Praefatio: A Novel (6 page)

I never did get my new bike.

***

“Come on, Grace, you’ve gotta wake up. You’ve gotta run, can you run?” Remi pleaded with me. I hadn’t been asleep, I didn’t think. I looked around to get my bearings. He put me on the ground, and somehow my feet started moving.

Still, I couldn’t shake the feeling. We were gonna die.

You will not die tonight. Your strength will save us all.
His
voice broke through my thoughts like vice cops with a search warrant. I knew
He
would find me, that
He
would not let them … that
He
could not let me die.

Still dizzy, my eyes focused on a white barn with blue accents. Despite everything, it appeared serene, untouched by evil. We were safe.
He’s right.
We’re gonna be OK.

We entered. The pain in my leg had eased up. I felt down to the fork-shaped wound. The blood had dried and a scab was already forming.
There is no way in the world that this wound should have healed in minutes. Maybe I am going into shock. Maybe the stress of the situation is too much. Maybe this is what happens to the mind before one dies.

Remi paced back and forth, mumbling and shaking his head in defiance as if having a conversation with someone I couldn’t see. What I did see were flashes of light from outside through the cracks in between the wooden planks of the barn walls. It was like before, at the house. Heavy legs crawled up the sides of the barn, shaking the structure as they went. Scraping, panting, and loud thumping filled my ears. It was over. This was it. We had nowhere to run.

And then there was Remi. Where exactly had he come from? He just sort of showed up one day. Mom never mentioned how she came to acquire him or why he’d suddenly become a part of our family.

Even as I got older, I never doubted the bond we’d shared. He
was
my brother plain and simple. I never once thought about what the lack of biological connection could mean until right then—when the differences between us became clear.

In face of evil, Remi had led me away from the house and healed me when I became injured. What the hell was he? There, in a barn in the middle of nowhere, Remi was all I had. Now Remi’s secrets were going to cost me, going to cost us both our lives.

I turned to Remi, now crouched on the floor opposite me, thumping his head against the barn wall as if trying to shake the answers loose from his brain. It was past time for him to tell me what was going on.

He leaned forward and said in a voice slightly above a whisper, “Sleep.” It wasn’t a noun; it was an order.

“What?” I asked in a sluggish drawl, already feeling the effects of his words on my body. My eyes grew heavy, the present slipping away. I wanted to will my mind to reject all I had seen, to sleep and wake in my bed at home with the Larsons.

Remi stood and crossed the room to the barn entrance in what seemed like one long, floating stride. Just then something big and angry burst through the doors and cast a giant shadow on the floor. There was a near-blinding light behind Remi—or maybe coming from him. He raised his hands and I struggled to keep my eyes open.

My mind went on overload.
Oh my God, are those … Fangs? But the girl … has … w … w … what in the world? I am either dead, crazy, or both,
was all I could think. Two more crashed through the door in a ball of wings and fire and then unrolled into people.
My eyes, so heavy
… Dark … Eyes now slits.

Remi, suddenly clothed in golden armor, held two huge axes in either hand. On his back, affixed in the shape of an X were two long swords. He took a deep breath, then simultaneously leveled the axes at the Fireball Boys.

Nice one, Remi … Kick his
… Sleepy …
Remi, memento mori
.
Respice post te
! … Remi. Oh my God, Remi. Your back. Is. On. Fire!

Then Black.

Nothing.

What’s that beeping? Remi? Remi, where are you?

PART TWO

Was It a Dream?

When I Get Outta Here, I’m Gonna Write a Book!

I woke in a white room, head pounding. My semi-lifeless body pressed down like a one-ton weight into the slab of collective fibers they called a “bed.” It was a sad attempt to support what was left of a badly broken girl. I didn’t know then that a ruptured mind and tattered body made me an easier target, and that it was only a matter of time before they’d try to kill me again.

I wasn’t certain, but the beeping and oddly familiar smell of sickness and industrial-strength cleaners indicated I was likely in a hospital. How I had arrived at said hospital, I didn’t know. My thoughts drifted to
Him
as I let my mind wander.

