The Mythic--- 0 & 1

0

Tragedy stole through the air like a thief in the night. It took everything. It stole. It was the smell of rain on a hot night and stale sweat against skin. Slaughter. Car brakes squealed on asphalt and shattered glass crashed to the cement in a silent world. The ultimate villain, this thief was everything mortals could never be.

Swift.

Callous.

Unstoppable.

Their bodies didn’t stink like hunks of rotted meat. The door was broken, hanging cockeyed from its busted hinges. Someone had taken something red and played with it like a child experimenting with finger-paints. What changes people from living to broken? Is it the same as a little girl accidentally breaking her porcelain doll? Or maybe a dog tearing into raw meat?

The dead were not peaceful, not really. Especially not when there was a survivor around to haunt with their regrets. The dead didn’t like to stay silent, not when they had died screaming.

Ophelia Knight sat in their blood. Let it soak into her skin. It was all over her, clotting her hair and marking crescents under her fingernails. Such carnage clung to her like a tattoo of bad omens. A mess, a disaster, like that didn’t happen by any natural means. It was the resulting catastrophe of a shattered mind and a persecuted soul.

The environment reflected Ophelia’s heart. It, too, was scattered across the room in bloody fragments. It laid there among the destruction with her parents and older sister and Ophelia herself. Or, what she used to be. She knew that thing lying beside her desecrated family members was nothing but a husk now.

The sounds still rang in her mind. Ophelia could feel the blood against her skin and the squish of the wet carpet where she sat. The world could not touch her, but she could touch it. Despite everything, she could still feel. She was the acclimation of feelings and echoes and fragments of the world around her. All of it struck her consciousness and stained it, branded it like a searing cattle iron, the aftermath of a lightning strike. She was changed forever into something other.

Tragedy had that kind of power.

It had taken said power into the palm of its hands and wielded it like a weapon. It had unleashed Hell on this house. Had made Ophelia into what she was now. The spoiled remnants of her soul stuck to the Earth like dried glue, a residue of energy and images and such feelings.

There, the spirit of Ophelia Knight sat among the crime scene, the torn pieces of her family’s remains scattered around her and saturating the carpet.

1

The water was a promise wherever it went. If it fell from the sky in light, crystalline raindrops, it meant rebirth, usually with sadness. High tide meant opportunities were coming, while low tide tended to mean the end of one. Water in many perspectives usually signified purity or purification, a cleansing power.

It was hailing.

No one knew what that meant.

Meanwhile, I was stuck in a gas station. I held onto my unopened bags of cheese puffs and a half empty bottle of SoBe, haphazardly typing out a text with one hand. Please send umbrella.

The entire week before had been filled with nothing but rain, so much that my sneakers were currently squelching in puddles leftover inside. It was like this in every store, gas station, and even some homes. The water was like a constant flood, seeping through the floorboards and causing all kinds of havoc. Entire families had lost their homes because they couldn’t pay for the damage. It was a mild plague on the city.

However, I knew what rain meant. I had considered the constant rain a good sign. Maybe the new beginning would be sad, maybe not. Either way, I had nothing left to lose.

That was what I told myself.

Now it was hailing. Big, grape-sized chunks of ice, raining down from the sky and pummeling cars and asphalt. I had no clue what that might signify, but the whole scene left me feeling a little jittery.

But there was no way I was going out there at this rate. The wind was blowing the ice so hard, I’d have gotten my face sanded off. So I was going to make Theo bring in my umbrella for me.

You won’t melt in the water, he texted back.

I stood next to the sliding glass doors, where I could just make out Theo sitting in the car a row away. I wouldn’t melt, no. It would be much worse and he knew it.

He waved at me.

I put my hands on my hips, frowning.

My phone buzzed again and I glanced down.

Just make a run for it, he typed.

I sent him back a frowny face.

I watched him exaggeratedly curse me out to the heavens and step out of the car, leaving the engine running. He smiled, all dimples, and came up to me with a dripping blue umbrella.

“Your highness,” he said dramatically, holding the door open with a chime. “Your chariot awaits.”

Shifting my cheese puffs, I grabbed the umbrella and started outside. “You can find your own umbrella,” I called over my shoulder.

I smiled at his footsteps pounding after me. It was important to be careful as I walked, since there were still countless puddles of standing water outside. Each little splash that soaked the tiniest bit through my socks or the hems of my jeans was one step closer to disaster. It was nearly impossible to avoid and I could feel it now, the tingling, boiling hot flecks of water brushing across my skin. The skin of my ankles practically sizzled with it. Even the occasional mist to my face was hard to avoid unless I wore my mask, and I hadn’t been feeling that particular fashion choice today. Yet nothing seemed to protect my legs and feet. I always tended to walk with a limp when it rained because it hurt so bad. Spritz fiery hot water on yourself and see how well you can walk.

