The Border of Light, Five

The sleek black car pulled up in front of my house. I reached for the handle and froze. The lights were on, and I hadn’t even started thinking up an excuse for being gone all night.

“Miss?” the driver said, drawing my eyes to the front seat. It wasn't like he said it harshly, but there was a cold detachment in his voice and accusation to his eyes as they met mine in the rear view mirror. So I had chosen not to get involved, what right did he have to judge me?

I looked away, pulling at the handle with a frown. As soon as I scampered out of the car, he drove off, speeding around the corner. And good riddance, through my heart sank once more when I turned to face the front door. I could do this, I told myself, there wasn't a more masterful liar than me out there.

With certain resistance in my legs I approached, stopping yet again at the threshold. What did it matter anyway? It wasn’t like I could stay for long. With a deep breath I pried the door open.

I could hear the murmurs still as I removed my shoes. A chair creaked as someone stood up, steps carrying the shape of my father to the frame of the living room door. He was still in his suit, gazing at me with wide, tired eyes.

“Where the hell have you been?” he said, the disbelief frozen on his face. “Your mother and I have been worried sick.” He was calm, though I could already note the colour build up in his cheeks.

I heard the familiar squeak of cushions as my mother shifted on the couch until she came into view from the crack of the door. Silently she dropped to the floor and approached the door, eyes wide. I could tell she had been crying by their red puffiness.

"I'm sorry, I-" My excuse was cut short when she stalked for me pulling me into a tight hug.

Time seemed to freeze as she squeezed me and I was surprised I didn't turn blue by the time she let go. "I was so worried." she said in a sigh that had a tinge of subtle anger.

"You better have a damn good explanation." my father added from behind, brow furrowed.

"I do." I promised, not liking the waver in my voice one bit.

He crossed arms over his chest. "I'm listening."

“Oh, sweetie.” My mother ran her eyes over my dirtied clothes. “What happened?”

“I… I kinda fell.” I said. And well, it was partially true. Thank Clare, she had left a few scrapes and bruises intact too. “I’m fine.” I said. “I kinda hurt my ankle a bit.” I lied, feigning a wince. “I’m sorry,” I said again mostly to gain enough time to gather my thoughts. “Just the alarm went on, and then everyone was rushing, and the heels, I slipped, and… then the firemen, they wouldn’t let me go before I saw a medic, but there were all the people and all the questions, and…” the words came out in a torrent of mostly incoherent information. And I had to wait, and it dragged for hours, and my father was gone, and someone loaned me money for the night bus, but it took an hour for it to come, and all the most generic nonsense I could think of from the top of my head.

“Why didn’t you have your phone on you.” He said though his voice was now softer. “How many times have I told you to have your phone with you. Heck you could have asked someone to let you use theirs.”

“I’m sorry,” I uttered, eyes downcast, “I’m really sorry. Just all those people, and the sirens, and-”

“It’s all right honey,” my mum pulled me in another hug, “let’s all get some rest and we’ll talk about this later.” I traced her eyes to my father who nodded, expressionless. At least he looked more relaxed now, his shoulders slumped and face communicating fatigue rather than anger.

Sunlight paled on the horizon when I finally got to my room after the mandatory cup of hot chocolate and cool shower. I gave my bed a single glance on the way to the windows, I wasn’t tired, and more nasty dreams were the last thing I needed. The faint glow of the sun slowly crept up to the very roofs of the houses and the tops of the trees across, growing brighter with each moment until the leaves illuminated in all the colours of the autumn. A small sigh escaped me as I pulled the curtain over the glass. I wasn’t tired, but light stung my eyes.

The computer was silent on the desk next to the scattered brushes by the unfinished painting. It was a simple, sketchbook project and I had to turn it in on Monday, but drawing was the last thing on my mind right now.

I slumped into the rotating chair making no moves for the PC either. It was quiet now, too quiet as my parents had gone to bed earlier. I span once, twice, and then stopped to dissolve into the silence for a short moment. Why couldn’t I just to melt into the nothingness that had suddenly befallen my mind. I still couldn’t believe it, none of it, and even though the memories played fresh in my mind I was more than willing to dismiss them as a dream, or even insanity.

For insanity it was, and soon it would get even worse, if I knew my people well. I had to leave, there was no other way out.

I rose from the chair taking a few soundless steps to the closet. It opened with a creak and I ran my eyes over the clothes piled or hung inside. I would need something for cold days, and then something for hot, and maybe something in between. And shoes. I would need rain shoes, and running shoes, and a change if they got yet. And what the hell was I doing? My hand fell from the handle, all strength leaving my body as I crept back and into the chair across.