“Is she still out?” I heard a familiar voice ask. It was almost like she was singing, but off-key.

Mom?

“Will she remember what happened?” It was Dad that time.

I was sure the meds were responsible. The last time I’d seen Dad was on the news when they announced his death from a head-on collision. The concern in his voice was easy to discern, and the secrecy of his tone was the same as ever. Definitely Dad.
But how
?

I wasn’t sure what they were hoping I wouldn’t recall. Surely they couldn’t expect me to have forgotten being hunted by huge, shape-shifting dogs that turned from bears into fanged angels or that creepy blond girl who attacked my little brother, who just happened to have sprouted huge fiery wings from his back?

Nurse!
I couldn’t decide if what I needed was more meds, stronger meds, or to be carted off to the psychiatric ward.

My head pain was pretty intense; I couldn’t speak at first. Just keeping my eyes open was a chore, let alone figuring out what Mom and Dead Dad were up to.

“I think she’s awake.” The voice was even and assured. This time, it felt real—not in my head, not distant, but right there in the room. Hearing it sent warmth through my body like a coil that slowly unraveled, starting from my toes, past my knees and then lingering at my thighs before moving up toward my chest, past my neck and ending with burning cheeks. Hearing it, I felt lighter, like my body was no longer pressed into the bed.

It was
HIM
, the
voice
,
my
voice,
my life
. He’d found me. I knew at that moment that I would do whatever he asked of me, go anywhere with him. And then I
saw
him, and everything I knew before went out the window. I knew only what he would tell me next.

His face.
No!
It couldn’t be. This was too much for my broken mind to handle. I could deal with the demonic creatures, and even angels, but not this.

I began gasping, inhaling, inhaling, inhaling, but was unable to exhale. My chest felt like it would explode from the pressure.

“Relax, it’s OK. Calm down. Breathe. Slow.” He spoke, and my body responded to his orders. Slowly, I settled into a regular breathing pattern and studied him.

His features faded in and out. It took a lot of energy to focus. I wished he’d come closer. My body was working overtime to piss me off. It wasn’t clear if his features were dark, or if it was just his mood.

His skin held a pale hue, like maybe they didn’t have summer where he’s from. Eyes that seemed like they couldn’t decide whether to be blue or green peered at me with what appeared to be concern. He may have had a hairstyle at one time, but it was grossly overgrown. The look was effortless on him, jet black and kissing his shoulders.

How did Mom and Dead Dad know him?

My thoughts were all scrambled, like someone was rewinding the last few weeks, or maybe erasing them, preparing to replace them with new ones, the way you would reformat a hard drive. It worsened my headache to see things race by so fast. What brief coherence I’d managed was gone, demolished by the appearance of a singular boy.

He moved with the grace of royalty from the open door to the side of my bed. He threw a furtive glance at Dead Dad and then nodded to Mom.

Just outside my room, nurses pointed, stared, and giggled like little girls. One had a camera, and two others angled for photos with their mobile phones. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw my mother wave her dainty hand and close the mini-blinds on the interior windows the nurses used to look in on patients. Fireflies fluttered in my stomach again, warm and quick, the truth of what I was and about to become secret and yet apparent.

As if last night was not enough of a toll on me, now Mom was there doing the same tricks Remi had taught me, only this time in the presence of Dead Dad and the voice from my head. I reached for the call button, but Mom shook her head at me, indicating that wasn’t a good idea.
Rats.

Dad stood in line, rigid and at attention as if awaiting orders. He looked like Dad, only nearly translucent. Like, Dead Dad would’ve. Should’ve. Since he was freaking dead, and I was hallucinating the worst hallucination ever. I covered my eyes, hoping that when I uncovered them, they’d all be gone. Well, not all of them.

But when I opened my eyes, they were still there, staring at me like I was crazy. Then there was a rush of tears. The kind that come when you realize your worst fear has come true. Their being there could only mean one thing: I was certifiably insane. I wasn’t special, as Dad had suspected, just nuts.

“Dad, Mom?” I looked from him to her, but it was as if I’d said nothing. Neither of them moved or even acknowledged that I’d spoken.