Theo leaned under the umbrella with me, making sure to maintain slow and precise steps so he didn’t splash me. I glanced up at him and raised my brows. He was soaked through, from his curly black hair to the toes of his tennis shoes. Wavy asymmetrical hair brushed over his eyes and curled along his cheekbone. It had been a while since either of us had the luxury to cut our hair, so his was getting a little bit long, brushing his chin. Most of it was tied in a small knot at the nape of his neck and his bangs were constantly being swept out of his eyes. Those eyes were a striking amber, the color of fool’s gold. A smooth, angular jaw and daring brows took over his features. He always seemed to be wearing band t-shirts like The Beatles or some crazier ones like Fall Out Boy, and one time I even saw him wearing a shirt plastered with Beethoven’s face. He was a bit like his style in that way--- all over the place.

“Jeez, slow down, Ivy.” That enamouring grin took over his features again, like it always did when he was teasing. “Be a proper lady, will you?”

Without thinking, I playfully punched his shoulder, bare knuckles grazing soaked fabric. I hissed and snatched my hand back. I could feel the heat rise to my face in embarrassment. Clutching my fist to my chest, I watched as pearlescent blue scales rose up on my fingers, my human skin cracking and peeling back. My heartbeat was loud in my ears, invading the sudden silence. The only real sound came from the ice bouncing off the umbrella and street around us. Slowly, the normal skin patched it up, covering and healing the blemishes like an old wound.

I cursed. The sudden reminder of what it looked like had me ultra-aware of every sting, every mist of water. The wind had been blowing miniscule droplets of water into my face this whole time...I couldn’t imagine what I looked like.

“Let’s get in the car,” Theo said gently.

I blinked, realizing that I had stopped walking altogether.

Once inside the giant, beat-up Suburban, I grabbed a towel from our massive supply in the backseat and tossed it at Theo. He quickly went through the motions, squeezing out his hair and clothes, drying off his arms and face. I buckled myself in, settling into the soft gray passenger’s seat. I bit down on my lip and tried to relax, tried to ignore the searing pain arcing across my feet and shins.

“Take off your pants.”

I didn’t realize I had wrenched my eyes shut until they snapped open again, staring at Theo’s concerned face. “What?”

He rolled his eyes, turning the wheel and backing out of the parking lot. “Just take off your pants and shoes, Ivy,” he repeated. “You shouldn’t have to sit there in pain.”

“But I don’t have any extra pairs---”

He laughed at me, eyes on the road. “Stop trying to make things weird. You’re injured.”

Stubbornly, I crossed my arms and turned my eyes to the window beside me. It wasn’t that I didn’t trust Theo. I trusted him with my life. It was just...embarrassment. I could feel it crowding my thoughts at the mere idea of showing it off deliberately. I couldn’t imagine purposefully revealing something so heinous and unnatural. It was a curse, and I felt much better with any signs of it covered, regardless of pain.

I heard a scoff at my silence. In response, I leaned my head against the cool glass, the tiny bit of moisture pricking my cheek like tiny needles. The road seemed endless, a carpet of asphalt constantly rolling. The houses always looked the same, no matter where we went. The usual stucco or bricks or plaster, paper-mache and glue and mud mushed together, some with cutesy flowers on the lawn or dry gray rocks. If we were lucky, the area was full of giant trees or rippling hills. Some type of green was always nice and usually had a positive effect on both of us. Green meant life and life meant hope.

But we were in Kansas.

And it was hailing.

And apparently I didn’t understand anything anymore.

Symbolism was everywhere. Yet forcing myself to find the hope in it all was harder than it should’ve been.

Theo reached over and cranked up the radio, windshield wipers punctuating the movements. A wailing and fumbling electric guitar poured from the speakers, soon accompanied by the familiar butter-smooth voice that belonged to Fall Out Boy. He drummed his fingers along the steering wheel.

“Where to next?” asked Theo.

I sat up, stretching. “We planned for California, right?”

He nodded. “Just...checking.”

The tension in his shoulders permeated the air and had me fidgeting. California was known for its charms and beaches, but we knew what laid beneath. I’d been raised in Cali, and I would’ve died there too if Theo hadn’t shown up when he did.

He hated that place as much as I did, but it was the only clue we had to finding answers.

For both of us.

