Chapter Nineteen

Nicolle had a long tradition of staying silent during tense moments. She held that tradition in the hours that followed the Eclipse Bowl; her eyes darted between a frantic Vee and an enraged Dominic, a spectator of ping pong, yet she said very little herself. The entire matter seemed out of her hands; she was now quietly

fearfully

awaiting the repercussions.

Where Darius, Jackson, and Brooklyn had gone wasn’t known; it was assumed they were partying with the rest of the excited triumphant. Dominic had attempted to call them, then text them, then angrily scream into the air for them, all to no response. Eventually Dominic, Vee, Elijah, and Nicolle retreated back to the van Valen house for no other reason than to have a waiting place until the planned postgame meeting.

“… you all sure seem tense,” Cora said. She had come into Vee’s room with hot chocolate and a warm smile, entering so quickly after her knock that Dominic nearly spoke secrets in front of her; barely a word was said by anyone as she passed around the mugs. “I thought you guys won the game tonight?”

“We did, Mrs. van Valen,” Dominic said, never taking his eyes from the television; Vee stared at the floor and tried to look a little less worried, at least until her mother left, Nicolle assumed. Elijah did not acknowledge her at all, standing in the corner with his eyes closed as if tired… he alone wore no sunglasses.

“Then why’s the party so blah?” She said this happily, optimistically, her smile warm still. “You guys should be out with friends or something, shouldn’t you? Not sitting around up here, you know… wearing sunglasses in the house and everything…”

On the television there was a smiling bald man in a suit tie, a montage of football players smacking into one another flashing behind him: “Let me tell you, BIG games across Georgia tonight, big rivalries especially in the northern part of the state, a few upsets, and what is without question one of THE most spectacular plays in college football HISTORY… not joking! Catch it here when the news starts in sixty seconds…”

Nicolle alone offered a weak smile, but the joke fell flat; tonight wasn’t the night. Without much else Cora, taking the hint, grabbed the tray she’d carried in with her and walked to the door. She opened it, stepped through, closed it slowly…

The door shut with a click.

“As I was saying,” Dominic continued. “No public Artistries. At all. Even in private use discretion.”

“Is that necessary?” Vee asked. Dominic’s eyes grew big and she forestalled him with a raised hand. “I know this is serious, you don’t have to tell me that! I’m already scared enough! But not all Artistries can be seen by others, it doesn’t make logical sense to just stop everything�"”

“Vee�"” Dominic began.

“It’s a necessary precaution,” Elijah spoke up from the side. Normally his smooth voice was sexy to Nicolle’s ears; on this night, the night of the Eclipse Bowl, which inevitably would burn into her memory in infamy, it comes to her more as assuring. “You have to understand what exactly has happened tonight. Two Artists�"”

“Elijah, I already know�"” He raised a patient finger, cutting her off.

“Two Artists �" by nature individuals whose way of life is concealed from the public �" publically used their Artistries�"”

“Elijah, I know…” Vee began again, but stopped as Dominic upped the volume on the television; the news station’s opening cinematic and the your home station for the sports news you wanna hear voiceover ran its course before the man in the suit and tie returned, his face red with excitement, his words coming out fast:

“WHOA! That’s what I was saying tonight when I saw the footage everyone and their grandma and their GREAT grandma is talking about, one of the most INCREDIBLE plays I know I’ve ever seen�"”

The man disappears; the Maple Hill High football stadium appeared on the screen, footage from mere hours ago.

“�"executed during the Maple Hill, Gibbons rivalry game, ‘The Eclipse Bowl’, as they call it, by two names that YOU WILL BE HEARING LOUD AND CLEAR when the coaches come to call for the draft, I’m talking about number sixty-six Jackson McKay and number eleven Darius Geldart, the quarterback and a running-back for the Maple Hill suns… watch this, folks�"”

Nicolle watched the scene unfold before her again: Darius running full speed downfield, Jackson falling back to pass the ball, the ball going downfield faster than any throw probably ever. The cameraman was unable to follow it; by the time the screen refocused on Darius the ball was already caught and the crowd was screaming.

Dominic groaned painfully, angrily.

