – I mean, maybe Jesse could stand around or something – '
Having declared himself unmanly in front of his woman, he went even redder with shame. But CeeCee nodded seriously. 'Yeah. Could he do that?'
'Apparently he'll be with Suze,' Paul said in the dullest of humored tones.
I threw him a glare.
CeeCee gave me a funny look, but I ignored it. Great. Now CeeCee and ADAM will think I'm sleeping with Jesse too.
GAWD.
'He can mind them,' I said quickly. 'I mean, he just stands around anyway.'
Just in case you had OTHER THOUGHTS ON YOUR MINDS.
And with another glare at Paul, we all fell silent again.
I poked at my dinner with my fork. I didn't feel very hungry still.
Jack, seeing the tension, changed the subject. 'So, Suze . . . I heard you tore up the cemetery. Corpses everywhere and everything! How did you do it?'
I shrugged.
'Did the ghosts attack again? What did they do? And was that why CeeCee and Adam looked all muddy? Did they try to get them too?' he asked, his eyes getting brighter with each question. 'Can I make cemeteries blow up too? If I practice, a lot, I mean. Because I really want to learn. Can you teach me how? Is it – ?'
'Jack, I think we've had enough questions from you for tonight,' Paul interjected, sending a cutting glare at him from across the table.
. . . Okay. The PMS of PMS is kicking in.
Jack protested. 'Nah,' he said, 'Remember what you said Paul? Last time Suze didn't tell you something? How me and you were part of the SIA too, and that we had a right to know when stuff happens? Well, it's only fair that you tell me too, because I'm apart of the SIA as well, and - '
'Jack, shut up,' Paul snapped at him.
Jack fell silent quite quickly, looking hurt and betrayed.
By his own flesh and blood.
He stared down at his food for a second. After looking blankly at the chicken, as if willing it to dive down his throat and choke him or something, he stood up and muttered, 'I'm going to go read - '
'Stay where you are,' Paul growled at him.
'No,' Jack said.
'Yes,' Paul retorted, resting his fork, looking ready for a fight.
'You're not my dad,' Jack said furiously, 'Shut up, Paul - '
Paul gave Jack the most furious glare I'd thought he'd reserved for Jesse de Silva alone. It was one that made Jack quail.
'Fine,' Paul said acidly at his little brother, 'Get out then. Go on. No one's making you stay at the table now.'
Jack stared, wide-eyed.
'Get out!' Paul yelled.
'Paul,' CeeCee said in warning at him.
Paul relaxed a little in his seat, shooting Jack an ugly look.
And finally . . . the true sibling colors emerge.
I KNEW that all of that stuff between the two of them had been an act. Jack had seemed so plastic. And Paul . . . don't get me started on him.
Jack's chair scraped across the floor of the large dining room, the noise echoing throughout the entire room.
Then he stood up and left.
CeeCee rounded on Paul. 'What the hell was that for?' she demanded hotly.
Paul shrugged. 'He needs to grow up,' was all he said in his defense.
I gave him a horrible look, stood up, and followed Jack right out of the stupid room.
'Jack,' I called after him as I tore down the hallway, 'Jack, wait up.'
But he had turned a few corners, and I had lost him. I listened for some indication of where he might be at, but couldn't hear a thing, except for maybe a few creaks in the floorboards as I wandered around.
The last thing I needed was for Jack to go running off in the school alone. I mean, the Misforts already went after CeeCee and Adam. Sure, they went away after I tore up the graveyard. I'm not worried about that. I'm worried about what'll happen when I'm NOT around to stop them.
Who knows? They might throw Jack into more dumbwaiters.
I found the stairs and sat on them, resting for a moment. I had been calling for Jack for a while, and my vocal chords were starting to sting with strain. Plus, I was still feeling a little battered from the whole graveyard thing.
Finally, I heard a door in the distance slamming dramatically, and I knew exactly where Jack was. Where do all teenagers retreat when shit happens? Their rooms, DUH.
Okay, so it really wasn't HIS room. But it was where he lived temporarily, until this mystery was solved.
I jogged up the stairs quickly and found my way to his door, tapping on it ever so lightly.
'Jack,' I said again, 'Please come out. It's me, Suze.'
He didn't answer. I knew he was trying to pull that 'If I'm quiet she'll leave me alone' thing. I employed that same strategy on my mom after the whole Big-Sur incident. She was concerned because I had practically locked myself in my room the rest of the summer until I went off to Boston.
I opened the door slowly, to reveal a sulking Jack, lying on his stomach, face in his pillow. He wasn't crying or anything, just lying there.
'Okay,' I said, 'I'm not going to ask what's wrong, because I know that already, and 'what's wrong?' is a stupid question, because there's always a lot that's wrong and it's just a matter of pinpointing the thing that's the most wrong at that moment. Which is stupid. Because there's a LOT wrong between you and your brother,' I said.
He murmured at me. Just a noise.
'Firstly, your brother's a prize-winning asshole,' I informed him. 'And secondly, if that had have been me, I wouldn't have said a thing differently. Although, at the end, instead of walking off, I would have told him where shove it, and I would have thrown my chicken - which I hadn't touched all night - at his face. But that's just me.'
Jack ignored me.
I sat down next to him on his bed, still not meriting any real response from him.
'Look, Jack,' I said, poking him a little on the shoulder, 'you can't let Paul push you around all the time. I mean, I let him for years, and look how I turned out. You don't want to turn out like me, do you?'
'Better you than HIM,' Jack said, his voice muffled from the pillow.