We hit a bump in the road and the faded Harry Potter figurine on the dash wobbled. Strings of seashells from each coastline we’d visited hung from the rearview mirror, clacking every now and then. The Suburban’s baked green exterior made one automatically think of boiled spinach, so naturally Theo had pasted the trunk door and back windows with all sorts of stickers and inside jokes. We’d been on the road for the past six months since he’d busted me out of the prison I’d been living in. Once I was snagged by Child Protective Services--- dear old mom had sent out an amber alert, how sweet--- I had been shuffled between various foster homes. All of which had been easily paid off to turn me in to the government. It had taken me a long, long time to settle down even remotely without looking over my shoulder every five seconds.

This awful van, no matter how much it smelled like fast-food wrappers and old mothballs, courtesy of its previous owner, was home. It had grown on me.

After a nice meal of luke-warm McDonalds and diet Coke, we set off to the nearest hotel, regardless of rating. Actually, from experience, I had learned that the lower the stars the better the chances that any oddities you brought along were overlooked. Theo always made sure to pay a few bucks extra, as a bribe of some sort. How a few dollars made any difference was lost on me.

Our hotel was practically a shack, I happily noted. The ceilings were yellowed and caved dangerously low. Faint stains decorated the carpet, which was the color of TV static and pressed flat from thousands of footsteps. The lobby was small and smelled like cigarette smoke and a set of stairs led off on one side. The receptionist was a sturdy old man with receding salt-and-pepper hair.

I stood beside Theo as he gave the man some money and flashed the IDs we procured so long ago. As far as the world knew, our names were Katherine Smith and John Miller. Basic names for not so basic people.

The receptionist adjusted his smudged bifocals and shuffled through the money, seeming pleased. He licked his parched lips. “You’re not from around these parts, are you?” he asked.

My hackles were raised and I could already feel the walls closing in, hear the police sirens. While I was panicking, Theo just smiled, because of course the old man was only making conversation.

Of course.

“That obvious, huh?” Theo said with a tight laugh.

The receptionist nodded gravely. “I’d be careful, if I were you.”

“Excuse me?” Theo paused, our room key dangling in his fingers.

“You’re not the only ones that aren’t from around here, boy.” The man’s leathered face was smooth as stone. “Call the front desk if you happen to feel…” He pressed his mouth into a thin line. “---unwelcome, at all.”

Theo’s gaze was heavy as he gave a single nod and grabbed my hand, towing me toward the stairs. I craned my neck to watch the receptionist before we turned a corner. Something about him got under my skin, made me uneasy.

In a flash, his solid gold gaze met my own, pupils expanding into vertical slits. He gave me a quick nod. His face was narrow, almost flat like a snake’s. I jerked my head back around so fast my neck hurt.

The key flashed dirty copper in the sparse light as we climbed. Our footsteps seemed muffled, dulled around us. Dust filled my lungs if I breathed too deeply. I trailed a hand along the metal banister and kept my gaze off the narrow cream colored walls that looked more gray than white.

Theo’s voice was louder in the stairwell. “I guess this is a common sanctuary.”

I nodded, before belatedly realizing that he wasn’t looking at me and I should probably say something. “Yeah,” I replied, mouth dry. His fingers shifted in mine and I realized we were still holding hands. “That man down there---” I started.

“He’s one of us, isn’t he?” he asked.

“A gorgon,” I explained, brows furrowed. I bit my lip. “Are we really safe here?”

Theo paused. “You know we’re not safe anywhere, Ivy.”

“I know,” I sighed. Something still nagged me. “Can we really trust a gorgon, though?” Immediately after asking it, my stomach twisted with guilt and I blanched. Gorgons were infamous for their two-faced attitudes and lack of loyalty. More than one had turned over their own kind, but that didn’t justify a thing. I was no better than the rest of the world, judging people based solely on their DNA. I’d been on the receiving end of that nastiness more times than I could count. I should’ve been better than that. “That’s not what I mean---”

He squeezed my hand. “I know what you meant.” His voice was soft. “I think we’ll be okay. He didn’t have to warn us like that.”

We crested the stairs and made it to our room, which was just as run-down as the rest of the building. A rickety nightstand carried a worn Bible in its drawers and an old-fashioned landline rested on top. A boxy TV sat on a table at the far end of the room, screen blank and remote sitting beside it. The smoke got stronger once we were inside and the queen-sized bed was rumpled and a yellowy-white color, like stained teeth. Suspicious marks littered it. I didn’t have the stomach to look much closer than that.

I dumped my duffle by the door and set my backpack nearby. Theo set to his usual routine and took out a folded black tarp, spreading it out and covering the bed with it. The noise filled the room as I helped him straighten it. I took out the only luxury item I could afford to have--- a blue fleece blanket--- and set it on my side of the bed. We didn’t need pillows since they took up so much packing space. Theo carried a blanket as well and draped it on his side, then set to work with powering the TV.

