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Souls of the Night – Vol 3
34.
I woke up in a bed that was familiar and yet strange to me. In a small bedroom that was familiar and yet strange to me. Why had I slept? Gargoyles only slept when they were unwell or totally exhausted. But I felt fine. I lolled groggily in the sheets and slipped off the mattress, crawled through the small hallway, through the living room, which I also recognized as mine but that wasn't mine. Because I didn't belong here. I slipped out of the door and crawled up the gutter onto the roof. There I arched my back and stretched out my wings, letting the joints crack. The still cool night air tugged at my hair and wings and oh how sweet the breeze smelled. Like early bloomers and earth because I was too close to the ground and a little salty sea air from the south.
I looked around, none of my kin to be seen, none to be sniffed out. Just the lights of street lamps and cars passing by in the streets. Nothing weighed so heavily on my mind that I thought about it more intensely. I closed my eyes and saw in my mind's eye how I glided over those very streets - the Manhattan skyline approaching. This incredible, all-consuming longing. For home. And I didn't mean a place. I longed for the wind beneath my wings, for the caress of the air. My body tingled from the tip of my tail to my horns. Following the temptation, I stood upright - despite the slope of the roof, no problem if my claws could press into the ground. I spread my wings. Of how gorgeous and playful the air pulled on them. They felt as if they had not been used for far too long. What was I doing here again? So few yards above the ground. Why wasn't I at the castle? I needed to be back there, enjoying the fierce air currents around my ancestral home, rejoicing and warbling with my sweet mate and my clan in our native element. Now the muscles in my calves were twitching too. One little jump and the air would catch in the leather of my wings and carry me away. I already felt like I was floating, if only a foot high.
"HEY!" A gruff male voice snapped me out of my dream and I rushed back to my lucid consciousness and the body I had never left. Only to find myself standing on my roof ridge, swaying, struggling for balance, flailing my arms and only falling backwards due to an abrupt gust of wind that felt like a massive shove against his chest and only thereby escaping a fall including a broken neck. I landed painfully on the roof, threatening to slide down the slope but clinging with my human hands to the photovoltaic system. I gasped frantically for air, the panic of this literally rude awakening almost made me vomit.
"Bloody hell!" growled the same male voice that had woken me up. Or... hadn't I been asleep?
Not shaking with fright and confusion, but nearly vibrating, I craned my neck to see my neighbor, Mr. Fitzpatrick, standing in the back of his own house with his cocker spaniel on a leash, staring up at me with an expression somewhere between indignation and bewilderment. Well, I was bewildered and outraged too. Damn, what was I doing here on the roof?
"Hello Mr. Fitzpatrick," I croaked unhappily and tried - despite the pain and tension I was still feeling from fighting with the instructors - to pull myself to my knees on the smooth photovoltaic surfaces and then crawl along them to the gutter, which was probably my best chance of getting down without breaking any bones.
"What kind of crazy Taliban shit is this supposed to be?" asked the old man.
"Just getting some fresh air," I gasped.
His look at the back of my head almost hurt. Which was okay, because I'd been looking for a little pain to ground myself lately. I hadn't thought about it when I'd faced Floyd and Natascha, but the after-effects of our clash had the good result of making me less likely to daydream myself away because of a dull malaise. But this- this- had this been sleepwalking? Had I almost thrown myself off my roof while sleepwalking because I thought I could glide again? That was a whole new terror. The wind stroked my cheek - left and right - as if to comfort me. I still found it difficult to know what I was imagining. Whether these little " gestures came from the wind entity or whether it was simply a coincidence. Nevertheless, I whispered a "thank you" - on the one hand for the attempt to comfort me and on the other for the push against my chest. The entity (or my imagination of the entity) never made itself known when I wanted it to (which also made it impossible for me to prove if there was still something inside me or if I was merely a nutcase) but it did when I really needed it.
When I finally made it to my back patio and only saw Fitzpatrick's thinning hair, I wished him a good night.
"Fucking weirdo," he grumbled. And I really couldn't argue with that.
.
.
"How did that make you feel? This ... clash? This display of your not only recovered but obviously completely renewed human body?"
"Is it even a human body?" asks Nathaniel and Davis looks at him, the end of her pen held thoughtfully to her lips.
"You don't feel human?" the psychiatrist and psychologist inquires.
Nathaniel leans back wearily in the armchair, which he usually prefers to the chaise longue, perhaps because it is too much of a therapist's cliché. He takes a deep breath and rubs a brow arch that is no longer there.
"Less and less," he admitted.
Davis nodded and wrote something on the top sheet of the pad hanging on her clipboard. They had already talked about the echoes. This whole thing was tricky. That was her professional opinion as a therapist and secret-eating dream and nightmare demon. She would have liked to whisper some nice emotions and dreams to Nathaniel - but even though his body was now human again, she sensed this hint of the supernatural, which made this kind of interference seem somehow dangerous to her. So she was left with only the resources of the human doctor.
