Columbine

“You had no business forcing all of this on her.” Valentin’s voice came into focus.

“I didn’t force anything. They just came in and she was there. It was an accident.” Sarah’s voice replied.

I blinked, my vision clearing to show that I was back in my room, in my own bed. The familiar stained ceiling looked down at me with ominous brown colors. I swallowed, grimacing at how dry my mouth was. I looked out the window, surprised that it was getting dark outside. Just how long had I been out?

“What did you think would happen? You didn’t even bother to change your name.” Valentin said somewhere on the other side of the door.

“I didn’t expect them to just ignore the fact that I haven’t practiced in ages!” Sara argued. I rubbed my eyes, forcing myself to sit up. My room swam around me, and I collapsed against the wall. The sound of my head slamming into plaster must have alerted them that I was awake, because a moment later, Valentin and Sarah came running in.

“You’re awake!” Both of them exclaimed, simultaneously crouching at the bedside.

“Yeah…” I said, scratching my head. “Could anyone bring me some water?” I asked. Valentin left to do that, leaving me alone with Sarah. As soon as the door croaked shut, she started to gush.

“I’m so sorry!” She cried. “I didn’t mean for any of this to happen! I didn’t realize that they’d want me dead after all this time! Oh, I am so sorry. How can I make it up to you? I can’t, right? God, I’m terrible! You can hit me if you like.”

I couldn’t get a word in. She just kept spurting new ideas of punishment for me to try. Eventually I gave up and waited for the water I’d asked for. When she shut up, I dared speak.

“Look,” I said, “Ex-witch or not, those Demataxt bastards had no right to come in and try to kill you.”

Her lip quivered, and she burst into tears. At that moment Valentin came in with the water I’d asked for. She forced herself to stop crying when he entered the room. I didn’t blame her. When Valentin showed up, you pretty much had to stop crying. It was one of those unwritten laws.

He handed me the water bottle, which I snatched and drained dry in seconds. I drank the warm water down in huge, greedy, gulps. The disgusting dryness in my mouth was appeased, and I resurfaced from the bottle with a post-orgasmic satisfaction. Both Valentin and Sarah were looking at me as though I’d gone crazy. I let them, not particularly caring what they thought.

“Would you like more?” Valentin asked, cautiously taking the empty bottle from me.

“Nah.” I said, falling against the wall. “What I’d like is an explanation. Just what the hell happened in that shop? I didn’t really get all of it.”

Sarah looked like she was about to start gushing again, but Valentin beat her to the chase.

“From what I understand,” He said, “Sarah has been a practicing witch since she was fifteen. The Demataxt recognized her as a threat and sent two agents to her shop to eliminate her. It was unfortunate that you were present, but there it is.” He stopped and turned to look down at Sarah.

“Did I leave anything out?” He asked her. She shook her head.

I pondered this for a while. When he put it like that, it seemed a lot more like a dream. It even felt more like a dream, given that I’d woken up in my bed. Maybe I could pretend that it had been a dream, and push it deep into my unconscious, where it would hopefully remain forever. One thing I didn’t need to remember was the past morning. It was way too horrific to contemplate on a daily basis.

“Great.” I said, swinging my feet from the bed to the floor. I was still wearing my sweat-drenched T-shirt and shorts, and I still carried the faint but true smell of vomit. Disgusting. “I’m going to take a shower.” I announced.

Not that a shower would keep the sweat at bay for long, but at least it would make the smell of vomit go away. I made my way to the bathroom, turning on the shower. I had to bang on the pipe a few times before refreshingly cold water spurted out of the nozzle. It wasn’t so much a nozzle as a faucet, but a shower was a shower.

I suddenly remembered Scarlett Collins’ underground lab. I’d been too preoccupied to notice it at the time, but it had actually been cool down there. I froze in the midst of applying soap.

If that crazy scientist had discovered a way to make air conditioning without electricity, I had definitely given my blood to the right person. If she could create a cold enough environment, the blood could be stored indefinitely, perfectly preserved in all its musical glory.

I resumed washing, the thought of air conditioning perking me up considerably. I envisioned her lab, and all the smooth, well-lit surfaced that came with her lab. Glow sticks could be bought anywhere, but the ones in her offices hadn’t seemed like something you could purchase for a few coins. They’d kept the building so well lit, it had almost been like real light bulbs!

Had she really discovered something so similar to electricity that it could fool people? Had she risen above all the magic and the power and created something that was hers? Oh, god, I hoped so.