'Yeah right. He's a hot-shot lawyer with a super-model girlfriend. He's got me beat hands down.'
Jack lifted his head from his pillow and stared at me with his hard blue eyes. 'You don't get it.'
. . . Says the emotional thirteen year old.
I gave him a wry smile. 'I don't?'
'You don't get it at all,' he repeated, shifting so that he was now laying on his side.
'What do you mean?'
Jack sighed. 'My parents want me to be like Paul. EVERYONE wants me to be like Paul. But I don't want his stupid life. He can HAVE it and shove it up his butt, for all I care.'
Wow. Go Jack. I was intrigued, so I continued to listen.
'People think it's so perfect. I hate it. His life, I mean. Well, it's not. His job is boring and stupid. And Dani? She's pretty, but I know that she hates me. The only reason Paul's going out with her is so they can show off how 'perfect' they are when really the only thing they really have in common is that they're miserable. Dani's, like, bulimic or whatever because she hates herself. And Paul . . . he ruins anything that's good. He has to go mess up stuff for other people because he knows his life sucks just as much as everyone else's. He just wants people to think he's better.'
I couldn't even think of how to reply to that. Not when my mind was whirling as fast as it was, right then.
'I'm not going to be like him,' Jack resolved. 'I never wanted to be. I remember asking for Paul's help after finding out he could see ghosts, too. He told me that I would never be like him. I wasn't powerful enough. Or strong enough. The only person that has the power to be like him is you, Suze. But he's not going to let you get there without ripping you to shreds first.'
I sat, quite stunned by that revelation. 'What?' I asked, having heard him perfectly. I felt numbed. Startled.
Jack looked a little guilty about what he'd said. As if he'd come out of a trance of depression, or something. Ha, wish I'd come out of mine. ' . . . Sorry,' he said after a moment, 'I didn't - '
'He said that?' I asked stiffly.
I couldn't understand how a thirteen year old could have seen his world, and had made such accurate observations. It was frightening.
It was daunting to contemplate that MY life wasn't the only one that seemed screwed up beyond repair.
I wasn't alone.
. . . I'd never be alone . . .
'Jack,' I said slowly. 'Listen to me. You are NOTHING like your brother. Nothing, okay? You're better than him. You're not going to end up like him. You're going to love your life. You're not going to get bossed around by him, because you'll stand up for yourself. You'll fight him back if he EVER tries to get at you, okay?'
Why don't you take your own stinking advice and apply that to your COLE situation, Suze?
Jack sat up, using his elbows to support him. He shook his head and looked at me with hopeless eyes.
'Yeah, I'll be able to fight back,' Jack said with a sarcastic eyeroll, 'and then he can cause me to disappear by wiggling his nose or whatever. I can't mess with Paul. Not unless I want him to mess with me.'
'I tell you what,' I bargained, 'we'll leave Paul to his miserable life, and if he tries to mess up yours, I'll pound him. You saw what I did to that graveyard. I'd be more than happy to do that to Paul for you.'
Jack smiled his trademark Slater half-smile. 'That was pretty cool. I wish I could do stuff like that.'
One man's blessing is another man's burden. Things were so much simpler when I thought I was just a mere mediator, before Paul came along and turned my universe upside down. I mean, part of me wished I never learned about the extent of my ability. You know what they say . . . ignorance is bliss.
Then again, that fire stuff can come in handy. Next time I visit Gina in New York and someone tries to mug me . . . FWISH! They'd be toast. Literally.
I smiled to myself as I ruffled his hair. Maybe it was kind of cool that I did THAT. I was able to suspend CeeCee and Adam in midair while causing a huge whirlwind thing that upturned graves. Okay, it was kind of gross, but I still felt accomplished because not only did I do those things . . . I also managed to drive away the Misforts temporarily. That was, like, one obstacle down.
A gazillion more to go.
I decided to leave Jack on his own for a while to do the normal teenage angst thing, while I went back downstairs. So what if his wallowing time included plots of possible revenge? Paul wasn't the ONLY Slater with a mind to scheme. I'd heard of a few little stunts Jack pulled off without getting caught at school. And I'm not talking super glue on the teacher's pencil or anything. I say let him, as long as it doesn't involve a vicious fratricide then it'd be okay.
Yeah. Leave the Paul mauling to me.
I entered the dining hall the short way through the kitchen. Sure, it wasn't as scenic or pretty as entering the double French-style doors from the hall, but it worked. As I pushed the door open slightly, I hesitated going in because I saw Adam and CeeCee engaged in some 'romantic' activity. I didn't want to interrupt.
Adam pulled away from his kiss and stared, wide-eyed at CeeCee. He looked as if he wanted to say something . . . something important, but was at a loss for words.
CeeCee met his look with a look of concern. 'What's wrong, honey?' she asked.
Adam muttered briefly. 'Nothing. I just realized something, that's all.'
'What?' CeeCee went.
Adam looked very tense. Like, really tense. 'This may come as a surprise to you, but I've been thinking a lot.'
SHOCK!
'Huh?'
'That thing with the ghosts,' he said quickly. He ran his hands through his hair; a classic Jesse movement, one which he does in utter nervousness.
Adam McTavish does not get nervous. Something was definitely awry.
CeeCee went rather still, her lips parting slightly. Her eyes were wide. ' . . . Adam?'
Adam turned to face her again, maintaining eye-contact the whole time.
And then he did it.