"Do you feel uncomfortable when you don't feel human?"
"Uncomfortable? I don't know. Maybe? No, not really at all. When I feel like this, it feels right. More right than my human body. And then when I realize that I am human it feels scary that I feel body parts or sensations that I shouldn't feel as a human. Like-" he looked at his hands "-like I'm defective. Or something in my head is damaged. I feel like a stranger in my own body and I don't know how to turn it off."
That was interesting and Davis wrote it down and asked the next question without looking up because she had noticed that Nathaniel Sharif was beginning to squirm under prolonged scrutiny and was losing his train of thought.
"Do you have coping mechanisms for situations like this?"
"I um ... When I have the chance, I meditate with Katana in her dojo. Breathing deeply into my belly and feeling the chi and stuff like that. And Work helps to."
"Chi," Davis repeated slowly. She wasn't sure if it was a good idea for Nathaniel to listen into himself when he was as torn as he was at the moment. Alexander hadn't done him any favors, and yet she knew if the Fey Prince and the Trickster were exposing themselves to something like this, there had to be something bigger going on that even she as a therapist couldn't figure out. She was an ancient being - but something was about to happen. She sensed it. Something inside her that could only be described as primal wanted to escape from it. Something else wanted to stay because she sensed this was not something a human, gargoyle or supernatural being could flee from.
Without really focusing, her gaze had slid to Nathaniel's hands in his lap and she saw the discoloration of hematomas before her client pulled his shirtsleeve over them, caught off guard. It had been three days since the incident at the mandatory event, and Davis knew Nathaniel had suffered a few bruises that wouldn't go away quickly without stone sleep, but he shouldn't have any on his forearm. Unless he inflicted them on himself. She wasn't blunt enough to ask, and judging by the look on Nathaniel's face, he wasn't ready to discuss this self-harm coping mechanism with her.
"You haven't been at work for the last three days, have you?"
"Yes. So no. I wasn't."
"You're worried about what your coworkers think about you right now?"
Nathaniel slung his arms around himself and his knitted poncho above his shirt (he seemed to be developing a soft spot for Ponchos, having worn one at the last meeting, too) wrapped around him like the wings the wool was supposed to mimic.
"I'm just so ashamed."
"About what?"
"Because everyone's talking about me. And if I go there I'll hear them whispering and some of them aren't quiet when they whisper and even if I don't understand what they're saying I imagine exactly what they would say."
"The question would be - is it worse to isolate yourself in the castle with the gargoyles or alone at home and burden yourself with imaginary scenarios hour after hour and day after day? - Or wouldn't it be easier if you just went there, endured it, and the rumor mill would calm down after two or three days?"
Nathaniel nodded thoughtfully.
"I'm not at all sure I can go back there again."
"Why wouldn't you? Those trainers won't be coming back and now in this company no one will confront you with physical violence unless they're totally tired of life," Davis said dryly but returned Nathaniel's smirk at her joke, which was absolutely true.
"Except for your colleagues in accounting. How do you think your teammates would react if you came back?" She lifted the top sheet and read the names.
"Chad, Alistair, Anthony and Lavonne. They were all present at the scene in the gym."
"I don't know how they would react if I came back. But they write me messages."
"Oh that's right - you have a team chat." Now Davis looked at Nathaniel for longer and, as was to be expected, he caved in immediately without her asking for anything. He pulled out his cell phone, opened the chat, scrolled up and handed her the phone so it probably wasn't too intimate and he really needed to hear her opinion.
Right after the incident:
Chad: Nate, where are you? Your stuff is still here. Are you okay?"
Lavonne: Nathaniel. Are you lying somewhere on the property right now and can't move? Say something, we're worried after those #assholes picked on you like that. Floyd was always sus to me. Everyone is impressed with the way you fought back. Please don't die, what's to become of Tiana and Xavier?"
Alistair: Are you okay? No matter where you are we're coming. Do you need medical help? Please write something. anything. We're worried.
Nathaniel had managed to write back, or he had Lexington write it for him.
Nathaniel: I'm fine. I've gone home. I'm taking a couple days off. Don't worry about me.
Afterward, get well wishes came from all sides and Chad would keep Nathaniel's stuff until he got back or he could bring it to him (so his teammates didn't know he lived practically around the corner). An evening later it continued with the messages only coming during Nathaniel's normal working hours and everyone responding to each other too quickly, which probably indicated that his entire remaining team 34 was sitting together with their cell phones discussing what they sent him before they did.
Alistair: How are you? Chad has a cracked rib. Thanks Nate, for helping him out.