“�"I guarantee you, right now Mr. McKay is hearing ‘sign here, here, and here,’ guys, because DID YOU SEE THAT PASS?! Can you say HEISMAN?! BUT THAT’S NOT ALL, NO, CHECK OUT THE PASS AGAIN FROM THIS ANGLE�"”

With a growing discomfort in her stomach Nicolle watched the play again, but this time from a downfield perspective. The ball was thrown like a missile, eliciting an impressed curse from the amateur cameraman, and was clearly going to miss Darius, who was leaving for it. The camera caught his stop-time Artistry fairly well, even amidst the shaking and hollering, Darius was at first out of range and then, suddenly, was in range.

            “Damn him, damn them both,” Dominic said quietly.

            “… these social media sites are ablaze, people, get this… crazyyodeler76 posts ‘LOL can this be real?’ Anonymous from Kennesaw says, ‘tonight, the Eclipse Bowl, tomorrow THE SUPER BOWL�"”

            Dominic turned the TV off and laid his face in one of his hands.

            “Like I was saying,” Elijah said, “their Artistries were pretty clearly caught on film tonight. I know you know that, and you know it’s bad, but what you don’t know is how bad.”

            “Neither do you,” she said.

            “But I have a good idea,” Elijah said. “I don’t think we’re safe anymore. Someone will see that footage, someone’s gonna put the pieces together. And I’m not talking about ‘someone’ being an overzealous kid having fun on the internet; I’m talking about people with much more influence and power. Those people might not exist… it’s entirely possible. For all I know we may be the only ones in the world. But I don’t think it’s likely. Artists aren’t probably some new thing that suddenly appeared only in our high school, it’s probably been around much longer, and surely there are others out there that know. That would, justifiably, treat us as a potential threat.”

            “No Artistries,” Dominic repeated. Elijah nodded.

            “Except in life-or-death scenarios,” he added. “We don’t know who’s watching us now… what we originally thought were subtle Artistries, like telepathy, may not be so subtle to someone if they know what to look for.”

            Vee massaged her temples, which did nothing to relieve the unhappy expression on her face. “This is insane.”

            “We don’t even know if Darius and Jackson are okay right now,” Elijah said. “For all we know, someone has recognized them already from the news footage.”

            “If dad saw the footage, he’d recognize it… maybe he could help us,” Dominic thought aloud.

            “What you mean is if dad saw that there were Artists here, he might actually have some reason to care about us,” Elijah quipped.

            “Please, please don’t have this discussion tonight, please,” Vee said. Dom looked at Elijah hard but seemed to agree with Vee; there were bigger things to worry about.

            Nicolle looked at her telephone clock and at last spoke softly.

            “It’s almost eleven.”

            Everyone looked at her and then, seemingly in unison, took one large breath, a moment of calm before whatever was about to happen. Dominic started for the door.

            “Come on, then. Time to get some a*s on my boot.”

 

            Timmy checked his cell phone clock. It was almost time. A date with destiny. A date with Nicolle.

            His room was dark, lit only by a weak lamp on his bedside table. He kept it that way now; should anyone come into his room or see him through his window the low light would keep them from seeing his Yellow Eyes. Even still, checking himself out in the dirty mirror on the wall, he could see them still. Those beautiful sunflower eyes had saved his life.

            He was dressed for success: a black suit, bought for the occasion of prom, which he did not attend. But that didn’t matter... tonight he would wear it, and they would dance. Dance under the gloriously starry sky, shooting stars ripping through the atmosphere above, each one granting the wish he’d had since he’d first seen Nicolle Darling.

            A date with destiny.

            Nearly two years back Timmy bought a gift for Nicolle, a gift that was never given. It was now sitting on his bed, wrapping paper nearby to finish it off with. It was a musical chest, a box that, when opened, played the most lovely piano music, and inside: a small black rabbit and a small white rabbit, their figurines set on a circular track that moved with the song. The black rabbit was behind the white rabbit; when the pieces moved the black seemed to be chasing the white, a playful game of catch-me-if-you-can. Timmy liked to view himself as the black rabbit, chasing the white, Nicolle, a playful game of romance. This gift would be cherished by her forever; when they were old and had lived their lives together, this chest would be beside her bed, playing the music that had become her favorite the first night she heard it...

