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The world is bouncing.
From the shadowy ceilings to the entire length of moonlit hallways, everything's bobbing up and down gently, like a boat cradled by rolling foamy waves—-
Up. Down. Up. Down. Up. Down.
And so it goes until the haze in my mind lessens just enough, and I gradually realize it's not the world that's moving...but me.
A man is carrying me in his arms, and the bouncing motion comes from the stairsteps he's treading silently under the cover of darkness.
Up. Down. Up. Down. Up. Down.
His arms are wiry but strong, and the chest I'm leaning against mirrors its traits. If I want to see his face, I'll have to move...but there's this faint whisper inside of my head that warns me against it. I mustn’t let this man know I'm awake. The reason escapes me. I just know it's true.
Up. Down. Up. Down. Up. Down.
It's a struggle just to keep my breathing even, and an even bigger struggle to keep my heart from racing. Tendrils of memories tease my consciousness, but every time I strain myself to get a hold of them, they float away, always just an inch further than what I can reach.
This man who's holding me—-
Something tells me I've already seen his face. The image of it is there. I can practically feel it scratching the back of my mind. I've seen it. I've seen it, dammit. But why can't I remember it? I feel like I'm knocking my head repeatedly against a wall of blankness—-
Knock. KNOCK. KNOOOOOOCK.
But the wall just wouldn't come down.
Even when I give it my all—-
Even when I bang on it with my mental fists and butt-head it until I feel my brain's about to explode—-
The pain is too much, and I'm crying out before I realize what I'm doing.
Up. Down. Up. Do—-
The world stops moving.
He stops moving.
And then I feel myself being lifted up.
Up, up, up—-
Until I'm looking into the bright red eyes of my captor.
A scream of terror threatens to crawl out of my throat, but my lips have only begun to part when everything goes dark...and then I'm spiraling out of my nightmare—-
A dream? It was just a dream?
I crash back into consciousness, and my eyes fly wide open.
A dream? Was it truly a dream?
I shoot up to a sitting position, heart hammering, body shivering and sweating at the same time—-
A dream, I tell myself feverishly.
It's just a dream.
It really is just a dream.
But it's a dream that the past gave birth to—-
Because now I remember.
The man with red eyes who stabbed me—-
It's the same man I remember carrying me in his arms—-
Up. Down. Up. Down. Up. Down.
The same man who laid me down in a pool of blood.
****
KEIA DISCHARGES ME sometime after lunch the next day, but I still find myself killing time in the infirmary's lobby for about half an hour before the detectives finally arrive.
Henry has grey hair and is a heavy smoker while his female colleague, Alice, has her dark locks ruthlessly tied back in a chignon. They ask numerous questions about the man who's stabbed me, and I answer with as much detail as I can without telling them about my dreams. Until I can be completely sure of what I've seen, there's no point telling anyone about it.
The whole thing lasts over an hour, with Alice also doing amazingly quick work as she creates a composite sketch of my attacker, and when we're all done, I'm more than a little stunned at how professional both of them are.
This is far from my first rodeo with police interviews, after all, and the ones who handled my case back in California had been assholes in uniform. I had a nice face, therefore I was a bitch. I was the only one alive in a room full of dead people; ergo, I must've killed all of them.
Henry and Alice, however, are the complete opposites. There were no wisecracks about my past. No snide comments about my face or figure. They simply did their job, period, and my shock over this must've shown on my face because Alice suddenly smiles at me and says, "Professor Lucious told us to take care of you, and so rest assured that's exactly what we're going to do."
My stupid heart skips a beat upon hearing that, but I manage to keep my voice even as I thank the detectives for their assistance.
Nia and the doctor both nag me about the interview, and I see the two girls exchange knowing looks when I get to the bit about the professor.
Hmph.
These two obviously think it's proof that the professor cares for me, and sure, he cares, alright...
But what he only cares about is getting me in his bed because, like it or not, he still thinks I'm an 'intriguing little thing'.
When it's time to finally head back to our suite, I tell Nia I'd like to spend a bit of time in the library, and just like I expected, it's the kind of L-word that scares the other girl the most. She's already profusely shaking her head even before I finish inviting her, and I barely manage to keep a straight face as I wave her off.
I turn to Keia, intending to say goodbye myself, but the older woman forestalls my words by asking if she can speak to me in her consultation room.