My mother’s red eyes emerged in my mind. Would she cry if I just up and left without a word? Would they look for me? When would they give up? And was I ready to do that to them? Then what excuse was I to make for leaving? Why wouldn’t my genius brain think of a single way out of this that didn’t end up in tears or institutionalization.

It had been so much easier back in the day. No questions asked, you just picked up your satchel and went on your way. You could go anywhere your eyes led you, food wasn't a problem, money didn't exist. What the hell was I going to do about money? And an ID, I probably needed an ID. Could I even leave the country? Or did I have to stay inside the borders? Why did things have to be so damn complicated?

Hands burying in my hair, I thought, and thought, and thought about it, and I couldn’t come up with anything. Perhaps it was better to stay. Ward off intruders. Protect what little roots and security I had.

A few days, I decided, I would give myself a few days to think things over. A few days couldn’t hurt, could they? And yet a day later, I was still threading on the same ground as I tried to finish up the assigned water colour painting. I had been at it since I woke up, making little to no progress for the few early hours of morning. As expected.

The sound of the doorbell dinged through the house. I wrinkled the nose to balance the brush, yet no one seemed to answer it when it rang again. Sighting I slapped the painting tool onto the desk and strolled for the door.

"I'll get it!" I called on my way downstairs and the shadow of my mother retreat back into the living room. She was working too, on an article also due Monday.

The doorbell rang yet again. Impatient much?

In a few broad steps I crossed the last of the distance, yanking the front door open. I felt my face blanch when I saw her casually leaning against the door frame. She had reached for the bell once more, hand hesitating and then retreating when her eyes met mine. Her unnaturally green gaze studied me, intensely, as she batted her long, thickly layered with mascara, eyelashes my way.

"May we talk." she spoke with that silky voice of hers.

And it wasn't a question.

I hesitated for a moment, but deeming it unwise to slam the door in her face, silently moved aside. She pushed herself off the frame and with a few low clacks of her heels crossed the threshold.

“Come on in.” I muttered as she bent to unzip a boot. They were black, and shiny, with a heel too thin for any sound person to wear. She set them straight, along the wall and rose to give the hallway a once over and still silent, I let the door close shut behind us.

“Nice place.” she said.

I passed her by, halting at the corner to make sure she followed me to the kitchen. Her eyes met mine once more. She had taken off her leather jacket, gaze slipping to the wall rack.

“Go ahead.” I uttered and then waited for her to hang it before she finally followed.

"Who was it?" I heard my mother ask from the living room.

"No one." I yelled back. "Someone I know." I corrected myself when the woman flashed me a poisonous look.

"The coffee’s on the top shelf!" came in answer and my brow furrowed. I knew it was on the top shelf, it was always on the top shelf.

The walk down the hall was a journey, the hairs standing on the back of my neck for I could feel her stare on me. It felt better in the kitchen, wider, brighter, and the gentle light streaming through the open white curtains brought at least the illusion of safety.

"Make yourself at home." I muttered, leaving her by the table as I headed for the kettle. The scrape of wood against wood told me she had picked a chair, my father’s I saw when I turned for the cupboard.

"Coffee?" I said with forced hospitality, eyes locked on the top of the cupboard. "We only have instant." I added holding her dark shape in the periphery of my vision. "We also have tea." I added sneaking a peek at the much lower shelf holding the teas.

"Coffee sounds good." she said coolly and flipped a lock of long black hair over shoulder. Her legs were crossed now, surprising, judging by the tightness of her black jeans.

I looked back up at the coffee jar high out of my reach. A frown came to my brow, though I was rather glad that the cupboard door hid my pitiful expression from her. I reached out, stretching on my toes, but it was still few centimetres off. I reached out my fingers grazing it slightly but just enough to push it further in. Holding back a curse I stretched out again, this time adding a small hop. The jar span to the edge and tipped over falling right in my hands. Nice save, I thought, letting a small breath slip me.

She was still watching me when I closed the door and fighting the stiffness of my fingers I continued as if nothing had happened. I filled the kettle and then waited for it to boil under the heavy silence and the two expressionless emerald gazing through me.

Why was she here anyway?

The soft click of the kettle urged me into motion. Picking out two identical dark blue cups, I added two spoons of instant coffee in one, a bag of tea in the other and then filled them in to the exact same level. Her eyes, of course, followed my every motion, and I leaned in, pretending to reach for the cookies, so that I could slip out of her sight even if for a moment. When I came back up, she was looking at the window instead and my breath finally came freely.

I laid a few cookies out on a small plate and headed her way, deeming it wiser to bring the cups second. Her gaze came back to me and I almost jumped though managed to leave the plate and turn on a heel without wavering. I was ready when I returned, meeting her eyes as I placed the coffee before her, and then walking around and to my spot with my own cup.