            He was in love. With a nervous smile Timmy set to wrapping the music box and placing the red bow on top. The end result was an oddly misshapen gift, but that wouldn’t matter. Once she opened it her heart would melt.

            It was time to go at last.

            Timmy opened his bedroom door and stepped into the living room. His mother was on the couch in a nightgown, a book titled The Biography of Henry Blem: The Father of the Pencil Sharpener in her lap. She looked at him with a look of great confusion.

            “Timmy…? What are you wearing that for?”

            “I’m going out to meet Nicolle,” he said, reaching for the doorknob. “Not sure when I’ll be back.”

            She smiled kindly at him. “Sweetie, it’s nearly eleven! You can’t go out this late, it’ll be too dangerous!”

            The power is flowing from my mind

            “Lay down and sleep, mom,” Timmy said, meeting her eyes, “and don’t worry about me anymore tonight.”

            and into your own…

            The conversation was over. Dorothy’s book fell to the floor in a clatter; she laid down across the couch and closed her eyes. She would be asleep soon. Without another word Timmy opened the front door and began walking to his car, Nicolle’s gift underneath his arm.

 

            “… why can’t Peter be there?” Vee asked.

            Dominic read the text message as he drove. “Says his dad won’t let him go out this late. We could have used the extra support…”

            “Will Elyse be there?” Nicolle asked.

            “Yes, she’s on her way in her car,” Vee said. “We told her to stay to herself though until we show up… don’t want any trouble…”

            The four of them �" Dominic, Vee, Nicolle, and Elijah �" were in Dominic’s Jeep Cherokee. Classic rock played softly on the radio. There was very little traffic on the streets this late but the town was littered with streamers and trees were covered in toilet paper, all in celebration of a Solar Eclipse. None of it mattered to Nicolle; she sat in the back seat with Elijah, both of them silent as a rock. Her heart fluttered partially because he was near her, partially because she was nervous. She had an idea that what was about to happen wouldn’t be the most diplomatic conversation between Chess Clubbers.

            Her thoughts were deep: what would happen if the meeting escalated into something bad? Typically if teens acted up or there was a conflict after dark the police were called, or the teens parent’s, but what good would any of that do in this situation? The only authority in this situation was the authority of the Chess Club officers, all three of which she was riding with. And never before had that authority seemed less powerful; as familiar landmarks passed outside her window, each drawing them closer and closer to the school parking lot, the designated place of meeting, Nicolle’s anxiety sharpened; her breathing became heavy and fast.

            “Relax.”

            His solitary, soft word made Nicolle jump; she looked to Elijah on her right and noted the resolve on his face, the lack of fear, the control of emotions, and drank it in greedily. Despite his life being a tornado of discomfort and pain lately he did not look defeated. He looked strong, capable of handling anything.

            When the time came, she would find peace hiding in his shadow.

            “Elyse is texting me,” Vee said. One second, two seconds: “No.”

            “What, what is it?” Dominic asked, looking frantically from the road to Vee.

            Vee read and reread the text. “God help us. They’re showing off.”

            “What do you mean?” Elijah asked.

            The vehicle turned a corner and, nearly a football field away, nestled against the gymnasium, was the parking lot. From a distance Nicolle could see a crowd of people, perhaps numbering fifty or so; a large bon fire had been lit nearby. Dominic sped up and reached them quickly, the Cherokee sliding on the gravel as he came in for a landing. Some turned to see who it was that had arrived; most did not, instead continuing to watch whatever was happening in the middle of everyone.

            “Oh… … my…” Nicolle said.

            Jackson stood in the middle of everyone, his hands lifted high over his head, and in his hands, a pick-up truck; the bed was loaded down with excited students, some of them waving beer bottles above their heads. Sweat poured off of Jackson liberally, his rippling muscles shining in the glow of the fire.

Everyone watched on as Darius, smiling wide, hopped into the back seat of a nearby grounded vehicle; moments later he emerged from the driver’s side seat of the airborne pick-up, causing the crowd of half-drunk people to scream in shock and awe. Cell phones were out, filming, taking pictures.

Vee’s door opened and Elyse was there.