He didn't dress it up. He didn't sugar coat it, like the usual Adam McTavish would do. It was not strangled by humour. It was mature, passionate, desperate, and the true plea of a man in love.
'Marry me.'
I think that Susannah Simon died just about then.
As did CeeCee Webb.
Both suffered fatal cases of an extreme overload of ecstasy that only heaven could offer.
CeeCee couldn't move. But her eyes . . . they said everything.
I got a lightning-fast recollection of something Adam had said while standing outside that stupid Club Peacock nightclub.
"You're right, I am a lucky guy. Really lucky . . . "
I'M SUCH AN IDIOT. WHY DIDN'T I FIGURE IT OUT THEN?
CeeCee stared at him. In complete, utter, paralyzed, heart-stopping love.
That look was one I'll never, ever forget.
'I don't have a ring, or anything,' Adam said breathily, 'I know, I . . . this has been put off for far too long. CeeCee, we almost died today. It could have all stopped. All before it started. Sorry to be cliché, but life's too short. Especially when some dipshit ghosts try to bury you alive – '
A tiny giggle exploded from CeeCee's mouth. 'This is crazy,' she laughed at him, not knowing what to do with herself.
I gripped the door frame, my eyes shining.
'It's not. I was crazy when I made you take the back seat to other girls – '
'That was just Suze. You tried offering Debbie a ride once when you got your VW Bug. She told you to get a life.'
'That's not the point. Cee . . . I want you to be in the front seat, from now on. In case you forgot, we almost died today. I know I come off as a fearless macho-man with the gorgeous muscles and Fabio's body, but that scared the shit out of me. I'd always thought of matching cemetery plots, Cee, but not until we were, like, a hundred and eight years old. You know, after having our ten kids and thirty grandchildren. We'd be so old we couldn't eat anything but oatmeal and applesauce – '
CeeCee threw herself into his arms, and started crying. And laughing. It was insane, really.
My heart was soaring. I can't begin to imagine where HERS was.
. . . I don't think that heaven is high enough.
Adam was whispering into her hair, and she was laughing, and she was saying yes, and he was hugging her, and she was loving him, and I loved the both of them for loving each other like that . . .
And then like a complete dumbass, I waddled in there and hugged the both of them, screaming like the world's biggest loser.
And we were all laughing.
And forgetting how to breathe.
And a lot of other stuff.
A hell of a lot.
I guess that the engagement of your two best friends can blaze through the darkness like a very, very strong flashlight.
8 -
'CEECEE AND ADAM ARE GETTING MARRIED!' Jack squealed energetically, hugging CeeCee, 'WHEN ARE YOU GETTING MARRIED? CAN I COME? ARE YOU MARRYING HER JUST BECAUSE YOU GOT HER PREGNANT, OR SOMETHING?'
CeeCee looked rather alarmed. 'I'm not pregnant,' she corrected him, her eyes wide for a second.
Jack beamed wildly. God. I swear that little boy has PMS. His moods fluctuate more than tropical weather. ' . . . OH MY GOD!'
We were all camped out in CeeCee and Adam's room. Don't ask why. I was pretty wary about sitting on their bed, too. I mean, it wasn't made or anything, and God knows what those poor sheets have been through during their stay.
Now they could boff each other's brains out IN wedlock. So it's all good.
I couldn't have been happier for them. The more selfish parts of me were feeling sorry for myself, but I REFUSE to regard said parts, because they suck and no one likes them.
Kind of like Dani.
Who, you know, turned up then. 'Who died?' she asked, 'Is Jack still in a strop?'
We, sitting on the soon-to-be McTavish's bed, gave her half excited, half stony looks. 'No one died,' I said spitefully.
'And I was NOT in a strop,' Jack objected. 'Whatever that is.'
CeeCee, not able to hide her euphoria, and apparently not able to expose her Dani-hate, burbled, 'Adam just proposed!'
The strangest look came across Dani's face then. Her tanned skin seemed to lose the slightest shade of colour, and her vividly violet contacted eyes had a film of stone over them. Her too-red lips parted, and then closed.
And then her face cracked into one of the fakest smiles that I've ever seen in my life.
'That's marvelous!' she chirped, 'Oh dear, I'm so happy for you! Can I see your ring?'
CeeCee faltered. 'Oh – well, it - '
'It was a spur-of-the-moment thing,' Adam said quickly, his grin too fading slightly.
Dani's eyes went wide. 'No ring? Why Adam, I thought you had class, you silly boy.'
Any one would think that was just kidding, right?
It wasn't. Danielle Moore did not kid.
She tormented.
Adam's ears went a little pink. 'Well, I – '
'I mean, surely you have a ring, and you just haven't given it to her yet,' she said in her taunting confidence, 'I mean, on my first proposal, dear George offered me the biggest diamond. A pink diamond. How could I say no?' She gave Adam a hearty wink. 'Diamonds are a girl's best friend, after all.'
And dog's are a man's best friend. But I doubt that CeeCee wanted to buy Adam a dog.
CeeCee wasn't smiling anymore.
'I – I don't have a ring yet,' Adam shrugged, 'Just – I – '
'You thought you'd be enough?' Dani simpered cruelly. 'Well, that's quite understandable to think. I guess I forgot what it was like to not . . . expect as much, I guess.'
Adam's smile totally slid off, too. He was mighty embarrassed.
CeeCee was mortified.
And I was damned pissed off.
'Dani?' I gave her the sweetest little smile, fluttering my eyelashes abundantly, 'Why don't you go throw up your dinner?'
