Jess burrowed herself under several blankets and waited for the arrival of her nursemaid. Fever made her body ache, and memories of the last time she felt so lousy surfaced to haunt her. It was a month after her dad passed. She ended up with a nasty case of strep throat, a gift from Jordan, who insisted they share everything. Her mom gave up her bed, and took care of them for days in a way only a mother could. When she wasn’t bringing them medicine or cooking something, they could eat through a straw; she sat in the bed waiting and brought them comfort with her presence.
Jess lay missing her mother when Vi bounced through the door, her emerald eyes aglow with the knowledge Jess relied on her. She pulled a bottle of Tylenol from a plastic grocery bag hanging from her arm and thrust it at Jess.
“Honey, what did you do to yourself? You look awful.”
“It kills me that while I’m dying, you can only think about my messy hair and lack of make-up.” Jess swallowed the Tylenol.
“Sorry, just appears you weren’t alone. I know you didn’t cook, so who dirtied these pots?” One hand was glued to Vi’s hip, and the other held a pan that she lifted as evidence.
“Oh shut up, I slept last night. And Justin…”
“Ah, Justin. I knew it.” Vi bit her lip, a twinkle lighting her eyes.
“You’re twisting things, don’t get excited. He slept in a chair in my room. I think.” Jess crossed her heart with one finger as her raspy voice disappeared.
“The hottest guy in New Orleans stayed at your apartment, and you slept? You are sick.” Vi laughed and shoved a thermometer into Jess’ mouth. “One oh two, you must be miserable.”
“I am.” Jess pushed her bottom lip out looking to gain sympathy.
Vi pulled ingredients from her bag and soon a pot of soup bubbled on the stovetop. Jess was content to let Vi fuss over her. She flipped through channels on TV as Vi busied herself around the apartment.
“I can’t stay. I have family in town, and I have to be social. Will you be okay?”
Why was Vi lying? She had no family, or at least, that’s what she’d said when they were at the beach. It stung a little that her friend would feel she had to be anything, but truthful, but Jess sighed, unwilling to argue the point. She had already taken advantage of Vi enough, anyway.
“Yes. Justin will be back later.”
“Alright, call me if you need anything. I can be here lickity-split.” She winked and grabbed her purse. Then, as though she couldn’t leave without one last gesture of her love for Jess, she went back in the kitchen and returned with a glass of tea.
Jess watched the door close behind Vi and felt the solitude immediately. She needed to sleep; besides Justin would come back soon enough. Her head pounded as she fluffed her pillow then fell into it, hoping she could rest. For an hour, she drifted in and out of consciousness. When her fever broke, sweat made her t-shirt stick to her chest, and she kicked her blanket to the floor.
The air thickened around her, and Jess felt the weight of someone near her. In her feverish state, she wasn’t sure if the heaviness she felt was in fact, another person, or just her body torturing her. She allowed a crack in her eyelids, so she could see if Justin had returned.
At first, she thought the occupant of the overstuffed chair was a mirage. A form moved in the haze of her vision, as though it were trying to get comfortable. She wasn’t intimidated; because she was sure the vision would vaporize. Justin! She smiled, but then realized something wasn’t quite right. The figure was shorter, smaller, and didn’t move the way Justin did. It must have been the fever still plaguing her. The apparition sat quietly, and she decided she was indeed hallucinating. Seconds passed, and she allowed her eyes to stay heavy never fully opening. Was it Dawson?
He sat immobile, his eyes trained on her. After several minutes, his head turned as he looked her over. Fear paralyzed her. Unable to move, she feigned sleep. Jess tried to slow her heartbeat. This was not imagery from her mind, but a bona fide threat.
He shifted crossing one leg over the other, an unlit cigarette dangling from his lips. His head rested on the back of the chair, cocked to one side, so he could observe her. He wore blue jeans, a blue button-down shirt, and dirty boots. There was no evidence that he’d been caught in the rain. His shirt was crisp and his blue jeans dry.
When his hand moved to nudge his bangs from his eyes, Jess realized Dawson hadn’t pasted his Mohawk into spikes tonight. Her heart seized in her chest, squeezing off the air from her lungs. She pressed her lids together, hoping he would buy her ruse and leave. His dark eyes flashed in her mind, and she couldn’t interpret the intent they held. She allowed the small opening back in her lids and silently called for Justin and Jordan.
“Jess, I know you’re awake.” The visitor leaned forward and rested his elbows on his knees. His voice was a whisper, as though he wasn’t quite sure.
Jess didn’t move. If she was unaware of his presence, then he was still free to go.
“Get up and talk to me. Stop playing opossum, sweetheart.”
Justin called her sweetheart but from this man’s lips, the name sounded vile. She peeked again and watched him lean back waiting for her to obey his command. Jess slowly opened her eyes, still convinced she was in the throes of a nightmare. The fire in her throat no longer burned. The warmth of her fever was nonexistent, and all of her thoughts were drowned out by the sound of blood rushing in her ears. If Dawson was with her, she was in trouble, and her illness would have to wait. Hurry Justin, she begged with her mind.
“What’re you doing here?” The courage to speak did not come easy. Dawson slid to the couch and held her feet rubbing them.
