Chapter 7: Literary Alchemy
It continued to grin maniacally at me.
My stomach continued to lurch.
Garrett hovered over my shoulders; a death grip on my arms. "Do something!" he hissed.
"What do you mean, do something! This is your little mind-fuck, pal! You do something!" I snarled back.
He gritted his teeth, but remained silent.
The creature raised the carving knife, and took a step forward.
"Aaaahh!" screamed Garrett.
"Aaaahh!" I echoed. "Run away!"
I snatched at his wrist, and we got the hell out of there. In fact, I'd say that me and Gare did the hundred yard dash in about four-three. I didn't even stop to see which way we were going. Escalators and stores passed by in a blur.
I only stopped the moment I began to feel faint. Garrett and I had ended up outside a bookstore. My Bestsellers, it declared.
Panting, I looked at the sign, and began to giggle. Vain, much?
As out of breath as I was, Garrett managed to give me a dirty look. "What's so damned funny?" he grumbled.
Still snickering, I replied. "Nothing." Something occurred to me. "Hey, why are you tired? I thought you were dead."
He smirked. "You know, I don't really know. I still haven't figured out all of the rules. I know that I 'exist' in this world. But, I know I'm dead too." He looked at me.
I just blinked. "Uh, okay."
"So…what was that shit about?"
"What shit?"
"That shit with the freaky no-faced lady, what was that?"
"How the fuck should I know?"
Silence.
"Let's go in the store." I said suddenly.
"What? Why?"
"Why not?"
Another dumbfounded look. He sighed. Shrugging, he replied, "Fuck it. Okie dokie- let's go."
We walked through the door.
"Wow." Said Mr. State-The-Obvious.
"Charming." I muttered wryly.
My first thought was, What the fuck happened here?
My second thought was, Riiight, like you don't already know?
Seemingly keeping with the theme; the place was trashed. There were books strewn all over the floor. Most of the shelves were filled with half-mangled hardcovers.
I surveyed the damage; sadder than I'd let Garrett see. I loved books, and this- this was a fucking sacrilege. What a waste.
At my feet lay a mangled Shakespeare; Twelfth Night. Dammit, that one was my favorite too.
I decided to ignore it, and I walked around.
Garrett was hot on my heels. "Great." He grumbled. "Okay, you saw the mess, let's go away now. Please." He urged.
I gave him a look. "Why? You got a hot date?" I teased.
"No, but if we don't get the hell out of dodge, and some weird shit happens, I will not be held responsible for anything that decides to chew on you because you decided to stick around."
"Wow." I laughed.
Now he was clearly irritated. "What?"
"You ramble when you're tense!" I said; grinning. I turned towards the shelves again.
How to Serve Humans. Hey, that sounded familiar…
The Book of the Order. Hmmm, cultists who do wholesale?
The Most Infamous Serial Killers of the Twentieth Century. I stared at the cover. The striking blond man on the cover caught my eye. I remembered that he had killed a bunch of people and ripped out their hearts. It's always the cute ones.
"Can we please go now?" A voice screeched behind me.
The defense rests.
With a roll of my eyes, I turned back to Garrett. "No."
He looked like he might have started to whine, but he kept quiet. I continued to wander around.
There was a keypad at the back of the room, and a little note taped to the wall beside it.
"What the hell…" I muttered.
"Fuck. What now?" groaned Garrett.
I didn't reply, I simply read the note on the wall aloud:
"Fair is foul, and foul is fair. Put these books in order."
"What the hell are you babbling about now?"
"It's Shakespeare, you numbnuts." I scolded. "God, don't you read?"
"Before I died, I was a florist. What the hell would I need Shakespeare for?"
I snickered. "A florist?" That was unexpected.
He looked pissed, which surprisingly, made him quite hot to me. His eyes were almost black with anger. "What the hell makes you think-"
The door opened behind us.
Expecting the freak with half a face, I ducked behind the counter.
Garrett dove over the same counter; slamming into me.
"Ow!" I yelped. "You mother-"
He clamped a hand over my mouth. "Shhh!" he hissed.
It took me a minute, but I realized his hand was warm. Should dead people be warm?
"Hello?" Called a female voice. "Is anyone here?"
A pause for a moment, then: "God, who would do such a thing?"
Whoever she was, she seemed to have taken the odd carnage about as well as we had. I stood up.
Garrett pulled at me, but I smacked his hand away.
The woman peering around the room wasn't a woman at all. She looked younger than me!
Garrett sighed for the billionth time, and stood up. He took a look at the girl, and gasped.
I looked at him. "What? You two know each other?" I asked.
"It's her. Her. The girl I've been telling you about!"
"The chick with the demonic fetus?"
"Yep."
"No shit?"
"No shit."
Wow. I walked up to her. "Hey! Nice to meet ya!" Dare I say, I oozed sweetness.
She passed right through me.
"Dammit."
Garrett grinned at me.
"You like when I make a schmuck outta myself- don't cha?" I glared at him.
He nodded happily. "Yep."
I punched him on the arm.
The girl walked through us, and up to the keypad. She read aloud the note.
I snorted. "Yeah, good luck with that."
A thoughtful expression on her face, she turned around, and walked over to a pile of Shakespeare books scattered in front of one shelf.