Dani stopped smiling too. Her eyes went so cold, that I believe they surpassed even the chill that PAUL could inspire. She gave me the hardest glare, and –
. . . Whoa.
Okay, I – I might be wrong on this one.
I mean, beneath all of the plastic on her face, it's hard to tell.
. . . But I think I touched a nerve there.
She tossed her violently red hair, and left.
Satisfied with myself, I smiled back at Adam and said, 'Don't listen to her. Your relationship is deep enough not to need a stupid diamond. No bling could ever outshine you two.'
'That,' Adam said as he pitched his pillow at me, 'is the corniest thing I've ever heard, Simon.'
'I've heard worse from you, McTavish,' I grinned as I hit him back with the offending pillow.
And then it turned into an all out pillow fight. CeeCee took Adam's side and started assaulting me with her pillow. Jack joined my team, and with brute Slater strength, managed to tackle Adam and stuff a pillow in his face.
When we finally called it a truce, everyone giggling on the bed, we suddenly realized how late it was and just how tired we were. Lazily, I left the room with a yawn and a goodnight and headed for the shower.
I took a long, warm shower. I felt better than I had in a long time. Despite the whole near-death thing, I knew everything was okay for now. That's the only thing I could really secure: safety in the present. I couldn't say much about the future, however.
It felt good knowing that there was something to live for after nearly getting buried. Having good friends who loved me as much as I loved them, I mean. Granted, it was something small in the grand disaster of my life, but it was still something.
I stepped out of the shower and suddenly felt like all of my blood rushed to my head. I slipped on my PJs and robe and steadied myself on the wall for a moment. I guess the whole not touching dinner thing was finally getting to me.
I took a breath and the black spots flooding my vision disappeared slowly. I needed to eat. Or at least get to bed. And since I could barely stand let alone make the long journey downstairs, I chose to head to bed.
I walked down the dark hallway, grabbing at the wall for support as I made my way. I heard a light twinkle behind me and I turned my head sharply, an action I soon regretted when I found my vision swimming with floating purple and black spots again. My legs nearly gave out, but I found myself caught in the arms of none other than Jesse.
I was caught a little off guard. I thought it was one of the Misfortunates, back for another round of whatever they called their little game, a game that I was NOT up to playing. I let out a small gasp and clutched my chest as I rested against Jesse.
'God, don't do that,' I said, breathing hard.
'I didn't mean to startle you, Susannah,' said Jesse in a highly apologetic tone.
Jesse helped me to stand up again. Which, you know, was embarrassing as well as necessary. My head felt all fuzzy and dizzy and spazzy and lots of other words with double z's in them. I hardly even noticed that he'd helped me to my feet. I felt like I was floating upside down, anyway. Blood kept rushing to my head. I could hear it so clearly, thumping in my ears with painful resonance.
I felt like a floating face or something. All of my other body parts were kind of numb but tingly at the same time.
'What is wrong with you, Susannah?' he asked in concern.
Oh, nothing. Schizophrenia's just playing up a little.
'Tired,' I muttered.
Which, you know, was perfectly true. I mean, I WAS tired. I doubted that mentioning the fact that I hadn't eaten would engender a very perky response from him. He'd probably think I was doing a Dani, or something.
By, erm, doing a Dani, that is to say . . . I mean, not DOING a - that's just wrong and . . . I'm perfectly sure that I'm heterosexual and -
PAUL SLATER IS THE ONLY ONE HAVING SEX WITH DANIELE MOORE, OKAY?
YEAH. I'm glad that's cleared up.
Okay…I SO did NOT need that visual.
. . . Eww.
All I wanted was to fall into bed, and sleep. I really felt worn out. Like that shifter-power thingie today had taken more out of me than a 20 mile sprint. Jesse, the ever-helpful gentleman, (pfft!) slid one arm beneath my knees, and scooped me up like it was nothing.
Oh sure. Show off your strength to those who suddenly find it impossible to walk. "Look at me, Susannah, I can walk AND carry you at the same time. BEAT THAT."
Actually, Jesse wasn't there to rub it in. He was pretty humble about the whole thing.
'You should not walk,' he murmured, when I went to defend that little thing called PERSONAL SPACE.
Yeah. I guess I had to agree with him. It wasn't just a case of "should not." I think I was pretty close to "could not."
I'm just that sucky.
I dunno why this fatigue had hit me so suddenly, and so horribly. But it had. Like a delayed reaction, or something. I guess that up till now, I'd been running on left-over adrenaline instead of food. Now it had all worn out, and I was left, tired as hell.
So Jesse de Silva carried me up the flights of stairs in the violently haunted ex-boarding school of Fortunaschwein. I felt each movement of him stepping up the, erm, steps, and I could feel his breath in my hair. God, I could have fallen asleep right there . . .
But I didn't. I wasn't tired, so much as exhausted, I think. And besides, it would be weird, don't you think?
When he finally reached my room, he drew back the covers of my bed, ghost style, (aka, with his mind,) and then settled me down gently.
Stupid ghosts and their telekinesis…why doesn't the Big Cheese hand out these powers to people that could really use them?
Like me for instance. I promise to use it for more than fetching a Diet Coke from the fridge. That would just be one of the perks.
. . . Then again, according to Paul, I COULD do that.
If his whatever-ghosts-can-do-shifters-can-do-three-times-more-powerful theory checked out.
Ha. I could float THREE Diet Cokes my way.
I WOULD BE ALL POWERFUL.
Yeah. Just as soon as I stopped blowing things up or making things catch fire, I'd be sweet.