"Uh...sure." I follow her inside, and as soon as she closes the door I ask right away, "Am I dying?"
The redhead quickly shakes her head. "No, of course not. Seriously, Halyna. Be a little less pessimistic, will you?"
"I could," I allow, "but it's just not my style."
Keia rolls her eyes. "In any case..." She takes her seat behind her desk and shows me what I can only assume are results from the tests she ran on me. "This was just forwarded to me, and..."
She taps pointedly on the part that says TOXICOLOGY, and I straighten in my seat. "Are you saying I was poisoned?"
––––––––
THE DOCTOR'S LIPS TIGHTEN. "Unfortunately, yes. An inordinate amount of toxins has been detected in your bloodstream, but while the tests are unable to pinpoint how or when such substances have entered your body, the results are pretty conclusive. You have been poisoned, and I'd like to ask if you can think of any possible incident when this may have happened."
"I was drugged that night," I say slowly, "and I was also made to undergo tests. The results revealed traces of opioids, but no one mentioned anything about toxins or poisons."
"I know." Keia's tone is sober. "I remember reading that in your case file."
"My parents took me straight home after...after that night, and I had a fever and an upset stomach for almost a week following it. I told my parents I had a feeling I was poisoned, and they thought the same thing. So we had another round of tests done, but all of the results came back negative, and when the detectives leaked this to the press, everyone decided I had just made myself sick because of guilt."
The doctor mutters a litany of Greek curses under her breath, and it almost makes me smile. For someone with excellent bedside manners like hers, it is kinda funny to see the good doctor being able to cuss like a sailor.
Keia is still fuming when she addresses me again. "The technology that's still in use in the state of California is next to obsolete. It's completely incapable of detecting any substances found outside this world, and that is the reason why your results at that time came back negative." The doctor then grabs her phone, saying, "I should call your parents—-"
"Wait!"
Keia arches a brow at my direction.
"I'm already eighteen, so...if I ask you not to tell my parents, you can't play the minor card with me...right?"
The doctor appears surprised. "Don't you want your parents to know?"
"Not if it's going to hurt them for nothing."
"I suppose I see your point..."
"Then we're in agreement? You won't tell my parents or anyone else? This will just remain between us, right?"
"I'm bound by doctor-patient confidentiality, so I'll have to say yes. This will stay between us, but..." Keia casts a frowning look at my direction. "Please do take extra care from here on. While things always turn out fun and interesting every time you visit, it would be a lot nicer if you were to come here on your own two feet."
I start to tell her she's exaggerating...until I realize the doctor's speaking nothing but the truth.
The professor was carrying me in his arms the first time I came here while yesterday had me coming in on a stretcher. I'm hoping third time won't be the charm in my case, but in today's Post-3rd world...you just never know.
****
THE LIBRARIAN GIVES me a friendly smile of recognition as soon as I walk past the doors, and this time I remember to take note of her name - Ginny with the tortoise-shell glasses - as I walk up to her counter.
"Hello again. Back so soon?"
"It's already been a week," I can't help pointing out, but this only makes the librarian laugh.
"That's twice on a weekend, which is two times more than almost all of Rosethorne's students."
"Guess that makes me a nerd," I say with a shrug. "And speaking of nerdy things..."
Ginny raises a brow. "You need another idiot's guide?"
"I do need a guide," I allow, "but I'm not sure if the kind of book I'm looking for actually exists."
"I'll need a little more information than that in order to help you."
"Let's say I've had my memories magically wiped out..."
Ginny's expression turns sober. "Only the divine can do that."
"I know that, but..." I give her a hopeful look. "Maybe there's some kind of book—-"
She cuts me off with a single word. "No."
"But—-"
Ginny's gaze narrows at me. "You've come across some video or article online that promises to help you undo the outcome of a ritual."
I lift my chin. "I feel like you're judging me—-"
"You have, haven't you?"
Grr.
I hate it when someone sounds so smug...and has the right to sound like it.
The librarian throws her hands up in a gesture of exasperation. "I can't believe you've fallen for those!"
"I haven't!" But of course, I so did.
"Get-magical-quick schemes are called schemes for a reason," Ginny stresses. "They'll tell you everything you want to hear, but at the end of the day all you'll get is fool's gold. What one divine being has done, only another one with divine blood can unravel...and there's no book in this world that can change that."
