Authors: Kate Wrath
Eden (29 page)
I stare at him, still unable to move. He's right in front
of me now, I have no idea what he wants, and I'm still frozen. Finally, my
eyes break away from his and scan past him, finding Celine's slumped body.
"She'll be fine," he says softly, not looking
back.
I swallow and nod once. I believe him. My eyes move back
to his. "...Who... who are you?"
"I'm West." He reaches out to touch my arm.
There's so much warmth in that touch, and in his eyes. I
don't even flinch. I scan his face, looking for answers.
"I need you to come with me," he says, his face
turning again to sorrow. "I'm sorry, Lil.... Your brother is
dying."
I stare up at West with my mouth open. There are no words,
and so many thoughts and feelings. I have a brother? I have a brother.
A brother who's dying.
Tears well up in my eyes, and a sob rolls up from my belly.
I cut it off, closing my mouth, wrapping my arms around myself. West's arm
slides around my shoulders, scooping me toward him.
"Back the fuck away from her." Apollon's voice
has an edge in it like I've never heard before.
I shove West to the side and step forward, my arm going
protectively in front of him. "Apollon." My eyes find my friend at
the top of the stairs where he stands with his knife drawn. "It's OK.
He's a friend."
Apollon's eyes scan to the lump that is Celine, then back to
me. He doesn't put the knife away.
I march toward him and push his hand toward his sheath.
"I mean it. I'll explain... later."
He eyes me, then eyes West, who is leaning against the
terrace wall patiently. "What the hell?" Apollon whispers.
"What happened?" His eyes go again to Celine.
I shake my head. "She's just knocked out. She'll be
fine."
"Fine?" Apollon's jaw is working as he glares at
West, then looks at Celine. He breaks into motion, going to her, squatting at
her side where he can still keep an eye on West. He feels her pulse, brushes
back her hair.
I want to explain everything, but I don't know where to
begin. I don't know enough, myself. But I can't wait. None of this can wait.
"Look after her," I tell Apollon as I move back
toward West. "I have to go. I'll be back when I can."
Apollon's eyes widen on me just enough to communicate that
I'm acting irrationally.
I don't have time for this. My voice is clipped with anger,
with impatience, and tainted with grief. "I have a brother, and he's
dying. I have to go."
Apollon looks startled. He stands up, his gaze locked on
mine. He's forgotten about Celine. His voice is faint, but filled with
emotion. "Holy hell."
"I have to go," I say again, taking West by the
arm to draw him toward the stairs. "Tell Jonas...." My voice trails
off and I shake my head. I don't know what I was going to say.
"We'll tell him later," Apollon says. "I'm
going with you."
I feel like I'm supposed to protest, but I don't. I'm
grateful that Apollon is willing to come, suddenly sure that I couldn't do this
without him. I expect West to object, but he doesn't.
"Let's go, then," he says, and he heads for the
stairs.
Apollon glances back at Celine, then we follow West down into
the streets of Wynwood.
West leads us through the shadows and along the street,
avoiding people and lit areas. "Not my turf," he explains, as if he
needed to.
I'm pretty sure I could handle any conflicts by using my
locally famous face, but it's better not to push our luck. I don't need any
delays right now. Apollon and I exchange glances but follow along quietly.
When we near the edge of Wynwood, Apollon asks quietly,
"Where are we going?"
West glances back over his shoulder. "Brickell."
"Brickell?" Apollon and I say at once. We look
at each other, and I'm sure my eyes are as wide as his.
West gestures at us to move—the street ahead is clear. As
the three of us hurry across, he claps Apollon on the shoulder. "Don't
worry. You'll be under my protection."
Apollon glances at me as we make it to the shadows on the
other side. He didn't miss it, either.
He'll
be under West's
protection. That means I don't need to be. That means I'm....
"I'm from Brickell?" I whisper, looking up at West
as we approach the border where Wynwood's southeast side touches a stretch of
No Man's.
He pauses, leaning against the wall next to me, considering
me. The tiniest smile touches the corners of his mouth. "Once," he
says, but I have the feeling he wanted to say something else. There's no time
to question him, because he's on the move, across the border and into the No
Man's.
Apollon and I run to keep up with him. A few paces behind
him when we slow, Apollon nudges me. "You believe him? He could be making
all this up."
"He's not." My eyes are fixed on West's back,
determined not to lag behind. "I absolutely trust him." I glance at
Apollon, now, hoping he can see what I can't explain. What I would have felt,
would have known, even if not for Celine's admission.
He nods once and takes me by the arm. "Let's keep up,
then."
We start running again, following West's lead as we move at
a rapid pace through the No Man's. I haven't been into this section of the
city before, and feel as though I could easily be lost. We dart from shadow to
shadow for a few moments dodging through debris and overgrown vines, trying not
to step on anything unpleasant. Ahead of us, in between leaning buildings,
there is movement.
