The Lost Girl

  “HOW MANY?” I asked one more time.

  “I DON’T KNOW! I don’t, all right? Many, loads, I don’t know! I lost count! Let me go!” he screamed at the top of his lungs, his mouth foaming. He was deranged with fear.

  I was exploding in anger.

  I tilted my head, observing him closely with cold, distant eyes. But inside I was burning. I should strike him now. I should kill him. You should. That’s what he deserves. Revenge. Make him pay. But maybe he deserves a better punishment. He deserves to remember what he did. Every day of his fucking disgusting life.

  “Let you go?” I said with a sneer. “I cannot let you go like this. Like nothing ever happened. You have to remember this. For the rest of your life, you will remember me. Whenever you look in the mirror, you will remember,” I said, and planted a hand flat against the right side of his face. The smell of burning flesh hit me again and the sound of his screams filled the night air. I could hear chains snapping off from their hold inside my head and I rested my hand over his entire face.

  I let go of his unconscious form and he slumped to the grass like a bag of trash, blisters and raw flesh swelling up on his ugly face. I turned and walked slowly to his broken-legged friend. He had witnessed everything, his eyes darting manically in every direction. But he was still trying to survive, crawling across the grass, trying to get away from me.

  I stopped next to him and knelt by his side. He stopped crawling, giving up his feeble attempt to escape. “I’m s-sorry!” he sobbed in despair. “I won’t ever do it again! Please, I swear!”

  I tilted my head again, watching him. The urge to crush him into a puddle of blood in the mud was almost irresistible, but I stopped myself at the last minute.

  “I know you won’t. You’re smarter than your friend. You know that if you ever do this again, I’ll come back for you, don’t you?”

  “Y-yes! I know!”

  “Tell your friend this. He must know he will be punished too if he ever hurts someone else. And you … you need to have something to remember as well. A slap on the face, a mark of your shame for ever etched on your cheek. Remember this,” I said, planting my hand on the side of his face the same way I had done with his friend. He didn’t cry as much and didn’t faint, either. But I knew he would never, ever forget.

  As I walked out of that park, a series of lightning bolts struck dozens of trees around me, scorching their trunks into black coal. I could feel the release of all the pent-up energy bursting out of me. As soon as my bare feet hit the pavement outside the park gates, I felt completely drained. I didn’t have any strength left. No more rattling chains, no more anger, just complete exhaustion taking over my soul.

  And it was so cold; my blood was freezing. I was trembling uncontrollably, the rain still falling heavily, chilling my drenched clothes like ice pouring over my flesh and bones. My teeth chattered as I crossed the street and sat on a bus stop bench. The merciless wind slashed furiously, cutting through me.

  The power I’d felt moments ago had abandoned me, and all the fog and haziness returned tenfold.

  I was dream-walking again. Wasn’t I? When would I wake up?

  I didn’t notice that I had my cell phone clutched in my hand. I remember thinking I needed to call someone to help me. Someone to calm me down and stop all this madness. I remember sticking my hand in my pocket and taking out a wet, smudged piece of paper. I could barely discern the numbers; the note was almost ruined. I dialed. It took two rings for him to pick up.

  “Hello?”

  “Hey,” I whispered, shivering.

  “Who is this?”

  “It’s me, Joey. I need help,” I pleaded, my voice faltering, my teeth still chattering from the cold.

  I think he asked for directions. I don’t remember what I said. There was a street sign a few feet away and there was the park. I didn’t know the name of the park. I didn’t remember reading the signs, either. All I knew was that the phone line cut and I remained on the bench, too drained to move, too tired to do anything. I just sat there and trembled from the cold. Soon I couldn’t feel my fingers any more, or my feet. I couldn’t feel anything except the cold, and I was aware of nothing but the sound of rain falling down, thunder rolling above me and the yellow, sickening light flickering from the streetlamp.

  Maybe this would be a good time to wake up. This dream wasn’t fun any more.