She leaned in, on her elbows, feet crossing at the ankles. It looked as if she was about to say something, but instead she reached out to slide the cup closer to her.

My eyes came to pendant around her neck. Its oval, deep green stone glinted into the sunlight, though it felt as if it consumed all light about it instead. Damn, I had almost hoped The Heart of Shadows had changed hands.

She brought the cup to her lips, never taking a sip as she lowered it back down. I could note a wrinkle to her brow. So she wasn’t used to cheap coffee, was she? Taking a long sniff of my Earl Grey I stared at her, waiting as she reached for the sugar on her left and proceeded to add a spoonful into her coffee. Perhaps I should have asked if she wanted milk, I thought as she scooped another. And then she stirred, slowly, gracefully, pulling the spoon out in the end and tapping it without a sound on the edge of the cup. Her eyes scanned the table before she reluctantly put the spoon down.

"You are making a mistake." she finally spoke and I shuddered at the flatness of her tone. "Don't get me wrong," she said her eyes stopping me before I could speak, "I'm not here to make you change your mind. I just want to talk about your choices... and their consequences." Not breaking eye contact she finally took a sip of her coffee.

I shifted in my seat. "I know what I’m doing."

"Do you?"

"Yes-"

She raised a single brow up. "Then you won't mind me pointing it out."

My lips pressed tight. "I'm not changing my mind."

"That's fine by me. But I still feel obliged to make sure you understand the situation." she said and for a moment her eyes dropped to the cup to spin it so the handle was pointed at the exact desirable angle. "Something happened," she began, "exactly when the war was at its peak, we lost our powers." she said her eyes down as she fumbled with the spoon, unable to pose it the way she wanted.

"Somewhere in the panic that followed, the war was forgotten." She finally left the spoon alone and her eyes lifted to pierce me. "But the antagonism remained." she said her voice making a chill run down my spine. Or was it her stare with its unspoken critique.

She didn't like me, she never had, which brought the question again:

"Why are you here?"

"So much time passed,” she continued, ignoring my question, “that our very existence was forgotten by those who came after." Her eyes never left me. "But we did remember, lifetime after lifetime, we still remember." Her gaze trailed to the ceiling and then down the white curtain. "Some willed themselves into forgetting, true," she took a sip, "but most remember." She paused, studying my expression. I kept it bland, empty, and I wondered what she did see in it when the corner of her lips quirked. "And most, remember the hatred," she continued, "even those who forgot the reasons behind it."

"Is this going somewhere?"

"Now. Thousands of years later. Something happened. Again." she said, ignoring me once more. "The powers are back, not at their fullest, not yet, but they are coming back. Soon there will be a whole new demographic able to raise and shatter mountains at will. How do you think that will affect the geography?" She arched a brow, but it was obvious she didn't expect an answer. "You have an year, maximum two, before someone slips up." she said. "Then we will have the whole world watching and shaking as we take our worst skeletons out of the closet." Her voice was calm, but far from soothing. There was an edge to it, a hint of a threat, so subtle, so insignificant and yet so sharp. "The clans will make it, somehow. They’re strong. But you... are alone," she said and I frowned, "no Council to clean up your mess, no Guardians to watch your back." With a careful twirl of her long pale finger she spun the cup around. The black nail polish blended almost perfectly with the dark porcelain.

Leaning back I crossed arms over my chest. "You wanted me out, I was driven out, why are you doing this now?"

She studied me with a careful gaze. "You were careless, you still are by the looks of it. Irrational and unpredictable. Too emotional. You lack control of both yourself and your powers. And for all the flaws not a single redeeming quality. I did not think you were fit for it, I still don't-"

"But?"

"But there is one thing that has changed since then." Her green eyes bore into me with intensity that almost made my head spin. "You have something very few do these days," I waited for her to continue, "knowledge." she said as if whispering in the ear of a lover and I shuddered. "Knowledge is power," she continued, "back then very few clans..." her eyes travelled to the window again. "Very few people," she corrected herself, "cared to gather more information than they had to. And what you have is not limited to history." her voice trailed off as she took in my glare. Her answer to it was a daring close-lipped smile. "It's a valuable skill," she said, "for now." she held my gaze as the smile turned malicious. "It's a shame you won't put it to use while you still have the chance. If it were me I'd even put a price on it." she said tracing a finger along the surface of her cup. "You can demand anything you want and they can't say no." she added suggestively as she brought the coffee to her.

"Well, I'm not like you." I said darkly.