So, that could take a while.
Pfft.
'Erm, thanks,' I said, releasing the World's Biggest Sigh. He sat down beside me, and his hand came to my shoulder. Due to the late hour (around nine or something,) the moon was streaming in through the window like whispers. Pale moonlight highlighted Jesse's hair, so the gentle curls shone blue. The realms of his face truly looked dead. But, you know, alive in some incomprehensible way. Two tiny pinpricks of light dotted his pupils as he stared down at me.
'What?' I asked expectantly, when he wasn't exactly leaving.
He blinked softly. 'Nothing.'
I narrowed my eyes in curiosity. 'No, what. Really.'
He looked like he was about to say something, when he lost his nerve, and changed it quickly to something else. 'What happened earlier with Jack?'
'Oh,' I said with a grim look. Awkwardly, I recalled the things that Jack had said. About Paul, and his power, and his . . . outlook on life, I guess. I mean, now that I'd heard it, Jack had summarized Paul to a tee. 'That was nothing, really. Jack was just pissed off that Paul yelled at him at dinner. He's okay now.'
'I see,' Jesse said thoughtfully. You know, Jesse has really nice eyelashes. He does. They're not like Paul's. Paul's quite long for a guy – they make him look even yummier, but yeah.
Nah. Jesse's were short. But they looked good on him.
So yes. He had nice eyelashes. They just curled from his above his eyes. 'He's not fond of Paul, is he?'
'Who is?' I asked.
Jesse laughed softly.
But really . . . when you thought about it . . . who really was?
I mean, Paul's parents obviously didn't care about him all that much. Jack only wanted to impress him to try and win favor with him so he wouldn't get burnt to a crisp. CeeCee was pissed off at him for how rude he was to me the other night. Adam didn't really care about him; he'd gone out with Kelly Prescott, and that was repulsive enough.
And Jesse and I hated him in every way possible after what he did to us.
So that pretty much only left Dani, huh? Who apparently, was only dating him because the little joy she got out of life was only parallel to the little joy Paul got out of his.
Sucks for him. Not that I feel sorry for him or anything. I don't think you could ever accuse me of feeling sorry for Paul Slater.
I mean, I really, REALLY hate him. I do. I'll never forgive him for what he did, and how he acted when we were both kids. What he did ruined everything.
He was what Jack said. A life-ruiner.
And I was the ruin-ee.
It's strange, though. I mean, Paul couldn't even be classed as a sadist, could he? He ruined peoples' lives, and still, he wasn't happy.
That's a pretty frightening thought, though. To think that someone with that much power, and money, and acknowledgement . . . could still not be happy.
Going back to the annoyingly over-used proverb of "money doesn't buy happiness."
Yeah. But it sure helps.
'Jack will be okay, won't he?' I said to Jesse anxiously, 'I mean, you know, in general. He's not the happiest kid in the playground. He's had a pretty crappy childhood. And I don't think he gets much support from anyone except . . . well, you and Father Dom.'
What's wrong with them, you might ask? Well, Jesse's dead and a little over-due with his meeting with the Maker. As for Fr. Dom? Yeah, that little meeting might come sooner than we all thought.
Meaning he's going to die.
Wow, Suze. THAT'S sure positive thinking. But it's probably the truth, considering that nothing ever happens as it should on this planet.
Happily ever after only happened in fairy tales and bed-time stories. And, let me tell you, my life was in no way like Cinderella or Snow White.
More like . . . Rumplestiltskin.
Meaning . . . I do everything that I'm supposed to – I do the hard work for everyone else, make the straw into gold, DO the impossible, trying desperately to get SOMETHING in return for doing my good turns, but I still get screwed in the end. By all the beautiful, rich powerful people in the world.
Stupid miller's daughter. Stupid prince that she married who made her make straw into gold. I mean, what an ASSHOLE. "I'll marry you if you can perform a miracle."
WELL, I COULD TALK TO THE DEAD. SO, WHERE ARE MY PROPOSALS?
I'm Rumplestiltskin to a tee.
And I'm teased for being short.
And it'll probably be my own fault that I die. I'll probably stamp my foot through the ground and down too, just like the little guy in the story. Poor little dude. You really have to feel for him. What the hell did HE do wrong?
So yeah. I'm Rumplestiltskin. Totally.
Jesse gave me a warm smile, and pulled the covers up ever so slightly over me. 'He will be fine,' he assured me. 'And you are beautiful, Susannah, for caring about him like you do.'
Huh?
. . . Hey. I guess I do. Care about Jack, I mean.
What can I say? Jack . . . he just grows on you. A lot. And soon, you just want to take him home hug him and watch him grow up. The RIGHT way. Not like his parents have, and not like Paul tries to. You just want to spoil him rotten, and make everything better for him, since it's obviously been shitty for him thus far.
I blinked down, and smiled with embarrassment. 'I'm just worried about him,' I said honestly. 'I worry about anyone who has ever been within five feet of Paul Slater.'
'Hmm,' went Jesse.
That only resulted in one of the more comfortable awkward silences that I've had. Now that I was horizontal, my head wasn't pounding so terribly. I was still a bit hungry, but I didn't want to ruin the coziness I felt being all tucked in the bed.
'Adam just proposed to CeeCee,' I said.
Jesse nodded. 'So I heard. It's wonderful.' His hand came to mine, and his fingers curled around my own. I closed my eyes, and for a moment I imagined what it'd be like. To be married, I mean. You know, living with someone and doing and sharing everything together. Walking, showering, cooking, even something as deep and as intimate as sex.