  And then a car stopped right in front of me, making me glance up. He walked out of the car, his face consumed by worry. He asked me things. I didn’t understand him. I couldn’t speak, I was shaking too violently, too far gone, barely seeing him, my mind a shambles.

  He grabbed me by the arms and tried to walk me to the car. I managed only a couple of steps before crumbling to the ground. He scooped me up in his arms and carried me. I think I passed out, or just drifted in and out of consciousness for a while, like I was submerged in water, dreaming I was drowning. My body was too exhausted to fight back and to be awake. I thought he carried me up some stairs at some point. But I couldn’t be sure.

  I was aware of feeling dry and warm again, and being in a dark room. And then I was aware of nothing.

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Search & Destroy

  I woke up groggily, my eyelids heavy as lead. I felt like I had a hangover, but without the headache, just a heavy weariness inside. I couldn’t quite identify what was wrong, but something definitely felt it.

  I let out a ragged breath and only then became aware of the heavy arm draped around me. And the different bed and the strange room. This wasn’t home. Where was I? And most importantly, whom was I with?

  I turned around slowly and was trying to dislodge the stranger’s arm from me when he shifted on the pillow.

  Caleb woke up, blinking at me, looking a little startled.

  “Hey. You’re up,” he said. He let go of me and yawned. “How are you feeling?”

  I moved to the edge of the bed, while he came to sit next to me, ruffling his dirty-blond hair. He was wearing large sweatpants and an old Rolling Stones T-shirt. “You gave me quite the scare last night, Joey.”

  “I did?” I tested out my voice hesitantly, and breathed a sigh of relief when I found I sounded normal again. “What happened last night?”

  “I don’t know! You tell me,” he said, raising an eyebrow.

  “I-I don’t remember …” I rubbed my eyes, tiredly. “How did I end up here?”

  Everything was a distant blur; I only remembered fractures of things, glimpses of scenes. It was like trying to recover a dream that was slipping away. The harder I tried to pinpoint it, the faster it drifted away from my memory.

  “Don’t you remember calling me?”

  “No. I called you?” I asked, surprised. My head felt kind of numb.

  “You don’t remember me picking you up from the bus stop, close to dawn, completely soaked, freezing to death in that blasting storm, barefoot and looking quite … out of it?” He glanced at me worriedly.

  I blinked slowly, trying hard to recollect last night’s events. “It’s all hazy and jumbled,” I said, rubbing my temples. “I think I was in the park … walking … for a while.”

  I remember screaming, men screaming, the rain, the wind, burning flesh, rattling chains …

  I shook my head. Something inside flashed in alarm – a warning. Don’t go there. It was best to leave this memory buried wherever it was.

  Caleb noticed my distress and put a hesitant arm around me, trying to be reassuring. “Hey, don’t worry. It was probably some heavy shit someone gave you; you had a bad trip or whatever there. You should be careful with this stuff … I had a friend once who tripped so bad he was never the same again …

  “Hell, I had my share of heavy stuff too, back in the party days. Took me a while to realize the shit isn’t worth it. Take my advice, you’re better off staying away from that.”

  “I didn’t …” I trailed off, unable to tell him that I had never done drugs in my life. But how else was I going to e
xplain last night to him? “What happened when you picked me up? Did I say anything?” I asked instead.

  He shook his head. “No, you were basically freezing to death and almost passed out. I got you here, dried you up, put you in some warm clothes and laid you in bed.”

  Only then did I notice I was wearing one of his T-shirts. It had a faded Foo Fighters logo on it and it was too large for me, covering me to the middle of my thighs. I knew I should feel embarrassed or something – he had taken my clothes off and all – but I wasn’t. I didn’t care. Inside there was no embarrassment or shame, just numbness.

  “Then I went to change into something dry myself, and I came back to give you a blanket. You still looked like you were so cold … But when I’d covered you up, you grabbed my wrist, and didn’t want to let go. You’ve got quite the death grip on you!” he said, playfully rubbing his wrist. “The more I tried to pull, the more you tightened your hold. I gave up and lay by your side.” He chuckled, but then changed his expression to serious again. “I hope you don’t think I was taking advantage … I was planning to crash on the couch, but you were dead set on not letting go.”