She picked the books up, and one by one, she replaced them on the shelf. Grinning, she mused; "Well, whaddaya know?" She took a small notepad out of one pocket, a pen out of another, and copied down whatever she was looking at.
Garrett and I watched her silently.
She strolled back over to the keypad; passing through us. She looked at whatever had been written down, and started to punch in numbers.
After a few unsuccessful tries- I suddenly heard a distinct beep that indicated that she was free to go. Laughing in triumph, she passed through the door.
With the door still open, I tried to follow her, but only succeeded in slamming my face against some unseen force.
"Fuck!" I yelped.
Snickering, Garrett said, "You know, that's still funny!"
Ignoring him, I muttered, "How'd she get that fucking door open anyway?"
Garrett strolled over to where the girl had replaced those books. "You said that quote was Shakespeare, right?"
"Yeah."
Staring at the shelf, Garrett replied, "Well, these books are Shakespeare, and someone handwrote numbers on the spines."
"Huh? I'll be damned. Clever girl."
I sat on the counter. Garrett quickly joined me.
"Okay, Mr. Expert Guy- what now?"
"We chill." Hand to God, the guy had a serious expression on his face.
"There's a woman out there with half a face, a teenage girl getting herself into God-only-knows what kinda trouble- and you want us to chill!" I shrilled.
"Well, it's not like we can do anything. We're on a different plane that they are. We can't really do shit except sit back and 'enjoy' the show."
"Goddammit!" I yelled in frustration.
"Indeed." Concurred Garrett.
Another pause.
"Hey Luce?"
"Hmm?"
He gently touched my arms. "How'd you get these scars?"
Panicked, I looked down- and cursed softly. The shoulders of my hoodie had slipped off, revealing the sleeveless pajama top I had on underneath.
"Nevermind that." I muttered absently; zipping it back into place.
"They look almost like knife wounds-" he started to say softly.
"Leave it the fuck alone!" I snapped. I started to shake.
Garrett fell quiet; staring at me as though he was seeing me for the first time. Remaining silent; he put an arm around me. I leaned into him. And, for a few minutes, we just sat there like that.
"That thing… you recognized it, didn't you?
I nodded into his shoulder. "Yeah. In fact, it was-"
"Ms. Gomez?" called a young voice.
Wait a minute…
"Ms. Gomez… Lucy?" urged the voice uncertainly.
I opened my eyes, and winced. The light was so damned bright.
Leah sat a couple feet away from me; a worried expression on her face.
"Are you okay?" she asked softly.
I felt a dull throb begin right behind my eyes. "Aside from what I'm sure is gonna grow into the hangover from hell, I'm peachy." I rasped; groggy.
"It's eight o'clock. I thought you might want to get up before we all leave for the day." Apparently intuiting my problem; she offered me some aspirin, and a glass of apple juice.
I gave her a look, but I took what she offered.
She blushed faintly. "Well, Anna never wants to eat when she's hung over." My stomach lurched at the thought of food. "And I didn't think you'd appreciate orange juice right now." She still stared at me.
"What?"
"You wept in your sleep."
I snickered. "No, I didn't."
She traced a finger down my face, and when she pulled away, it was wet.
"I'll be damned." I muttered.
"Are you? Alright, I mean?" she prodded.
"Yeah, I'm cool."
A voice behind me responded demurely, "Good, 'cause I'd hate for someone to drop dead on me in my own house."
I rolled my head back to find Delia staring at me; smiling.
"Good morning." She chirped.
Suddenly, a brown blur whizzed by her; stopping only long enough to kiss her on the cheek. "Bye mom!" screeched Anna.
Leah gave a startled squeak, grabbed her bags, and ran after her sister.
I heard the door close, and within moments, they were gone. I didn't even hear their car.
"Ah, parenthood." Mused Delia. She stared at the door for a minute, then she came over, and sat next to me.
"So, how'd the visit with Garrett go?" she asked bluntly.
It took a minute for what she said to register. "Huh?"
"What did you guys talk about?"
I stared at her with what I'm sure was a blank expression.
"Oh, come on! Sweetie, I hate to burst your bubble, but when you're drunk, you talk in your sleep. Why do you think Leah was so concerned? You said the name 'Garrett' more than a few times."
Well, shit. "And?"
"And, where'd those scars come from?"
"Fuck!" I yelled. I wrapped a quilt around my shoulders.
"I take it that you're not up to sharing?"
"No." I grumped. Even to me, that sounded churlish.
Something occurred to me. "Why the hell am I the one being tapped, anyways?"
She looked thoughtfully at me. "Maybe it's because of those scars."
For the millionth time, "Huh?"
"Have you ever been involved in anything… bad?" she asked me gently.
I squirmed, but decided to be open about it. "Yeah."
"Violent."
"Yeah…my aunt." I whispered.
"What about her?"
"My parents died when I was seven, and I moved in with my aunt. She... abused me… a lot."
Delia started to stroke my hair- the way you might comfort a child. "What happened?"
Almost soundlessly, I gasped. "I killed her."
:AUTHOR'S NOTES: As usual, I probably could've done better. This chapter felt a little half-assed. But I'm kinda proud of it too. R&R PEOPLE, I CRAVE REVIEWS!
:SPECIAL THANKS: To Literary Alchemist. I figured since he's helped me so much with this lately, he earned the right to have a chapter named after him; at the very least!