“I just want to talk. Can we talk?” His voice dropped several octaves, and he bit his bottom lip. His eyes betrayed his attempt at innocence. Jess wasn’t sure how she knew, but evil lived inside them; evil and little else.
“Okay. Okay, let’s talk.” She stuttered betraying her calm expression.
Dawson ran his hand up her leg letting it rest on her knee. “What’re you hanging out with Justin for? He’s beneath you.”
Mechanically, Jess drew her knees to her chest. “What makes you believe I care what you think?”
His stare was intense, his eyes heavy, dark, and when she tried to break his gaze, it drew her back in and locked her in the moment. Light didn’t reflect off his eyes and for some reason, she was certain he had no soul. Dawson was magnificent in his own way, evil and mysterious. He struck her as pained by some past of which he hadn’t let go. Everything about him was too perfect; the shape of his lips, the length of his eyelashes, but like his shallow words, there was no depth to him. It upset her in the most bizarre way to look at him. He was Justin’s antithesis.
“Tell me love, what is it that fascinates you about him? He’s one gigantic lie wrapped in the angst of a teenage boy. Nothing about him is true. Can’t you see that?” He waited for her to answer, but Jess couldn’t speak. Her words were stuck in her throat as she contemplated his implications. She wanted to scream but couldn't. What about you? she wanted to ask. No words came out.
Dawson leaned into her sucking the air from the room and into his lungs. Jess was overwhelmed by him, and the emptiness in which he had imprisoned her. His fingers wound through her hair, paralyzing her. “I can give you things he can’t. I can make you happy if you come with me.” He hissed the words as he moved closer, sliding his arm around the back of the sofa.
She could see in the darkness of his eyes, he wanted to inflict pain in a way she would always remember, and he’d take pleasure in the task. He pushed his nose into her hair, and Jess wanted to crawl out of her skin and run. She couldn’t move just yet. He'd catch her. She had to wait for a moment which would allow her to put distance between them. She watched him intently for the opportunity.
“Why? Why is he a lie? Why do you hate him?” Jess bided her time, completely uninterested in his answer.
His laugh chilled the air and her breath became a cloudy fog in a room that was too warm to warrant the change. “Justin wouldn’t want you to know. You are so innocent, and he loves that about you.”
Dawson trailed one finger along her arm. His touch left an invisible trail of filth. As a child, she had once held a garter snake that oozed a repulsive musk. It took days to wash the stench from her hands. The feel of his fingertips made her think of the snake, and she wondered if she could ever wash him away. Anger crept back in, pushing whatever fear she felt away. She had to fight the urge to settle the score between him and Justin.
“And you suddenly care what Justin thinks?”
He touched her neck, running his finger along the base, causing her heart to lose its rhythm. “You smell like fear.” His whisper was a hiss that yanked at her most primal fears.
Jess tried to scoot away, but she was on the far side of the couch with nowhere to go.
“Fear. It's lovely. I didn’t mean to offend you.” He leaned in and put his lips on the artery that threatened to explode in her throat.
That was her moment, her heart pounded and she glared at him placing both hands on his granite chest. She pushed with all she could muster and he grabbed her wrists.
“Stop.” The command thundered into her head. She had no idea if he'd spoken it or simply thought it in her direction.
She twisted and kicked trying to land a shot on his chest, or face, hoping to stun him, but her attempts made him laugh.
“Jess stop. You can’t move me. You’re only gonna hurt yourself.” He smiled and blocked her flailing legs and arms. "And where's the fun in that?"
His endeavor to sound sincere grated on her nerves. But she couldn’t let him win. She turned to face him and laughed, refusing to give up her life or joy to the person invading her home and personal space.
“No wonder he likes you.” Dawson grabbed her arms pinning her to the couch. Jess wiggled and twisted under him, in an attempt to set herself free. When struggling didn’t help her plight, she spat into his face. He used one hand to wipe his face as he held her still with the other hand planted firmly on her chest. He reached between her legs, his face drawn in frustration as she fought him to flee, and rubbed her thigh. His cold palm pressed against her leg as his fingers ventured to the hem of her shorts. There was no time to panic or think about the invasion she was being subjected to, and she refused to surrender.
Jess bucked, in fear of his next move, to force him off of her. Dawson pressed his mouth to hers, so she bit the tender flesh of his bottom lip. Blood trickled from his face and landed on hers. The blood wasn’t at all what she expected. It was cold and dense. Apparently stunned, he rocked back and touched his lip.
"You shouldn't have done that." He used his fingers to smear it across her lips and nose.
Jess managed to get her legs over the edge of the sofa and jumped to her feet. She was halfway to the kitchen when he slammed into her back with the force of a linebacker. He let her lie on the floor breathing in the dust for several seconds and then flipped her over with little effort. A wide grin stretched across his face as he straddled her. He planted his knees on the cypress floor and let his weight fall on her abdomen.
"You really shouldn't have done that." Fury no longer contorted his features. He looked elated like she challenged him solely to provide entertainment. “Jess, he’s not here. You’re mine. Mr. Perfect dropped the ball.”