Shit. Shit. Shit.
"Is there any other thing I can help you with?"
A thought suddenly enters my mind, but I hesitate. When I told Nia I have no plans of finding out who was ultimately responsible for framing me, I had meant it. All I care about is keeping my parents safe and making sure they can lead normal lives again.
But is that really possible if the same man behind all of those murders...just tried killing me again?
"Halyna?"
I slowly shake my head and hear myself say, "Nothing for now." I need more time to figure out what I want to do next, and until then I don't want to make any major moves that could attract unwanted attention.
I say goodbye to Ginny soon after that, and when I get back to the suite, I find Nia's note magnet-taped to our cute little refrigerator, telling me that she went out to take photos. I've actually only discovered that part of my roommate a few days ago, and it's something I find really cute. Nia the tough cookie...also happens to be hiding the heart of a sensitive artist. Who would've imagined, right?
I try to get more reading done, but my thoughts keep circling back to the man with red eyes.
Henry told me earlier that the security cameras in the club had been destroyed, most likely by the same man who's stabbed me. Henry also said having a BOLO issued against the man would help speed things up, but for that to happen—-
I need to remember more, but in order to do that—-
(Oh god)
Terror comes out of nowhere to strangle me, and I find myself suddenly struggling not to choke and panic.
(Oh god, help me)
I'm not sure how I got here.
I just know I'm trapped once again in a nightmare where my world is bouncing—-
Up. Down. Up. Down. Up. Down.
This can't be real.
(But it is)
This can't be happening.
(But it is)
Invisible fingers of fear are still wrapped around my throat, and I feel them tightening the moment I realize the arms holding me have started to lift me up, up, up—-
(Oh god, no)
I don't want to see those eyes again.
(Help me, god, help me)
The urge to scream and cry burns inside of me, but because I know I might as well kill myself the moment I make a sound—-
(Please, god, please)
But it's too late.
There's no longer any reason to stay silent. He's already looking at me with his red, red eyes—-
Eyes that are windows to nothing—-
Because he's soulless.
I jump out of his arms, and my knee hits the edge of a stairstep.
The pain is vicious, and a choking gasp rattles out of my throat as I roll and tumble down the steps. I'm not sure how long or how far I've fallen.
All I know is that it's not long or far enough.
Because already I'm back in my cage, the man with red eyes catching up to me with such ease I'm almost tempted to believe there's no point of escaping. His wiry arms are now holding on to me more tightly than ever, and the moment the world starts bouncing again—-
Up. Down. Up. Down. Up. Down.
(No, god, no)
I don't want to go back to that room where all those dead bodies are. I don't want to wake up in a pool of blood. Don't want to relive that one moment where I believe what everyone's saying about me, and I want to kill myself just like I've supposedly killed everyone else.
I squeeze my eyes shut, and memories come pouring in.
So many memories of his faceless presence—-
So many memories of the heat of his embrace and the warmth of his words—-
(I need you, god, please)
A strong, howling gust of wind blows into my unconscious like a tornado that rips my nightmare apart, and my lips part in a soundless gasp as the world stops bouncing—-
But instead of seeing those red eyes again, I feel myself starting to fall fast and hard.
Until it feels like my soul has crashed back down into my body.
I gasp as I wake up—-
I'm back in my chair. I'm back in my suite. But not everything's the same.
Because the wind I heard in my nightmare—-
It's here.
Howling the same way it did.
Making my windows explode into pieces the way it destroyed a bouncing world of shadows.
That wind which saved me from my nightmare—-
Has now taken the form of a beast with snow-white fur and eyes of gold and blue.
I stare at it in shock even as a memory drifts into my mind.
I remember asking Nia if it was possible for me to summon a god whose name I didn't know, and I also remember my roommate sharing with me the passage from an old, old book.
Cling to your memories as if they were its divine name, and your god shall hear your call.
Cling as hard as you can, and if the divine chooses to answer your summon—-
Know that this comes with a price, for from that point on your god shall also be your master.
The words didn't make sense the first time I read them.
But now they do.
And the words are as perfectly clear as the taut lines of strain etched on the leonine features of the beast. So perfectly clear that I can feel its grimness as the god's soundless voice penetrates my mind—-
What have you done?