I never thought of marriage before as something so sacred until Adam and CeeCee got engaged. I always thought it was just the natural next step: dating, moving in, engagement, marriage. It was almost like a mathematical formula in my mind. People fall in love and get married. That's all folks.
Only now it's something more…something pure. Like a work of art always in progress.
Sigh…
'Do you think I'll ever get married?' I asked randomly.
Whoa, Suze. Nice going, there. Way to fantasize out loud. As if Jesse doesn't already think you're a freak, with all the falling over and stuff.
I could feel Jesse's warmth on my hip, as that was what he was sitting beside. The funny thing was . . . he wasn't warm. I mean, he wasn't REALLY.
He was dead. He hadn't put off any warmth in WAY over a century. Astral projections aren't supposed to have that healthy, 98.6 degree body temperature like most people have.
Jesse answered slowly, 'I think that you will, Susannah.'
I felt like asking, "To who?" but that would have been dumb and probably rude. I mean, there was that guy Madame Zara mentioned. You know, my 'one true and proven' love or whatever.
Where was this guy anyway? Did he get off on the wrong exit? Take a wrong turn?
Oh my God. What if my one true and proven love turned gay? Got so frustrated with women and just gave up on finding Ms. Right and concentrated on finding Mr. Right. What would I do?
I sighed and opened my eyes again. 'Sometimes I don't know,' I whispered. 'I mean, first of all, I have to find a guy that won't think of me as a complete freak because of the shifter thing.'
And secondly, I have to find a guy who won't use me for kick-boxing practice.
Jesse murmured something under his breath.
'Huh?' I asked.
'Nothing.'
It didn't sound like 'nothing' to me. In fact, I'm pretty sure whatever he said was in English, so he couldn't use the 'it doesn't have an English translation' thing either.
'No, what did you say?'
'Nothing.'
'You did so. What –'
But when Jesse's hand found its way to my face, feeling coarse on my cheek, I pretty much shut up.
No, scratch that. I couldn't remember how to speak. I brought my eyes up to his, and all I could do was stare at them.
What was happening? I felt like I had started watching a TV show I used to like a long time ago after I had stopped watching it for a while. Now that I was finally watching it, I had no idea what was going on.
I had a feeling that no amount of re-runs could ever catch me up on this one, though.
There was something in Jesse's eyes then that made my skin feel like it was suffocating my veins and stealing all of the oxygen in my bloodstream. That thing in his eyes was something I wasn't ready to see. There was something there, beyond the unreadable mystery of his irises . . . I could see something stirring . . .
And when his lips gently came to mine, my eyes closed, and my brain started whirling, and my fingers started tingling. He leant down so he was on top of me, and his hand cradled my face tenderly. His skin on mine made me feel anaesthetized.
. . . After five long years, Jesse de Silva was kissing me.
Oh, maaaaaaan.
I know that you're not supposed to think so much during a kiss. It totally ruins, it right? And believe me, you DON'T want to ruin one of Jesse's kisses. It was like a piece of passion's deepest purity; an artist's delight. It made your heart race and your head spin and your breath quicken and your world dissolve into nothing . . .
Only . . . well . . . that was just it.
That USED to happen.
But it didn't then.
Not to say that Jesse wasn't kissing me right. Oh, boy, he was. I hadn't been kissed like that for so long. Not with that love. No way.
I kissed him back. I did. I mean . . . it would be insulting to him NOT to.
But as my hand held his shoulder, and the fingers of the other curled around his neck, and both of his were caressing my face . . . I stopped kissing him.
I stopped doing pretty much everything. I was numb. I COULDN'T do anything.
After a moment, Jesse realized that he was inducing no more response, and he pulled his lips away from mine, looking down at me in confusion . . . passion . . .
And all I could do was stare at him in what probably looked like a yeah . . . so? manner.
He was breathing hard and unnecessarily. I mean, I was too. But I didn't want to be. His eyes were pretty wide. I could see the entire circles of his chocolate irises. His non-existent body heat was overwhelming me. He was still on top of me. So close to me . . . he looked like he was going through hell and back, to have not been receiving any reciprocation from me.
'Susannah . . . ?' he said breathily, 'I - oh . . . Nombres de Dios, I -
I closed my eyes, hard. 'I'm sorry,' I whispered ever-so-quietly at him.
'Am I . . . hurting you in any way?' he asked anxiously.
I didn't reply. Just stayed behind the sanctuary of my closed eyelids. I didn't want to see the hurt in Jesse's face.
'Susannah - ' he prompted a little more urgently this time, but I opened the emerald greens, and gave him the saddest look I've ever employed. I knew this, because it triggered one of HIS sadder looks.
' . . . Oh,' he said. 'Oh.'
I didn't even have to explain myself to him. He knew exactly how I felt just by looking at me. And just like that, he hopped quickly off of me, looking away ashamedly.
'Jesse, I'm so sorry,' I apologized, feeling as though my heart was breaking.
Because, you know, I KNEW what it felt like. Heart break, I mean. He'd broken mine. And now . . . I was pretty sure he was undergoing some pain in his.
Even if he was dead, and didn't technically HAVE a heart anymore.
Jesse stood beside my bed, looking ashamed and crushed. No, really. Like I had just crushed the little hope that he'd ever had.
Because that's exactly what I'd just done.
'No,' he shook his head. 'No, I understand perf - ' he broke off suddenly.