"And it's a pity." She was smiling again, but her eyes were colder than a winter's night.

"You blamed me for selling information." I said, my voice low though I could feel my ears flaming. "What's the guarantee that if I tell you anything, you won't stick me with betrayal the moment someone turns out to know the same thing? I'm not playing this game." I said almost choking on the last part. "Besides," I added sourly before she could voice the threat in her eyes, "what I want, they will never give me."

The danger on her face shifted into amusement. "Oh? And what is that."

I flashed her an ugly look. "You know very well."

"Don’t worry," she said after a moment, "I realize now, that someone like you wouldn’t even conceive of selling information."

I didn’t know if I should take that as a mockery or a compliment. "That's called being loyal." I said, shifting the crossing of my legs.

She mirrored me. "I would think of something else to call it." she lifted the dark blue cup and gazed at the reflection in its shiny surface adding nothing more.

“What would that be?” I questioned, my voice more daring than my bravery.

"True loyalty doesn't exist," she said putting the cup down, "people stick by for only as long as their interests overlap. When they have nothing else to gain from each other, they walk away." A small smile came to her lips. “And you have much to gain.”

She closed her eyes for a moment, taking a deep yet subtle breath. "Ordinary," she said as they snapped open, "both powerless. They have no idea what's going on, do they?"

"Leave them out of this." I said and she smiled.

"I am, but are you?" She raised a brow in question. "This attachment you have to your birth parents,” she said, “it’s cute. Though I guess they are the closest you have to a clan right now so it’s understandable.” All blood had frozen in my veins, and she was lucky I was petrified by her Medusa gaze, else I’d spring up to strangle her.

"What do you think they will do when they realize their spawn is... different?" she continued, raising both brows dramatically. "Humans are weird that way, they don't like those different, or stronger than them."

"Unlike you,” I paused, “us, I suppose."

She shrugged. "It's in our nature, we feel threatened by what we can't match."

"So you try to destroy it."

"We try to contain it." she corrected me.

"And it turned out great, didn't it?"

Her lips curved into a smile. "Now you’re getting it."

I heaved a sigh. "What do you want from me?"

Her expression turned innocently blank as she fell back to lean in the chair. "Nothing. I'm just making sure you’re aware of the consequences of your actions. I owe you this much for... my jumping to conclusions in the past." she said and I frowned.

Whatever she had intended to say next was cut off by my father when entered the kitchen. He halted a few solid steps in, his eyes trailing to me and then stopping at her. He was in his sweats, his greying brown hair unkempt and face unshaven.

"I'm sorry, I didn't know you had company." he said visibly uncomfortable though his voice never wavered.

"Melanie." she said and straightening, stretched her hand for him to shake. He did, professionally, and then proceeded inside the kitchen with confidence.

"So where do you know each other from?" he said fumbling around the cupboard for a cup.

"School." she dragged out, her voice almost seductive but I refused to feel annoyed. I knew that was exactly what she was trying to do.

His motions wavered. "So you are an artist?"

"An exceptional... artist." she said with an alluring smile.

He poured himself a cup of coffee and tasted it, showing no reaction to her words.

"Well then girls," he said with a charming smile, "enjoy your afternoon." With that he slipped out the kitchen.

Her lips still held a smile and I glared, hoping to erase that smug expression off her face.

"You brought up a shield on instinct." she said pushing her cup away. "You have a record of misfiring on impulse." she added. "How long do you think you can you keep this, she rolled her eyes over the kitchen, “safe." she said gazing at me for a silent moment. "It's a pity you refuse to use your resources," she said as she stood, "perhaps you could've even found a chance to ask... for the impossible." She gave me yet another smile and headed for the kitchen frame, halting there for a short yet lasting moment.

I looked down at my tea, cold, cold tea.

Slowly, steadily, she proceeded down the hall.

"Melanie wait." I said shocked at my own voice. It had been silent but her steps halted. The shape of her form stood there, down the hall, back to me, waiting. I knew she had a smile on her face. One of triumph. She had won, and she knew it.

So much for a peaceful, uninvolved existence.

I stood, my slippers were quiet against the parquet. "What are you suggesting." I said and she turned.

There wasn't a trace of emotion on her face though her hip was cocked setting her body in an overly feminine posture. "A clean slate."

I frowned. I didn't want it. I didn't wish for this deal. But few did when they signed their souls to the devil.

"I am reinstated, no mark on my 'resume,' no blackmail, no forcing me into what I do not want to do, and no Council pulling my strings."

She smiled a sinister smile. "Can't guarantee the latter."

I frowned. "I suggest you try, or the deal is off."

Her smile remained unchanged. "I will see what I can do." she said.