  I glanced at his arm and extended my fingers, touching his wrist lightly. There were faint purple bruises, little finger marks, wrapping around it. I must have grabbed him real hard. “I’m sorry,” I whispered. “I don’t remember doing this.”

  “That’s okay. You were feeling scared, that’s all,” he said, rubbing the bruise. “Has something happened … between you and Tristan?”

  Another warning flashed inside: don’t go there. There is nothing there for you but pain. I felt light-headed, blood rushing through my brain; everything felt hazy again as I tried to force the memory out. There was something about Tristan, a flickering image of him in our backyard, but I couldn’t remember exactly what had happened …

  The effort to remember versus the warning that I should forget was making me feel sick to my stomach.

  “After you grabbed my arm, you whispered something …” Caleb insisted on carrying on his probing. “You said, ‘Tris, please, don’t leave.’”

  I stood up and started picking up my clothes off the floor, a sudden urge to leave taking over me. I needed to get away.

  “I reckon I look a lot like him. You must have got me mixed up,” he said, standing up as well.

  I shook my head, in denial. “I’m sorry. I don’t remember …” I don’t want to remember. I forced myself to feel numb, letting nothingness wash over me while I got dressed.

  “Joey, tell me what’s wrong,” he insisted.

  I turned to look at him, my eyes blank. “I don’t know, Caleb. I think something is broken. I think … I’m broken.” I didn’t feel sad; I just felt this overwhelming sense of loss. Something was missing inside of me. I didn’t know what, but I knew it was something important.

  “Hey,” he murmured, putting a hand on my shoulder. He looked so worried … like he truly cared.

  I shook my head. “Caleb, listen. Thank you so much for everything, for helping me, for picking me up last night. But I have to go,” I said, walking out of the room.

  “Hey, wait!” he called out, running after me. “I’ll make you something to eat before you leave, okay?” he said.

  “Thanks, but I’m not hungry,” I said, carrying on towards the front door. Come to think of it, I hadn’t felt hungry in a long time. I didn’t recall the last time I had slept, either – proper sleep, that is, not just crashing out.

  He sighed. That was definitely not the answer he was waiting for. “Okay. I’ll drop you off wherever you need to—” he started to offer, but I interrupted him.

  “No. You’ve done enough for me already. Don’t worry,” I said, walking out of the door.

  “Hang on! I can’t let you walk away like this. You don’t even have shoes on!” he exclaimed, following me.

  I stopped and glanced down at my bare feet. “It doesn’t matter, Caleb.”

  “Let me at least call one of your boys to come pick you up, then. Not, you know, him, but one of the other guys … Bass player dude, he can pick you up, right?” Caleb suggested, his pale-blue eyes filled with concern. He looked so much like Tristan, even more so when he was worried.

  “I’m going to meet them right now, Caleb,” I said, dismissing his suggestion. “I really need to go.”

  He slumped his shoulders in defeat. “All right. There are taxis at the front of the building. And if you need me, you know where I am.”

  I turned away from him and headed down the hallway. I only stopped when he finally gave up the idea of helping me and I heard his front door clicking shut. I couldn’t remember many things from the night before, but one thing was clear and bright, glowing in a burning way inside my head.

  I remembered using Vigil’s power.

  I remembered the key to using it, the right way to channel it. It was like I finally understood the magical equation behind it, the switch to make it work, and how it worked. I had finally solved the puzzle. Now I could do anything I wanted with this power. It was all in my hands.

  I closed my eyes and visualized home. When I appeared in the middle of the living room, Vigil was the first person I saw. He had his elbows propped on his knees, his chin resting on his hands. He was staring intentely at a rumpled map outstretched over the coffee table. I could feel the tension in his shoulders, the hardness of his eyes as he concentrated on the map. Celeste was slumped on the couch next to Vigil, fast asleep, her neck bent at a weird angle. She looked exhausted. The boys were nowhere to be seen, but Tristan was standing by the window with his back to us, guarding the street outside. He didn’t notice me appearing.