Sometimes magic mimicked electricity and sometimes it cast the illusion of electricity. The problem with me was that I could tell at once. Magic made me either queasy or horribly paranoid. Either way I couldn’t be fooled. The instant gag reflex I had was always enough to make me see through any illusion that the mages had tried to cast.

I let the water run, standing under the stream for a few more minutes. When I’d just barely had enough, I turned it off and stepped out of the shower. I toweled off without looking into the mirror. The last thing I needed was a reminder that I looked dystrophic and that I really needed a haircut.

I put on a fresh set of clothes, and put my hair up in a bun that spiked of its own accord. I was mad at my hair for all of two seconds before I exited the bathroom. The atmosphere was strangely still when I came into the kitchen and found both Sarah and Valentin sitting at the table.

“What’s with the homecoming party?” I asked, feeling very awkward. Valentin shot Sarah a look and she removed herself from the room. You could always trust Valentin to make people shit themselves.

“Talk about harsh…” I mumbled as I walked over to the kitchen. He stood up, which was a clear signal that he was about to say something important. I ignored it, taking out some bread and lettuce. I heard Valentin open a suitcase and instantly knew what his attitude was about. Now that I thought about it, I should have thanked him. But being myself, I disregarded the annoying voice of reason that kept whining at the back of my head.

“I think it would be best if we relocated somewhere safer.” Valentin said. “Scarlett’s offices should be fine.”

“Um…” I grunted through my sandwich, “What about Sarah?” I asked.

“She’s an adult, not to mention a witch. She can take care of herself.” He said. There was no spite in his voice – just that factual tone that irritated me more than anger would have. I put my sandwich down and stood up, suddenly not in the mood for food.

“Now, look here,” I growled, planting my feet firmly to the floor, “She almost died today. She came this close to having her head lopped off. As far as taking care of herself goes, she sucks.”

He didn’t answer. He just continued taking things from their rightful places and shoving them into a bag. I grabbed the empty thermos cup and threw it at him. It bounced off of his head, and his jaw tightened. Slowly, he turned his head toward me.

“I really do not want to leave her out for the wolves.” I strained, exercising an extra pleading note into my voice.

“Is she that important to you?” He asked, clearly beaten. I nodded, clenching my fists as though it might help.

“Is she important enough for you to risk your life?” He asked, sighing.

“I’m already risking my life.” I snapped, sitting back down to my sandwich. “Haven’t you heard? I resisted arrest. In an hour or so, I’ll be a wolf’s head.”

The gravity of the situation weighed more as I said it. It would soon be declared open season on Sarah, registered witch, and Columbine, her alleged familiar. That’s how it would look to the Demataxt, and that was how they would act. I’d only heard horror stories about how they killed traitors, but those alone had given me nightmares.

“Fine.” Valentin finally said. “If it is Sarah’s wish to come, she may.”

“Thanks.” I told him, running off to find Sarah. She hadn’t asked to come with us. I’d sort of felt that she might want to. Hell, I felt sorry for her. She was like some poor little puppy with rabies that no one wanted, and she hated herself for it.

The fact that she, of all people, was a witch didn’t repulse me. Usually I hated witches. Mages had been born power hungry assholes, and witches had become what they were by choice. If anything, it was worse. It might have been like the mage had said. They dream of becoming gods and goddesses and desire power they do not deserve. It was possible that if their number were allowed to grow, they would devour us all. I could only see Sarah becoming a witch to save someone she loved. Yes, that was the only reason. It had to be the only reason.

I found her sitting on the stairs, looking mournfully at her feet. I sat next to her, for once ignoring my distaste for close proximity to others, and actually rubbing sides with her. Her eyes were still shiny and her face was still pinched as though she were about to cry. I patted her shoulder, privately grimacing at the sticky, warm skin.

I’ve always had a problem with touching other people – especially their hands. Even in childhood I’d refused to be touched. I refused to have my hand held while crossing the street or to swim in the kiddie pool with all the other children. I’d always been the emo-looking girl sitting in the shade and staring at the ground while she ripped grass from the dirt. It had caused many people to wonder. Indeed, the only people I knew who didn’t have sticky skin were Valentin and Scarlett. Unfortunately, I hated the former, and the latter scared the shit out of me.

“Hey.” I said in my most soothing voice. “How’s it going?”

Sarah didn’t say anything. Her face pinched harder, and I smelled another sob fest coming. I crossed my fingers and toes in the hopes that Sarah would find some hidden strength that kept her from crying.