Lavonne: That fucking buzz cut bitch! If you hadn't catched her hands, she could have seriously hurt him.
Chad: You do know that I'm the head of security on the evening shift and can defend myself, right? ... Thanks though, Nate. You must be in more pain than I am. I'm cool-
Alistair: We've filed a complaint with HR and Legal against them. Chad doesn't want to sue them but you could get a lot out of it, they were a lot tougher on you.
Anthony: Take pictures of your bruises or do you have a report from a doctor or hospital? You can sue these idiots to the moon. The legal department at LeXa ltd knows no mercy, they would fight for you ... because this happened under their auspices, so to speak. Three years ago I got a big compensation because I slipped on the freshly mopped floor there and sprained my wrist.
Davis scrolled down to yesterday's messages.
Lavonne: Nathaniel, are you feeling better? The others are sipping tea and pestering us about you.
Chad: You're famous man.
Anthony: Yeah. But we don't say anything. About what anyway, you make yourself scarce. But don't be afraid to come back. They're not bad rumors.
Alistair: Just whether you're the son of a Muslim martial arts guru.
Chad: Or a secret agent.
Anthony: Or Superman.
Lavonne: You were super to me before: Come back Nate. When you come back, you don't have to talk about it. We'll protect you from the gossips. Even the head of accounting asked about you. He's worried too and he's so sorry that you had to go through that.
The last message of the evening:
Lavonne: You're not ghosting us, are you?
And then about tonight.
A photo probably taken in the cafeteria at LeXa ltd. A photo that made Davis laugh, and Nate too, because it showed peas and carrots, mashed potatoes and a sausage on a plate arranged in a sad smiley face. Underneath it was written. Team 34 without Nathaniel.
"God, how sweet." Davis remarked, handing her client back his cell phone. He looked at the picture with a warm smile.
"They like you. They're more than colleagues, they're your friends."
"Yeah ... I think so. Strange to have friends. I don't think I've had any since the end of high school when Jussuf started messing with me. They're like... well - a workplace clan."
That was memorable and was immediately written down by Davis.
"How can you doubt that they would welcome you back there with open arms?"
Nathaniel smiled sadly and rubbed his battered ear as he sometimes did.
"I don't doubt it. I like them too. But..." he shrugged and looked out of the window. Davis couldn't tell if he was admiring the city lights twinkling in the darkness or looking at his reflection in the glass, but he immediately looked away again as if he couldn't bear the sight.
"Do you do it? Ghost your colleagues?" Davis asked.
"Maybe I do. I tend to avoid my problems for as long as possible. Although my team really isn't a problem. I - I am the problem."
"What do you really want Nathaniel? Apart from hiding from your fears and dealing with them."
Her client looked at her with bright blue eyes that seemed to see more even though he was so blind to so many things. Nathaniel had lost weight since he had become human again. Not much. But since he hadn't weighed much to begin with, you noticed it more quickly. Maybe that's why he was wearing more clothes and not just because of his bruises (whether from his battle or self-inflicted). But soon it would be too warm for such ponchos or long sleeves.
"Can you prescribe me antipsychotics?" he then asked bluntly, his face petrified yet fearful of the prospect of rejection.
Davis raised an eyebrow and, from that alone, the man across from her squirmed in his seat.
"I...need them."
"I need something more than that, Nathaniel."
"I'm starting to have trouble knowing what's real. I think pills would help me cling to reality. Risperidone, Seroquel, Latuda, whatever, I'll try anything."
"You've been through at least one suicide attempt with medication."
"That was something else."
"Was it?"
"Yes!" Nathaniel insisted a little more belligerently, which wasn't unusual for people who wanted to take the shortcut via drugs and didn't get their way straight away. "I was in an acute depressive phase. I'm not at risk of that now, I don't have a death wish. I just want to, damn it, I'm losing touch with reality. I have to be able to take something so that ... I can stay in the here and now."
"You have hallucinations and delusions?"
"Yes!" Nathaniel spat out and then clawed a hand into his hair and avoided eye contact. Admitting such things even though you knew you would have a hard time because of your medical history was difficult. But Davis was not a doctor who fed her clients drugs to make things easier for them and for her. The secrets of medicated clients tasted like rotten cheese.
"Would you like to describe the events that make you think you're not in the here and now? Apart from the echoes?"
"They're just the tip of the iceberg," Nate sighed.
"You said you feel less and less human. List sensations and incidents for me - preferably in the order in which they happened to you.
"List them?"
"List them - one, two, three. Just facts. Don't try to explain anything at first."
"Okay." Nate lifted a hand and spread his index finger.
"One: My hands sometimes don't feel like human hands. I feel three fingers and thumbs with claws but I look at them and they are human."
