I enter the room with my heart pounding in my throat. It is a windowless space with sterile walls and little furniture: a tall, medical table, a chair and a built in cabinet with a small sink. Clark enters behind me and closes the door. He stands next to it, hanging back. He’s here to “protect” me. James wouldn’t let me come in by myself.
Charger sits on the medical table, his back against the corner where the two far walls meet. His knees are drawn up to his chest, his head thrown back and his eyes closed.
“Hello, Aydan,” I say after clearing my throat.
His eyes don’t open, but his mouth twitches, which is enough to let me know he’s awake and listening.
“We did it,” I say. “We took down Whitehouse and Hailstone.”
“I’m n-not Aydan,” he growls, still refusing to look at me.
I ignore his comment and continue, “We don’t know if the cure would’ve worked on Elliot, and that’s my fault, I guess. I had to shoot him.” It’s not easy to say it in a cold tone, but I manage. Killing, even killing monsters, will never be easy or something I can casually talk about.
“Either way, the hope is real. IgNiTe cells are already out there, using darts instead of bullets. It’s slow going, but it really is working, especially on the newer Eklyptors which is the majority, anyway. Now it’s just a matter of time. Kristen and the others are still trying to create new formulations, and I have no doubt they’ll get something that works on everyone—not to mention a better way to mass distribute it.” This is wishful thinking on my part, the only hope I have if I can’t help Aydan.
Charger clenches his fists and presses them to his eyes, trembling. “Did y-you come to give me my sh-shot? Or just torture me with your incessant t-talk, bitch?”
“Hey, watch it, asshole,” Clark says.
I put a hand up and mouthed “it’s okay” over my shoulder.
“I’m not talking to you,” I say. “I don’t give a crap about you, as a matter of fact. I’m talking to my friend.”
“He c-can’t hear you. He’s deaf and blind like a mo-mole. You’re wasting your time.” Charger finally opens his eyes and looks at me.
A chill runs down my back as his black eyes connect with mine. They’re Aydan’s eyes, but the essence that flickers behind them is clearly someone else’s.
“Maybe,” I say, “but I know he’s in there and you know it too. And I bet you’re afraid, very afraid. You know it’s possible to come back after being eclipsed. I did it and Aydan will do it too. That’s why I’m here, to welcome him back.”
With one quick jolt, Charger jumps off the table, his bare feet slapping against the linoleum floor. “H-he won’t!” He’s trembling with fury. His lips are pulled back, giving his face a murderous expression. This creature would gladly kill me.
The way Azrael killed Oso.
An idea goes off like a light bulb in my head.
If Aydan is aware the way I was when Azrael took over me, he would never let Charger hurt me. I take a step forward. Clark puts a hand on my shoulder to stop me.
I turn back. “Maybe it’d be better if you wait outside.”
“No way. He’s crazy,” Clark says.
“He’s Aydan.”
Clark looks down and shakes his head.
I lean forward and talk into his ear. “I can help him. I have an idea, but it would work better if it’s just me.”
“Marci, that’s not smart.”
“Please. You know I can take care of myself.”
He purses his lips and lifts an eyebrow in agreement. “Okay, but I’ll be right outside the door.”
“Don’t come in no matter what you hear. I’ll call you if I need you. All right?”
“You got it.” He leaves, but not without giving me a disapproving glance.
I turn around and face Charger again. He’s standing, feet shoulder-width apart. His chest pumps up and down, breaths as loud as an angry bull’s, ready to attack.
“Yep, it’s clear you’re afraid,” I say, extending a hand in his direction to demonstrate. “Crapping your pants from the looks of it. You’re going back and this, in here,” I look around the room, “will be all the life you’ll get to live.”
“NO! N-NO!” he shouts. “Not going back. Never. I’d rather die.” He looks around the room as if trying to find something he could use to harm himself. It makes me glad the room is bare.
I take a step closer, questing forward with my skill, wondering if I’d be able to feel Aydan’s consciousness, the way I felt the poison in James’s veins.
“We care about him and we won’t let you hurt him,” I say, making my tone as conceited as possible, going for what I think will make Charger angrier.