OH NO! Is this my last wish? Am I dying? Did someone, maybe Remi, think I would enjoy a visit from a rock star as my dying wish? It’s why I can see Dead Dad. He’s dead. I’m near-dead. And Remi sent a rock star to my hospital room as a wish-fulfillment thing. This is worse than I thought.

As I waited for words, movement—anything, it became clear that something urgent was happening, something more incredible than Remi and me being chased by otherworldlies and Monk Girl. And in my moment of clarity, the name of the boy came to me, the rock star. Gavin Vault, lead singer of Venus Unearthed.

My sanity had just taken another huge blow. The visions. The voices. Seeing Dead Dad and Gavin Vault and female monks, shape-shifting animals and Remi with fiery wings. In a few minutes, I’d gone from sort of hopeful to size eight straightjacket for the redheaded (bottle: Garnier Nutrisse Light Intense Auburn) insane. I closed my eyes and waited for them to come for me.

Gavin Vault took my right hand in his just as I had stopped breathing. It was like falling through space. Then a vision hit me like a wave of nausea.
Not again. Not now
.

In my vision I saw her, Monk Girl from the night before. This time up close, and this time we were alone, but I wasn’t afraid, and she wasn’t chasing me. She was laughing, smiling, and skipping; totally non-threatening. How stupid I’d been to fear her. She looked like Dead Dad, kind of translucent, but clearly a person. Then she ran toward me fast and grabbed my neck, taking my ability to breathe in her hands. For a translucent girl, she was pretty strong. She choked me, her eyes angry, determined. I read her mind. She wanted me dead. In a panic I reached up, grabbing, grasping at anything, and pulled the hood of her cloak down. A fit of air escaped my mouth as horror beat against my chest, tapping first and then pounding. I was staring into my own face, only with blond ringlets and hazel eyes.

“Grace, look at me.” Gavin’s voice was like a therapist bringing a patient out from under hypnosis.

When I opened my eyes, we were alone. He looked real, not imagined at all. His fingers were cool and soothing as they wrapped around my hand.

Where are Mom and Dead Dad?
Maybe they had never been there. I remained still, afraid to breathe too hard for fear it would push me over the edge, making me Grace, The Completely Unrecognizable.

“Remi, can you hear me?” No one answered.

I looked over at the boy by my bed. I wanted to believe he was real, and God knows he felt real as he sat there with his fingers tapping lightly against my own.

I began to speak, to ask him who he was and if he knew what was wrong with me. I had been completely fine the day before until all hell broke loose. I probably had some kind of concussion. A person does not go crazy overnight.
This boy, Gavin Vault, is just a gift from my mind to me to help me cope with the psychotic break.

He smiled and blinked slowly, letting his top lashes rest on his bottom ones for longer than was necessary.
Dreamy.

“You’re not ready yet. I can’t help you process anything you’ve been through until you heal … until your mind heals. Rest.” Gavin’s voice was even and direct. His eyebrows scrunched together in a show of concern.

“Wait,” I begged, but I don’t think it mattered. My voice was lost, too soft to be heard.

He smiled and whispered, “It’s OK. You’re not going mad. Everything will make sense soon. I promise. Sleep now, Grace. I’ll return later, when you’ve had time to regain your strength.” Gavin’s hand slid from my grasp as he stood and turned for the door.
Nooooooo! Don’t leave me here.

My eyes were instantly heavy. I struggled to watch him exit. There was a guy waiting in the hall. He patted Gavin on the back while looking at me with an odd expression. I blinked to stay awake, but I wanted to be rested for when the Larsons came, or Remi, so I could tell them everything.

As I drifted off, I reconsidered. Who would believe I’d had a visit from my dead father and the lead singer of Venus Unearthed? Absolutely no one.

This May Hurt a Little

When I opened my eyes, he was sitting in the chair next to my bed. A slight smile greeted me as we made eye contact. My body was too weak to respond.

“So I guess you’ve figured out you’ve won the contest,” he said matter-of-factly and moved closer. A cloud of concern shadowed his face. “Almost immediately after we determined you’d won, you were disqualified for having had one of your songs used in a commercial.” A smirk.