“Are you seeing this?!” Her voice was hysterical with fear. “What do we do?!”

No one answered; no one could. Jackson slowly lowered the truck to the ground; his strength gave a little towards the end, causing the truck to race downward and crash on its back wheels hard; the students screamed, then cheered. Jackson and Darius took a bow before the crowd, smiles on their faces, their moods jubilant with newfound celebrity. Brooklyn stepped off the back of the pickup truck �" she alone wasn’t wearing her sunglasses �" and joined them, laughing, carefree.

            Dominic’s door flew open and he was moving for the crowd, fury pouring off him. Elijah immediately followed, then Vee; Nicolle timidly opened her door and stepped out onto the gravel, just in time to hear Dominic’s first words.

            “DARIUS GELDART, JACKSON MCKAY, BROOKLYN MCKENNA!! COME HERE!”

            The crowd silenced… then they ooooed… then they laughed. This newcomer to the party was apparently challenging the great and wonderful heroes of the Eclipse Bowl; the Evil Three watched Dominic, Elijah, and Vee’s approach with haughty grins.

            “Mr. President!” Darius mocked a little bow. “I was wonderin’ when you’d show up! HEY EVERYONE! SEE THIS FELLA?! HE’S A TOUGH GUY, HEAR?”

            The crowd laughed again. Vee looked at Dominic and Nicolle did not like what she saw on her friend’s face. She was afraid.

            “YEAH,” Jackson added, “THE PRESIDENT OF THE CHESS CLUB! BIG AND TOUGH AND MAKES ALLLLL THE RULES!”

            Everyone laughed again.

            “Come with us, you three,” Elijah said, his voice level and threatening. “Don’t choose the hard way.”

            Brooklyn’s high pitched laugh was pure mockery, and once again the crowd joined her. “BIG OL’ CHWESS CWUB OFFICERS GONNA MAKE US PAY?!”

            “You better damn BELIEVE we will!” Vee’s retort was echoed off the walls of the gym; her anger made her voice shake.

            “Elyse,” Dominic called out, not even turning around to face her, “help.”

            Nicolle looked to Elyse, as did several others from the crowd. Elyse knit her hands together tight, as if in fervent prayer, and closed her eyes hard. Nicolle didn’t understand at first… and then students began to back away. Then some ran away. Students began to flee the premises as if being chased by a bee swarm, not even bothering with getting into their cars. The Go-Away Artistry. As they retreated Elyse walked with them, ensuring their continued absence, walking, walking… gone.

            “I don’t blame you for making everybody leave, Dom,” Darius yelled across the parking, the bon fire burning nearby. “It’s gonna be pretty embarrassing getting your a*s kicked.”

            “You three realize what you’ve done?” Dominic said, and his voice was surprisingly clear. “What you’ve endangered? What you may have cost us all, even yourselves?”

            “I know what I might have done to your mama last night,” Jackson said, and Brooklyn guffawed, actually slapping her knee.

            Elijah’s jaw was set like steel, his fist clenched tight. “It’s your grave.”

            Nicolle sank to her knees. Elijah was tough, she knew it, she’d seen it, but… Jackson was an Artist of the Red. He was made for conflict, but Elijah was just an Artist of the White, what could he do to defend himself…? This couldn’t be happening, it just couldn’t�"

            “We’re done listening to you, all three of you,” Darius said. “We quit the Chess Club. You can go screw yourselves.”

            “Oh, and…” Brooklyn added, “… as a special little something for earlier today, Vivian…”

            Brooklyn reached out and took the hand Darius held out to her. They vanished�"

            -- Vee stood much shorter than both of them, which was easy to see with both Darius and Brooklyn standing directly in front of her. Darius vanished again�"

            -- and suddenly he was behind Vee, his arms wrapped around her tight. Brooklyn made a fist, Darius yelled payback’s a b***h, and Vee took the punch straight to the face.