  Vigil did.

  He lifted his head and stood up slowly, a cautiousness about his movements, a guarded look in his eyes.

  “Are you all right?” was his first question.

  “Yes. I am fine,” I answered plainly as I walked towards him. “Vigil, I can help get Nick now. We don’t need to wait for him to come to us any more. We’ll go after him. I know how to do it now.”

  He narrowed his eyes, trying to read something in me.

  “Joey?” Tristan called out.

  I didn’t turn around or acknowledge him. “Vigil, you said you were working on a tracking spell with Celeste. Can you locate Nick now? I can finally take care of him,” I stated, looking at the map spread out over the table. What had Vigil been doing? Trying to locate Nick? Or me?

  Celeste stirred when she heard her name. “Joey! You’re back. Thank God!” she breathed in relief.

  I didn’t acknowledge her, either. “Vigil? The tracking spell? Can you do it?” I asked again, getting impatient. I wanted to get out, away from these people.

  “Yes, I can,” he said, his eyes fixed unblinkingly on mine.

  “Do you have the glass ball with you?”

  “Yes, it is in my pocket here.”

  “Joey, we need to talk,” Tristan called again, his tone urgent. I sensed his presence close to me. Too close. You can’t ever let him touch you. A flash of the previous night passed through my mind. A memory of Nick surfaced as well – the backyard; Tristan … fading.

  And rattling chains.

  I walked away from him, reaching for the map on the coffee table. You need to get out of here and away from him.

  “I have nothing to say to you,” I said coldly.

  “Joe, it’s important, please,” Tristan insisted. “Can you please just look at me?” His voice wavered a little.

  I grabbed the map and turned to look at him. He had dark shadows under his tired eyes. He was hurting. I didn’t care. He deserved it.

  I watched this person, this boy that had meant the world to me, looking back at me with those big gray eyes that once were so dear, and now all I could see were his lies, his deceitful intentions, his betrayal masking every beautiful aspect of his face. There was nothing connecting us any more. He meant nothing to me.

  “I have bigger things to worry about,” I said with a blank stare
. The deep look of hurt on his face did not bother me. Any other time, it would have destroyed me, but today, it didn’t. Today I didn’t care.

  Celeste put a hand over her mouth in shock. Tristan made an attempt to walk towards me, but Vigil stopped him.

  “Wait. Don’t,” he warned Tristan. “Something’s wrong. Do not come closer.” Then he turned slowly to me. “Joey … what happened last night, after you left?” he asked, visibly alarmed, searching for something in my eyes.

  “It doesn’t matter what happened. What matters is that I had an opportunity to better understand your powers. And I do understand them now. I know how they work. I can use them for my benefit. I can use them to hunt Nick down.”

  “Did you … hurt anyone?” Vigil asked slowly, as if I was carrying a loaded gun and pointing it in his direction.

  I shrugged. “Does it matter if I did? I told you, this is not important. We need to focus on Nick and stop wasting time with unimportant things.”

  “Unimportant? Vigil, what the hell is wrong with her?” Tristan asked abruptly.

  “I-I think she has finally disconnected herself from her emotions, like I told her to do. But something went wrong … I-I don’t know why, but she is losing her humanity … I can see it in her eyes. There is only a void and coldness; detachment from herself.”

  “You told her to disconnect herself from her emotions?” Tristan asked.

  “There is nothing wrong with me,” I retorted in a cold tone.

  “So you’re telling me that all this time she’s been stuffing her feelings down her throat, burying them and pretending it didn’t bother her instead of dealing with it?” Tristan raised his voice, making Harry, Josh, Sam and Seth come running into the room in alarm.

  “Her emotions were only causing her to lose control!” Vigil countered, agitated. “I have been watching her carefully for signs. She lost control whenever she got in contact with her emotions. I was trying to find a way to make everyone safe around her while she has my powers. They are not meant for humankind to wield; they are not meant for her.”