I couldn't do this. I really, really, really couldn't –
My professor told us that the cavemen had two responses in times of great stress. These got passed along generation by generation, even to the more evolved humans. I didn't think cavemen had stress, but I guess when they got cornered by saber-toothed tigers or something, they'd feel a little pressured.
Anyway, the two responses were fight or flight. Which do you think I chose?
I slid off the edge of the bed, and instantaneously, the rush of dizziness set in once again. I don't know where I was going to go, or what I was going to do. My body went into complete auto-pilot, while my mind and heart were working in strenuous over-drive.
'I have to go,' I mumbled hastily, looking nervously for the door –
'Susannah,' Jesse's voice stopped me. I turned back around, seeing him silhouetted against the small window. The moonlight shone through him. But I couldn't see his face.
'Please,' he said . . . 'Don't leave. Not again.'
What was THAT supposed to mean? That it was MY fault that I'd had to go to college? Was he BLAMING me for needing an education now? I mean, I certainly wasn't like one of those old-fashioned chicks from his time. If you wanted to get somewhere in the twenty-first century, you needed college. And I WANTED him to come with me. HE'D REFUSED. So what the HELL DID HE MEAN BY THAT?
'How dare you,' I spat at him, going from emotions of despair to ones of white-hot anger. 'Are you blaming all of this on ME, Jesse? The fact that I'm like this now? It's my fault, is it?'
'You don't understand, Susannah. You had a life. I did not. And there was no reason for me to take yours.'
'Of course there was! I LOVED you! Wasn't that reason enough?' He shook his head, taking slow steps towards me. No, no, no . . .
'I died a long time ago. If I had have come with you, you would have suffered the same fate. Not a physical death . . . but something worse than that. You had your own life.'
'What I do can not be qualified as LIVING!' I stressed to him. Didn't he KNOW that by now? 'And do you think I CARED about that?' I snapped.
He stood over me again. 'Oh, Susannah . . . you were only eighteen.'
'I was in love.'
'I know that. I do. I was also . . . ' he trailed off and swallowed.
'And I still am, Susannah.'
. . . Oh God, oh God, oh GOD.
I felt like I couldn't breathe properly. Oxygen was too painful. THIS was too painful.
And so was my reply.
'You are,' I nodded. 'But I'm not.'
Not anymore. I just found that out after five long years, living what you could almost call a half-life, comparable to the one Jesse lived, only mine was more emotional than physical.
Well, I'd done it.
I'd killed a dead man.
One who loved me.
I'd always known that when Jesse had sent me away, he hadn't stopped loving me. I'd known. I'd just tried to hard to forget that bit. I wanted to hate him. I wanted to hate everything about him, and not acknowledge his love for me, one that was, and always would be, constant.
But now that he'd verbally reminded me, I had remembered all over again that the reason he hadn't come with me, was because he'd loved me so much . . .
And he'd said it now.
When I was still in pain from his decision to let me leave, I had wanted to hate him.
It made me think.
What really IS the opposite of love?
I mean, everyone's immediately like, "Oh yeah. Hate."
But is it?
I mean, love is a very strong emotion, that can be equally paralleled by the evil emotion of hate.
But love is also caring about someone.
What if you just . . . didn't care?
Indifference?
I was not in love with Jesse anymore.
Now . . . I finally knew . . . I was indifferent, now.
I mean, I cared about him. I did.
But I didn't love him.
I couldn't see his eyes in the moonlight. His back was towards the window, as he stared out at me. But the coldness that I felt indicated that the emotion I'd inspired in him was one of the deepest despondency, and the most distant despair.
And God, it killed me. I could see, hear and feel the heart of a ghost, breaking.
And his silence killed me more.
'Susannah – ' he began, but stopped himself, as if he'd regret his words.
I took a hurried step back, demanding no intimacy. 'Please, Jesse, just – just don't.'
Again, he stood there; a statue of ice and death and pain.
I felt like the dark tyrant of his heart. I was causing devastation to his very soul. His agony was my doing.
It is SO not cool to break someone.
It hurts you as much as it hurts them.
. . . But never more so.
'Ah,' he said finally, in a voice that sounded rusted and strained. 'I guess it is only to be expected of you, after my hasty actions of the past. I was – ' but he couldn't go on, again. Like his voice had conked out and had died.
I just stared back at him in the deepest sadness.
After five years . . . I was concluding it.
A doomed love. It just wasn't meant to be.
I was only sixteen when I fell for him.
Now I was twenty three. And finally, I'd come to terms with reality. Jesse was a great guy. He was. He was kind, compassionate, zealous, affectionate . . . all the things someone could ever want in a man.
Except that he wasn't really in this world. Not really. Not in the way that he needed to be.
I was the mediator. He was the ghost. We'd fallen into the trap of love. It looked like only I'd managed to escape, though hardly unscathed.
But Jesse, the preservation of a great, and passionate man, was still imprisoned in impossibility. And that love was taking its devastating toll.
Ha. God, another Maroon 5 song . . .
This love has taken its toll on me.
She said goodbye, too many times before.
And her heart is breaking in front of me,
But I have no choice.
Coz I won't say goodbye anymore.
But it's the other way around now. I was breaking his heart.
I was the one farewelling our over-due love.
I was ending it.
I had to.
We both needed it.
Otherwise we'd never move on from it.
. . . And we'd never fully heal.
'So where do we stand now?' he asked in the more un-Jesse-like voice I'd heard. It was half there.
For the first time, he truly sounded dead.