            Chaos�"

            Dominic screamed, teleported, his scream echoing across space and time: his disembodied hand took Darius by the collar and they were gone, Vee with them�"

            “Ahhhhh!” Elyse screamed, pointing to the sky�"

            -- they were falling, all three of them, racing toward the earth, punching, kicking, roaring; a sound like a piccolo screaming its highest note blasted, the fabric of space-time being stretched and pulled, and they vanished again; Darius reappeared on his feet on the ground again, the inertia of the fall shooting him for several yards, his feet sliding on the gravel before finally losing balance and piling up on the ground. Dominic, Vee safe his arms, exploded back into the world with the same force, blowing the gravel beneath him skyward. His sunglasses were lost in the havoc; his Green Eyes were aflame in anger.

            “Vee!” Nicolle screamed, and her attention shifted: Jackson leapt, clearing the bonfire and landing on the other side directly in front of Elijah. Facts concerning the Red Artistry returned to her as Elijah took on a fighting stance: they can charge either offense or defense, but not both… it seemed Jackson had chosen offense, seeing as he was able to leap over the fire with enhanced strength. What would happen to a human struck with the charged power of an Artist of the Red…?

            Jackson swung, his shirtless torso showcasing his powerful muscles; Elijah dodged skillfully and jabbed, taking Jackson right in the face�"

            -- Jackson shoved Elijah, sending him some twenty-five yards back; Elijah’s shirt mangled in the back from the crash into the gravel, blood already beginning to show. Elijah returned to his feet in time to dodge a kick from Jackson, a kick that likely would have killed him; Elijah sent a well-aimed kick to Jackson’s knee and the Artist of the Red buckled�"

            -- Jackson threw an uppercut, barely connecting, and Elijah was in the air again. Nicolle screamed; he collided with a student’s abandoned car, and the windows shattered, the door dented�"

            -- out of nowhere Darius appeared in midair above Elijah, falling, falling, prepared to stomp�"

            -- Dominic appeared beside him, lip bloody, grabbed Darius, vanished, reappeared inside a school bus parked nearby, punches flying�"

            Brooklyn was running at Vee and Vee was running at Brooklyn, their faces contorted with anger; they met and began clawing ,screaming, kicking, punching. It was Vee’s advantage: her more skillful telepathy was a heads up to Brook’s movements, Vee was a step ahead, but Brooklyn was bigger�"

            Jackson was running at Elijah, who was not moving to defend himself; Nicolle forced her legs to stand and run, felt the death touch in her fingers tingling, she didn’t want to do it again

            her mother gasped, unable to catch her breath

            but this was Elijah, so the power in her fingers doubled�"

            Elijah moved just in time; Jackson’s strike destroyed the car, sending it flying back into the cars parked beside it; Elijah punched Jackson’s side, his face; Jackson grabbed Elijah’s shirt and pulled him into a hold, preparing to crush him�"

            Elijah sent one hand up and pressed it angrily to Jackson’s ear. Nicolle feared this was a wasted move, a feeble punch, maybe… but no. Jackson began to stumble, to wobble, and Elijah pushed himself out of the hold, punching Jackson once, twice, thrice in the face, a strike to the stomach, another strike to the face. Whatever Elijah had done, it was an Artistry, and Jackson struggled to keep his footing from it�"

            -- the piccolo sounded again and leaves exploded from the tall oak that Elijah had once kissed Presley under; Darius and Dominic were in the tree, teleporting from limb to limb, then they were on the gravel again, then they were in the air�"

            Jackson collapsed to the ground and didn’t get back up, his ears bleeding. Blood pouring from his arms and back Elijah took a step back and watched his brother duel the football hero, perhaps watching for an opportunity to help�"

            Nicolle turned and ran for Vee and Brooklyn. They seemed about even, both girl’s hair sticking out everywhere, clothes ripped, lips bloodied; Nicolle neared Brook with her palms outstretched�"

            “Stay away from me with that,” Brooklyn said �" no smile, for once �" backing away from Vee.

            “Stay away from Vee and I will,” Nicolle said. Brooklyn didn’t move, she merely stared at Vee with loathing… then Vee roared and leapt at her, slapping her across the face, and they were fighting again.

            Behind them Dominic suddenly appeared, and he fell to one knee, gasping for breath; Darius, limping, appeared several yards from him, blood coming from his nose and dripping down his chin.

            “Dominic, to me!” Elijah yelled; Dominic vanished again and was beside Elijah, who laid his hands on his brother and began to stitch up his cuts, soothe his pain, remove his bruises; Darius did not attack them, not likely having the courage to challenge the Beaumonts together.