Already my body was drooping with exhaustion. My hair was greasy and my clothes stiff with rain, but I ached to collapse on the bed and drift away. Theo finally got the TV working and slightly fuzzy sports announcers filled the silence. The picture was grainy, but you could see the basketball players shuffling across the gym floor, hear the squeak of their shoes. I knew Theo didn’t really have a thing for sports, but we needed the background noise. Me especially.

Without a word, I grabbed my duffle and locked myself in the tiny bathroom. I dropped the bag on the countertop, unzipping it and pulling out a pair of pajamas, my toothbrush, and toothpaste. I shucked off my clothes, taking a deep breath. The sounds of scuffling and cheering crowds were mild through the bathroom door. As always, my privacy was complete. It was just a matter of gathering my nerves.

When I stepped into the steaming stream of water, I immediately hissed at the contact, my entire body recoiling. I was on fire and yet freezing, chills skating across my entire body. I could scarcely move, hardly breathe. My eyes were kept screwed shut as I tilted my head back, letting the liquid fall over my face, leaving no part of my body untouched. It felt like being boiled alive, and I suddenly had the absurd thought that I would never eat lobster again. Slowly, the agony ebbed away, but I stood still, focusing on the sound of water crashing at my feet. Something about it steadied my heart, calmed my breathing. I was stiff, like freshly starched clothes. Eyes remaining firmly shut, I rolled my joints and set to work at scrubbing myself clean.

***

Completely dry and dressed in an oversized t-shirt and shorts, I flopped on the bed. A curtain of long brown hair obscured my vision and I buried my face in my blanket. The television was still broadcasting white noise and I was thankful that it wasn’t silent. It was times like these, in the evening especially, where I felt condensed, suffocated. I wanted a different life, any life. Anything but my current reality.

My heart pounded harshly in my chest and I clenched my teeth to prevent tears from escaping.

The bed creaked and Theo swan-dived right beside me and sent me bouncing. He flicked my hair out of my face.

“You know the rules,” he said. “No hair on my side.”

I huffed. “That’s a bit picky, don’t you think?”

“No, it’s fair,” he insisted. “It’s all over the place! And you shed a lot. I’ll wake up looking like I’m the proud owner of a large dog.”

I sat up, tucking said hair behind my ears, and changed the subject. “Have you heard from Hailee recently?”

Now lying on his back, Theo stared up at the ceiling. “No. She’s been silent for the past week.”

“What? Why didn’t you tell me? She could be in danger.”

He let out a breath. “I didn’t want to worry you. She’s probably fine.” He smiled at me. “We all know she can take care of herself.”

Well, he was definitely right on that count. I had seen Hailee in action before and it had given me nightmares for weeks. She was bloody and brutal, quick to go for the killing blow. Sometimes, I thought she might have lived for the pain. “She’s your sister,” I pointed out. “You must be a little worried.”

Theo was silent, and I knew I was right. Hailee was the only thing left he could really claim as family, no matter how distant they had become. They were bonded by blood and DNA and not even Hailee’s hot and cold moods could change that. They had been on a pretty good stint these past couple of months and we had helped each other out more than once. Going silent so suddenly when she used to check in every other day couldn’t mean anything good.

“Let’s give it a little while longer,” Theo finally said.

I nodded. In the fading evening light, his skin looked like a marble statue, ashen. His mouth was pressed into a determined line. If I hadn’t known any better, I would say he showed all the emotion of a rock. I could see through the exterior, through the tension in his jaw, the tightness around his eyes. However, I knew he was right. In the meantime, the real challenge would be keeping myself from worrying so much. A fruitless cause, certainly.

I stretched back on the bed and immediately felt Theo’s warm presence beside me. I was letting the day’s excitement catch up with me at last. The tarp underneath us crumpled as I shifted to cover myself with my blanket.

A weight still pressed heavily on my chest. Stress was still my constant companion. You would think I’d have grown to expect its gifts by now, find some familiarity in it. Yet I still didn’t want to give in to the images waiting just beneath my eyelids, the sensations that followed me everywhere I went and pounced every time I let my guard down.

I shouldn’t have been surprised when Theo shifted, turned, and pulled me closer. His arm around my shoulders was strong and steady and soothed me in a way it probably shouldn’t have. His eyes collided with mine. I unconsciously turned toward him, caved closer like he held some sort of magnetic thrall. We were close enough that I could smell him, a mix of spice and mint and that faint undertone of acrylic paints.

He flicked my forehead. “You’re pretty cool, you know,” he said.

My cheeks flamed. “I guess you’re alright.”

He smirked and turned his gaze away, up at the ceiling. A soft sigh escaped him. “We’ll be okay.” Something about the words pierced me. “We’ll be okay.”