I sighed, and blinked down. 'We tried, Jesse,' I said very softly. 'We really did. We put up a hell of a fight. But I guess it just wasn't meant to happen.' He ran a shaking hand through his hair, and turned away from me swiftly. 'No,' he agreed, defeated at last. 'I guess you are right.' He stared out my window, something that only my Jesse had, and would ever do.
He wasn't mine, though.
He never had been. I could pay for as many headstones as I wanted . . . I could exorcise myself as many times as I pleased for him.
But it would do no good.
The love wasn't there anymore. It had died of the pain.
'You know, Susannah,' Jesse said in a deep, honest voice, 'I never, ever stopped loving you . . . '
Don't cry . . . Simon, don't you DARE cry . . .
I inhaled a harsh breath, and bit my lip. My jaw was unsteady, and my eyelids felt heavy with tears that suddenly wanted to spill. 'I know,' I said in a half-sob. 'Jesse, I'm so sorry . . . '
'Don't be,' he turned back to me, and smiled in a determined, almost angry way. As if he could not accept the thought of an apology from me. 'You have nothing to apologize for, Susannah. You are at fault in no way. No one is. It just – as you said, wasn't meant to be like this. And no man can change his stars. It's not a happy thought, to think that one's fate is pre-written. It seems like one has no control over their own lives; that everything is predetermined. I do not know . . . ' he trailed off, looking down. 'I don't know anything, anymore . . . '
The tears were spilt.
But the pain was eased.
Oh God was it eased.
Jesse's love was no longer a burden. No longer did I feel guilty about it. In a sick way, I was finally free from the most encumbering piece of my painful past.
He wrapped his arms around me, and held me close. It was an embrace of love. It was one that did not make my heart beat fast, anymore. I hugged him back tightly, with all of my affection and gratitude.
Not love.
But my ability to love was finally on the mend. No longer would it be fractured, or malfunctioning. My heart was my own, now. Jesse and I had finally returned the pieces that we'd stolen from each other.
God . . . this guy deserved so much more than me. It was so horrible that he hoped for at least something, but had gotten nothing.
And now I'd taken away his hope.
I felt like a murderer.
More silence passed. But it was getting easier. It didn't hurt as much.
Jesse eventually broke away, and gave me a slow nod. 'Slater informed me that CeeCee and Adam wanted me to watch over them,' he said. 'I . . . I should go.'
I murmured in agreement. 'Yeah.'
He maintained eye contact. 'I shall come back. Later.'
In other words, when you're asleep.
Which I think was better for the both of us.
'Yeah,' I said again. 'That'd be good.'
He lowered his gaze, and dematerialized.
I just stood there.
I'd done it.
. . . Finally . . . the endless cycle was over.
With a nearly limp body, I crawled back into bed and curled up on my side, waiting patiently for the covers to warm me up. I knew that I wouldn't be fully warm. My soul had been chilled to no end.
But it would warm up in due course. It wouldn't remain in prisons of ice.
I closed my heavy eyelids, expecting to remain awake for hours in contemplation of what I'd just done, and the impact it would have on my life.
However, I was asleep in seconds.
I was just that tired.
8 -
The heavy perfume of the darkly draped room shocked my senses. I sat opposite her, staring at the deck that was beside her hand. I looked nervously down at my thirteen year old ones. God. How embarrassing.
'I don't really know how tarot works,' I said nervously.
The eccentric woman before me nodded demurely. 'You need not know,' she smiled in an enigmatic fashion. Silk adorned her head, and her face was strongly made-up with dramatic lipstick, eyeliner, what not. 'I only want to show you three cards.'
I shrugged. Gina was waiting for me outside. We still had to go on the roller coaster. It was the only good ride at this stupid carnival.
And she intended to take my guy-shopping, right after that.
The woman's fingers carefully shuffled her card pile. Then, she plucked three, one by one, and lay them before me, face down.
She turned the first one over.
'The Hermit,' she smiled. 'You speak to the dead, my child.'
I forgot my shock.
Her second card was upturned. A skeleton stared gauntly back at me.
Her hand came over the third, lying mysteriously beneath her long, fake red nailed fingers.
When she carefully lifted it to her face, she gasped.
'The Lovers,' she said in a hissed voice that confused me. The aroma of the small room was making my head spin.
. . . Lovers?
'Your love,' she said, 'You love has taken a different path.'
Although, it mustn't have been that important.
Because she promptly tore the card in two.
And then she slid the first piece behind the other, and tore them again.
The image of the entangled man and woman had been desecrated.
Ended.
I stared.
What strange behaviour.
Furthermore . . . the two pieces of the card burst into flame.
The fire got bigger and bigger. It started consuming the heavy drapery. The hot, smoking flames reached out for me, desiring only to claim me in their hellish wrath. The woman dissolved from view in a curl of fire. The perfume smell was suffocating me.
Fire surrounded me.
I felt hot.
I felt small.
I felt ignored.
I felt out of control.
I felt scared of myself.
I felt that I had created the fire.
I felt like I couldn't stop it.
I felt responsible.
I felt angry.
I felt betrayed.
I felt bloodthirsty.
I felt out of character.
I wanted vengeance.
I wanted conclusion.
I wanted it to stop . . .
In alarm, I ran . . .
. . . And I was running down that endless hall of the Shadowland. The doors didn't stop. They – they went on forever. I could run but they'd never stop.
I was drowning from the endless hallway.
The floor was sliding from beneath my feet.
I tripped.
I screamed.
I fell . . .
And I woke up.