She yelled an obscenity. “I’ll never be yours. You lunatic.” Jess ignored the throbbing in her back and legs as his smugness disappeared.
She refused to look at him any longer, turning her head to stare at the door. He could take advantage of her weakness, force her to do a lot of things, but he couldn’t make her witness the brutality that flashed in his eyes. Then he grabbed and squeezed the bones in her jaw until she thought they would explode.
“How’s your head, Jess? How about those scratches? You healing alright?” He yanked her arm from the floor and studied it with considerable interest.
“You did that?” She injected contempt into her voice.
“Did I say that? Wow, you’re feisty. No wonder he’s fascinated.”
His bulk smothered her. He was heavier than he looked and he crushed her legs with the weight. She would not go down easily. Anger rose and she let out a primal scream. “What do you want from me?” She balled her hands into fists and pounded his chest.
Once again, her struggles had no effect; in fact, he laughed, her resistance appearing to give him pleasure. He let her tirade go on for several minutes, until he tired of the display, and flung her across the floor.
The impact resonated in her skull. The room went black for several heartbeats, but then she was back, and Dawson was closer, pushing his thumb into the nook of her throat. He pressed just hard enough to strangle her. “Settle down Jess. I don’t want to kill you. Not yet, anyway.”
Tears streamed from her eyes and dripped to the floor. She hadn’t wanted him to see her falter, and she was incensed by her weakness. She writhed against his touch saliva gurgling in her throat.
“Jess, stop!” He drove his thumb further into her throat, seemingly amused by her battle to stay conscious. He squeezed harder taking her to the brink of awareness.
She was only one heartbeat from giving in, and it took enormous commitment to draw in another breath. She should let go. At least if she was dead, she wouldn’t feel anything he did to her anymore.
The thoughts weren’t even fully formed and he appeared.
“Do you really want to do this now?” Justin's voice was loud yet calm.
Dawson’s grip loosened abruptly.
Jess cried out as blood flow returned to her brain. She gulped in a lungful of air and tears came without permission simply because she was safe. She closed her eyes and inhaled the sweetest breath that ever entered her body.
Dawson laughed manically, but she heard the fracture in his cool. “Good timing, friend. Jess and I were just getting to know each other.” Dawson backed away from her and ambled towards the back door.
Jess coughed, still unable to swallow without choking. She moved to her knees and waited for her strength to return. “Yeah, you couldn’t have joined us sooner?” She smiled as she delivered the sarcasm, but when she gazed upon him the world fell from its axis.
Her heart reacted to him, but her head could not grasp the image. He’s real you're awake, she repeated forcing the thoughts into her brain as she sat back on her heels mouth agape.
His skin was an indescribable shade of ivory, and every vein made an appearance at the surface pumping hard enough to reveal the life force that flowed within them. The black jeans and t-shirt he had been wearing when he left were the same, but all else had changed. His muscles were carved into his body, and the tension in them gave him the appearance of a granite statue. His lips were red. His cheeks without color and flames of cobalt danced within his irises.
Fury coursed through him, evident it seemed to everyone but him. From behind his perfect physique arched a wingspan of at least eight feet – majestic black wings with thousands of perfectly formed feathers. He stood frozen, his eyes upon Dawson, as though he had failed to recognize her situated on the floor at his feet. For the second time since Dawson invaded her apartment, Jess was sure she was going to die.
Her response was slow at first. Unable to find an explanation for what she had seen, she found her feet and stumbled for the opened door. She had to get out of there. Lifetimes seemed to pass as she moved past Dawson and planted her hand against the drywall. Adrenaline took over her movements improving her ability to run.
Dawson chuckled, again. “You idiot, she saw you.”
She heard Justin call her name.
Jess didn’t stay long enough to hear the rest of their exchange. She sprinted through the courtyard and into the street. At the corner, she curved through an alley and raced for Canal Street. She could feel him behind her, the weight of his presence hanging on her like she was anchored to him. He was on her heels, impeding her progress.
The whirr of her breath, the thud of his boots on the concrete, it would all cause her head to split, but she couldn’t stop. She pushed through crowds and knocked over an artist’s easel. As she passed cafés, she toppled chairs and displaced signs that served as obstacles between her and freedom. Tears flowed at a fierce pace, yet she charged forward with as much power and speed as she could muster. Her breath was fire inside her, and she was locked in a brawl with her body.
“Jess, please stop. Talk to me. You don’t understand. Humans don’t see me that way.” Justin called to her again and again, but she couldn’t quit. She felt his fingers graze the back of her arm, so she pushed forward, until she collapsed on a bench heaving. Her legs burned and sweat mixed with her tears, blurring her vision.
“Stay away from me.” She held her hand up attempting to scream the warning, but her words were almost inaudible.
Justin stood before her, once again the man he had been when he left her apartment. He was beautiful, but just a man.
“Please, let me explain.”
“Explain? I don’t…who are you?” She looked him up and down. "What are you?" Jess sprang to her feet and headed back up the street. She had nowhere to go but her apartment. She only hoped Dawson was gone.
“Jess, I would never hurt you.” He didn’t move to give chase, and she let out a breath, relieved.