            Dominic’s healing was unlikely finished when he vanished, appeared beside Vee, grabbed her and Nicolle and�"

            darkness, twisting, twirling, coldness, heat, wind

            they were beside Elijah, the four of them united again. Nicolle fell to the ground and wondered if she would vomit. That had been her first time teleporting.

            There was no movement. Dust from the kicked gravel filled the air; leaves from the high parts of the tree still drifted down from being disturbed. Only now did Nicolle hear the car alarms blasting from the vehicles that Jackson and Elijah had broken. Jackson crawled over to Darius and Brooklyn and hobbled to his feet. The two parties merely stared at one another for a moment, saying nothing at all, drinking it the reality of what had just taken place. The Chess Club was dead.

            “Stay the hell away from us,” Darius said, pointing his finger threateningly. “I mean it. Come near us again with that high and mighty routine and I’ll tell everybody everything, I swear.”

            “You do that and I’ll personally make you regret you ever did, you understand?” Dominic yelled. “You�"”

            Darius grabbed Brooklyn and Jackson and vanished.

            “Drive the Cherokee back home Eli,” Dominic said, walking away. “Darius can’t teleport long distances, he can’t be far...”

            “Don’t go looking for them, Dom.” Elijah’s hand was on Vee’s shoulder; her lip, which had been swollen to the point of turning inside out, returned to its normal size, but the blood remained; her eyes were sad with grief, grief for Dominic. “We can’t contain them anymore. Drop it for now.”

            Dominic ignored him.

            “Let me come, Dom,” Vee called to him as he walked away. “Don’t be alone right now. Let me come. Please. Please.”

            She caught up with him and put her hand on his back, looking up to him imploringly. Their eyes met with what must have been sad understanding, and then they were gone.

            They were alone, Elijah and Nicolle. He gave her no time to sentimentalize the occasion by immediately saying: “Come on… I’ll drive you to your car.”

            Her thoughts nearly as heavy as her tired, shaking legs, Nicolle walked to the passenger’s side door in confused disarray. She sat down next to the boy she loved �" even now, of all times, hyper aware of his Elijahness being so near to her �" and didn’t say a word as he drove them away.

 

            The stars above numbered in the thousands, some bright, some dim, some blocked by the dark canopies of the trees that lined the vacant midnight road; there was the sound of wind buffeting the Cherokee, the sound of soft piano music playing from the radio, but nothing else. They moved through the back roads without saying a word to one another; Nicolle’s heart nearly burst from the nervousness of it. There was a sense of finality to it all, a sense of now or never. Who knew what tomorrow would bring, with all that had happened during and after the Eclipse Bowl. The world was sinking, it seemed, and for her all that was real was the boy she loved sitting next to her, entirely unaware that Nicolle had made up her mind to show him her love before the night was over. To show him her love before the sun rose the next morning and with it, possibly, the end of all things.

            Now or never.

            Nicolle swallowed, wetting her dried throat, and tried to summon the courage to speak.

            “… what will happen to us now…?”

            …

            … he didn’t respond. There was wind, and the soft piano, but nothing else.

            “… I know a lot of this has to be hard to handle… but… if you want somebody to talk to that’s not your brominic… I-I mean, that’s not Dominic, or Vee… I, um… I, um… I wouldn’t mind�"”

            “I’m fine,” Elijah said, but Nicolle heard please stop talking.

            They were drawing ever closer to the place where he would drop her off. Internally Nicolle began to panic; she searched deep into the well of her heart, found only a little courage, and drew it up as quickly as she could.

            “You’re hurt,” she observed; his shirt was ripped on the side, and beneath it, gashes and blood. His breathing was calm but a little unnatural.

            He didn’t reply.

            “If… you want to, we can run by my house and I’ll run in and grab some medicine and stuff, I can get some bandages�"”

            “No thank you,” he said. Please stop talking.

            They drove on, Nicolle’s hope sinking, the wind blowing, the piano playing on; Elijah offered nothing to go on, either by word or expression. He was like a rock.