Middle finger and Nathaniel's stoic gaze met his doctor's.
"Two: From the corner of my eye, I see myself in reflective surfaces as a gargoyle, but when I look directly at it, I see myself as a human. Do you even guess how frightening that is?
Three: I feel muscles in my back and rump that used to support my wings and tail but I don't have those body parts anymore. And the physiotherapist last week at LeXa ltd spent three minutes pushing on me before he was completely flabbergasted and excused himself and went on his break. He was completely pale. What if he ... what if he also felt muscle strands that shouldn't be there? Or it was a coincidence - I don't know."
"Four: The obligatory event. I put two much stronger and more practiced people out of action. I kicked the woman yard-wide across the hall! I felt like a gargoyle in battle in those moments. These people were my opponents ... my, my prey. And everything, everything was so easy. It shouldn't be so easy. Not for a man not even 5.4 feet tall, weighing not even a hundred and ten pounds. And I don't know what Floyd saw in my eyes, but he looked like he was about to wet his pants.
Five - and u will love that from a professional point of view: I don't just dream about gliding over the city and the suburbs - I see these images even when I'm awake and close my eyes. And more and more often I don't know if I'm dreaming or awake. Is THIS a dream- now that I'm sitting across from you?"
He looked at Davis briefly and then shrugged his shoulders. "I don't know, but it's getting dangerous. I - I was sleepwalking last night. I came back to myself on Mrs. Conner's roof! On the second floor. I could have broken my neck. What ... if I sleepwalked to the Eyrie building and fell off the battlements there!? Everyone would think I'd killed myself voluntarily. To everyone, I'd just be the depressive suicide. But ... I don't want to leave Lex and the clan, I love them. I would never let Lex down like that but I-"
Nathaniel reflexively caught the button out of the air, which popped off his doctor's jeans and almost shot out one of his eyes. The former gargoyle and the supposedly human psychologist looked at each other in bewilderment. Without commenting further, Nathaniel reached forward to give her back her top button. She then rubbed her stomach, which looked like she had overeaten (or was in the early stages of pregnancy).
"But?" Davis asked after she had quietly belched with her hand in front of her mouth and apologized for it. Nathaniel had gotten very good at ignoring oddities and everything naturally paled next to his own weirdness. God, she needed a vacation and a fast, but everything here was so delicious.
Nathaniel took a deep breath. " But - Lex and I. We're spending time together. Like I spend time with all the gargoyles. And Lex and I - we cuddle and kiss but ... somehow something constantly gets in the way (mostly my echoes) when we want to do more and I realize that Lex is getting more insecure because I'm more insecure but I still desire him and - I think I'm pretty frustrated on that front. But I can barely talk to him right now. I know he and I have agreed to tell each other the truth. If something is bothering us or upsetting us. But I don't tell him about these things and I know he knows I'm hiding things from him. And I feel disgusting and mean about it but how could I explain something like that to him. He would want to help me but how could he? If he can't help me, if no one can help me - why burden him? It's the echoes, it'll pass, I bugged Alex about it again even though he was ailing and he told me to just stay calm."
"Perhaps this most important first rule was never about whether someone could help the other person. Maybe it was just about the other person being there for you in difficult or unstable situations."
Nate looked at her questioningly, his face a single question mark.
Davis smiled.
"If the situation were reversed - and Lexington was the one hiding things from you, but you realized he was bothered. Would you want him to share his burdens with you?"
" Of course I would want to know about his worries. "
"Even if you can't help him?"
" ... sure. That's what friends are for. That's what Clan is for."
"Then you have your answer."
She leaned back and let that sink in a little. Nathaniel looked anything but ready for action. He was a tough nut to crack. Davis reached over and pulled open the drawer at her desk. She felt Nathaniel's gaze on her as she pulled out the prescription pad.
"I'll prescribe you something that will help you."
"Really? Oh, thank you."
Nathaniel's face practically lit up as the pen scratched across the paper.
"Gladly. I'm sure it will do you good and keep your mind from wandering too much. She tore the sheet from her prescription pad, handed it to Nathaniel and his smile disappeared, giving way to a huge frown as he read the words.
"Reconnect with normality. Activities with people who care about you. Return to the workplace." The only thing missing when he looked up was a pouting protruding lower lip. "Is that some kind of confrontation therapy?"
Davis grinned. If Nathaniel was going to make her fat, fatter, fattest, she wasn't going to make it any easier for him. Impending disaster or not. "If you fall off a horse, you'd better get back on quickly or the fear will intensify. I'll let Lexington know that you're going back to the company the day after tomorrow and that this is part of your therapy. Then you won't be tempted to wriggle out of it. Will I see you again at the end of the week?"
"Sure," Nathaniel growled gargoyle-like.
Thanks for reading, Q.T.