I push further with my skill, searching, sifting through a host of confusing things: a rapid heartbeat, the loud whooshing of blood through veins and arteries, the frantic pumping of lungs. I feel it all, except what I’m looking for.
For a moment, I almost despair thinking he’s not there. Then I realize I don’t even know what to look for. What is a consciousness? It’s not something physical that we can grasp. It’s not a chemical we can observe under a microscope to then decompose into its different elements.
I pull my power away and focus on Charger’s shape. He’s furious, shaking like some sort of machinery ready to implode.
“But maybe you don’t understand that we would go to any lengths to save him.” I step closer still. “No one has ever cared for you, after all. And no one ever will.”
“S-shut up. Shut up!”
“Aydan,” I look straight into his eyes, “keep fighting. You can beat him. He’s always been weaker than you. Come back. We miss you.”
“Shut up, I said.”
When his hand abruptly comes up, I have to force myself to stay put and take it. The slap lands across my cheek, causing my head to snap to one side. Blood pools inside my mouth. I swallow, straighten my shoulders and press forward.
“I know you’re not giving up until you—”
Charger jumps me. He crashes into me, tackles me to the floor and straddles me. “You don’t k-know how to keep y-your trap shut, but I will tea-teach you.”
He wraps his hands around my throat and leans forward, bearing down on me. I buck and pull on his wrists, fighting my panic.
Aydan won’t let him kill me.
Aydan won’t let him kill me.
My lungs begin to burn. “Aydan, help me,” I mouth, my gaze locked with Charger’s own crazed gaze.
“He’s not co-coming. I won’t let him.” Charger squeezes harder.
Aydan won’t let him kill me. He won’t.
I plead with my eyes as I fight for my next breath.
Please, Aydan. Fight. Stop him.
My body tingles, going cold. Images swim in front of me as my vision blurs.
Oh God, I have to fight. Aydan isn’t coming.
He’s not … coming.
With the last of my strength, I pull on Charger’s wrists, trying to pry him away. A bit of air seeps into my lungs, giving me what I need to call for help.
Clark is one plea away, but so is Aydan.
Maybe this one breath is the last chance I’ll get to make it out of this room alive. Maybe it is the last break I’ll ever get. But the truth is that it doesn’t matter. I can’t give up on Aydan. I can’t put myself ahead of him. He’s part of me. So this last breath is for him.
“I love you, Aydan.” The words are but a choked whisper.
Charger’s ferocious expression deepens. He has no regard for my feelings. The grip around my neck grows fiercer, sending a shock through my limbs. My hands fall limp at my sides.
He shakes his head violently as he tries to squeeze the last bit of life out of me.
My eyes roll into the back of my head. The world goes dark around me and everything is suddenly curiously still and numb. I feel nothing, not even the choking pressure around my neck.
Then I’m coughing and gasping for air. My hands fly to my neck. Breaths rasp in and out through my slack mouth.
I’m not dead.
My eyes spring open at the realization. I’m still breathing, and Charger isn’t choking me anymore. Through blurry eyes, I see him, hovering on top of me.
He blinks, looks down at his hands, then at me. His face is twisted in confusion and something like pain.
“Marci,” he says, hands shaking in front of him. “What have I—?”
“Aydan?!”
His black eyes are soft and deep, not sharp and flat as they were just a moment ago.
“Aydan is that you?”
Tears slide down his cheeks. “Oh, God. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry,” he says, his voice so full of pain and guilt that it touches something deep inside of me. Emotions rise from that hidden place and rush through me with merciless violence.
I know just how he feels. His pain was mine the day Azrael spilled Oso’s blood and left it on my hands.
My own tears find their way out. “Aydan, you did it.” I struggle upright, wrap my arms around him and press my face to his chest.
His heart is loud and fast. I feel it like a pounding fist through his shirt. Slowly, his arms find their way around my back. He pulls me close and we both cry.
We cry for each other, for those we’ve loved who are now gone, for a life lost and recovered, for all those who will never be as miserable or as lucky as we are.
We cry because it’s finally over.