            Nicolle sent the bucket back down the well one last time. A trickle of courage was all that remained, and she took it desperately; there was only enough to speak, but not enough to look at him as she did.

            “There’s only so much a person can take going it alone… you don’t have to be so tough, Elijah,” she whispered, his name making her heart leap. “A lot of people don’t understand what you’re going through… but… but I think I do. I, um… I know what it’s like to be abandoned by a father at a young age… I know what it’s like to suffer when it comes to a romance�"”

            The Cherokee began to slow down, braking, braking, until finally it was still; they had come to a stop in the middle of a long, concrete bridge. Elijah didn’t even turn off the vehicle when he threw his door open and climbed out. Nicolle watched him walk, his clothes and hair whipping in the midnight breeze, first in the headlights and then in the darkness; he went to the edge of the bridge and leaned on his elbows, looking out over the dark waters below.

            Nicolle pushed open her door and nervously climbed out.

            “Elijah…” she said, and he paid her no attention. “Elijah, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean…”

            “Leave me alone… please.” His voice was controlled, calm, pained. “Please.”

            Nicolle nodded, though he wasn’t looking at her to see; she walked back to the Cherokee and started to climb back in…

            … his White Eyes locked onto her Black Eyes for a moment; Nicolle’s heart raced like a piston. And then: so carefully he reached out his hand and caressed her face. Nicolle’s heart stopped, her breathing stopped. He leaned forward over the table so that their faces were only about a foot from touching…

            … now or never. Nicolle quietly walked up behind him and, with the last of the courage in her well, laid a hand on his shoulder.

            “You were my healer once,” she whispered. “Let me be that for you, too.”

            She could feel her skin ripping slowly, could feel the bruises setting it. Elijah likely felt his own wounds repairing, and as soon as he did he raised up and turned around, taking Nicolle’s hand off him.

            “I told you never to use that Artistry again,” he said, both confused and chastising. “I can heal on my own.”

            Nicolle nodded. She suddenly realized just how strong he must have been to even drive with those wounds; now that they were hers she could barely stand.

            “Some wounds don’t heal alone,” she said. “Sometimes you need to lean on another. You… you need me. And now… I need you.”

            Her knees were shaking, near to buckling; Elijah wrapped his arm around her waist, holding her close to him, holding her up. Throughout her body she felt the icy cold of his White Artistry, then the fiery heat, and her wounds began to disappear.

            He began to release her, to back away, and Nicolle clung to him.

            “No,” she said, meeting his eyes. She planned to say more but couldn’t find the words. So she completed the hug, taking him in tighter and laying her head on his chest.

            “This is insane,” Elijah said, gently pushing her off him. “I’ve told you several times already, leave me alone. I don’t need anyone… I barely know you, why would I confide in you? I�"”

            She felt his other arm go around her waist and tighten, holding her against his warm torso. He couldn’t see her face, a fortunate thing; her eyes were wide in shock. His chin rested on the top of her head, weary of reaching the breaking point, and, by act of a miracle, at long, long, last, Elijah stopped turning away, Elijah stopped pretending to be rock, and he gave in to the comfort of another.

            “I will carry you if you let me,” Nicolle said.

            The wind blew so hard, but still, listening closely, the soft sound of that piano chimed; she listened to the waters rushing beneath them, listened to the sound of his breathing, her head moving with his rising chest.

            His face out of her sight, he spoke, his voice nearly breaking:

            “Okay.”

            She held him, and he held her back, and the future was changed forever.

 

            His car idled at a distance, lights off. The sound of his approach was probably drowned out by the heavy wind; their outlines were locked in an embrace, showing no signs of thought for Timmy Stoker at all.

            He cried. And he cried. And he cursed with an anger that consumed his very soul. They would pay, ohhhh how they would all pay. He would bring them all to their knees and break them, break them brutally, make them beg for his forgiveness; he would take away everything that meant anything to them, destroying their hopes, their dreams, their loves…

            A heavy wrench sat in the floorboard of his backseat. He took it, swung as hard as he could, and Nicolle’s gift, the gift that symbolized their love, busted inside the wrapping paper. It gave a feeble tune, its last breath of life, and then nothing.

            Timmy drove the car back the way he came with a new, angry resolve, and the future was changed forever.