“Do you hate me?” She finally sniffled.

“Oh, god no!” I assured her, gently rubbing her shoulder. “In fact I’m about to ask you if you’d like to come with us. We’re relocating to a safer place.” I even cracked a smile. I made every effort to be pleasant. All I got for my trouble was a fresh fountain of tears. In all the time I’d known Sarah, I’d never have pegged her for a crybaby. She was always such a hard-ass that I was shocked to see her so mushy in comparison.

“T-thank you!” She wept. “Thanks so much!”

“So are you coming or not?” I asked, the forced, sweet smile fading unattractively from my face.

“Of course I am!” She sniffled. Then before I could get away, she had thrown her arms around me. I stayed perfectly still, counting the seconds until she let go of me. There were far too many seconds. They were also really slow. I hate too many slow seconds spent in the arms of someone who is blubbering all over you.

This continued for what must have been another minute, but it felt like much longer than that. Every little shudder that went through Sarah’s body sickened me, and I wanted to run away. But I forced myself to stay and wait it out like a good person. I wanted to say this it was all horrendously unfair. I’d been the one who’d almost died today, absolutely powerless unlike some, and yet I was the person being cried to. I ask you, where is the logic?

Later on when I was packing up my things, I realized that I was officially an outlaw. For some reason the first feeling I had was one of deep hurt. It seemed to me as though the world had spat me out of it, regurgitating yet another piece of undesired garbage. After that I had a sense of proud satisfaction. I was also a rebel; a warrior; a glitch in the system. I was a bad ass.

I placed my hands on my hips, looking around me and assessing the objects that were lying around my room. My fingers mindlessly trailed up to the flash drive that hung around my neck. I closed my eyes and recalled a passage from one of the poems I’d written. It had been one of my best. I couldn’t remember much of it now. There’d been loads of other cool things, but I’d forgotten them all. It had been almost four years since I’d last seen the familiar order of documents.

I returned my gaze to the lyrics of all the songs I’d recorded so far and put them in a neat little roll inside a thermos. I placed the thermos at the farthest reaches of the duffel bag, covering it with clothes and shoes. There weren’t very many clothing options in a desert, so everything I owned just barely covered the thermos.

Various artifacts came next; books, glow sticks, matches, shampoo, soap, my toothbrush, and a big-ass tome of Egypt’s history. The tome weighed more than everything else put together.

I zipped up my bag and slung it over my shoulder. Now I had the small issue of the bloodhounds to take care of. I’d kept them in the front yard, carefully setting up a gate in front of the front and back doors so that they couldn’t come inside. Valentin had always had a habit of forgetting to lock those gates.

Now it was time to let the bloodhounds go. Technically they were friendly as long as no one in the vicinity was bleeding. They loved the pants off of Valentin, but hated me. Stupid animals.

I came downstairs to find that everyone else had packed. Even Sarah had found something to put into a little bag that she’d carelessly slung over her shoulder.

“Is everyone ready?” I asked, the question purely rhetorical.

“Yup.” Sarah answered. Valentin said nothing. I took that as a yes.

“Then let’s go.” I commanded. We all sneaked out of the back door, and I pulled Valentin aside for a moment.

“Do you think that you could let the bloodhounds free?” I asked. “There won’t be anyone around to feed them.”

“They’ll get free on their own.” He said. “They’re clever creatures.”

“Clever, my ass. The Demataxt’ll smite them where they stand if they so much as twitch the wrong way.” I huffed.

“Fine.” He sighed. He unlocked one of the little doors of the fence and swung it open. He put two fingers to his lips and whistled. Sure enough, three hulking creatures came running up to him. They started to lick his shoes, crawl up his pant legs, and pant heavily into his hands. Those damn dogs just loved him. I didn’t know if he loved them back or not, and truthfully I didn’t care.

He whispered something and pointed in a vague direction. With a moan of displeasure, the dogs traipsed down the road he’d indicated, not happy to leave their master behind.

“Good job.” I said, briefly showing him my upraised thumb – a more pleasant alternative to my middle finger. He didn’t say anything back. He just picked up the luggage and started to lead the way. I looked behind me, checking that Sarah was still there. She was.

We started to walk. I was still wary of the mages that had attacked me earlier, but the darkness seemed to me like a safe curtain, throwing shadows when they were needed and showing light when something suspicious could be hiding. I crossed my fingers in the hopes that the trip would go uninterrupted.