Apollon and I slam on the brakes, but West keeps moving
forward. "It's alright," he hisses back over his shoulder.
Reluctantly, we trail along as we approach two imposing
silhouettes. Framed by light from behind, both are large, packing weapons, and
poised with feet apart, ready for conflict. West stops as he approaches,
ushering us forward. "Got her," he says to them, hand on my back,
bringing me toward them. I feel their eyes on me, but I can't see their
faces. All I can make out is that one of them has a mohawk, and that their
guns are pretty damned frightening. Half a second, and they're fixed on
Apollon. Their stances have gone from semi-relaxed to tense.
"A friend," West says. The two men go back to
relaxed, lowering their guns reluctantly.
"Everything's been quiet here," one of them says.
His voice rings familiar, makes the tension drain out of me. I want to hear
the other one speak, but he doesn't. They lead us off in the direction we were
heading. In moments, the sound of the ocean filters through the night, and
soon our feet are sinking into sand.
They pull a small boat out from behind some wreckage and
slide it toward the waves.
Apollon and I look at each other.
"Another water adventure," he murmurs, standing at
my side as we watch them.
I squeeze his arm, thankful for his presence. Thankful for
the way he always makes me feel better. At West's gesture, we trudge toward
the boat and climb in. The two men guide our boat into the water, then hop
aboard. West already has the motor running and has moved to the controls as
the two men make themselves comfortable on the stretch of seat in front of us.
The boat lurches and takes off. I grip the edge and Apollon's hand as we speed
through the dark water.
The man who spoke before turns around and looks at us—mostly
at me. His eyes flick briefly to Apollon, sum him up, and come back to my face
before scanning downward, and back up. "I'm Charlie," he says, then
looks at his mohawked companion. "That's Razor. You're gonna want to
duck. We were quiet and long getting here, but we're blasting back through on
the way home. We're gonna take some fire as we pass between Downtown and
Dodge." He nods his chin toward the front. Even now I can see the land
encroaching on the water from both sides, and we're heading toward it fast.
"Shit," says Apollon quietly.
We hit the deck as Charlie and Razor swing their guns toward
the front. No sooner have I planted my face in the boat's floor than I hear
the first bursts of fire. Those are immediately returned by Razor and Charlie,
sending vibrations through the boat. I cover my ears against the sharp blasts,
afraid I've already gone deaf. But even with my hands over my ears, I can hear
the spatter of gunfire. We're fast, though. Really fast. In no time, Charlie
and Razor are firing to our sides, then behind us. And in a moment, the sound
of firing dies off altogether.
There's a short stretch of silence, then West says
"We're OK."
I take a deep breath, uncover my head, and cautiously climb
back into my seat, half-hanging-on to Apollon, who does the same. We look
behind us.
"They won't follow us into our territory."
Razor's voice is also familiar, also soothing. I stare at him until he adds,
"They know better."
"Yeah. Sure." I shrug and look out over the
water, trying to settle whatever weirdness is inside me. As comforting and
familiar as these guys are, the sensation of it all makes me uneasy. But it's
the other thing that's really getting to me—the slow-onset feeling of climbing
panic. My brother is dying. My brother is dying. My brother is dying.
"West," I finally manage, climbing awkwardly past
Charlie and Razor. I drop down next to him as he glances at me. "My
brother. Tell me about him. Why is he dying? How long does he have?"
West's face doesn't exactly change, but everything about it
changes. Maybe it's his eyes. The light in them fades, just like when I
watched that last sliver of sun. He doesn't waver, or crumple, or tremble, but
the sorrow coming off of him is palpable. My heart breaks, just looking at
him. He doesn't answer me, and I realize that it's because he can't.
I look down, wanting to apologize, to take my question back,
but I find that I can't speak, either.
After a long moment, he clears his throat and manages,
"We're almost there." He steers the boat toward the nearby shore and
skims up to a dock. A small group of people greet us, a couple of them taking
charge of the boat as we abandon it. The rest of them fall in around us,
leading us off into the city—an armed escort from the looks of it.
There's no hiding in any shadows here. We stride
confidently, quickly through the streets, Apollon and I at the center of this
little circle of people. It's a direct path with no twists or turns, deep into
buildings tall enough to pierce the sky. I look up as we walk, feeling
swallowed by the mass of them. Brickell is nothing like Wynwood. It's all up
and up and up. High above, bridges connect paths from one building to the
next, giving the feeling that you could walk across Brickell without ever
touching the ground. Like these people live in the sky.
We enter one massive building and take the stairs. I lose
count how many stories we climb, but we have to stop briefly when I fall
behind, losing my breath. I pant with my hands on my knees, pushing away the feeling
of dizziness. Just as Apollon and West both start to look concerned, I shove
myself forward, even though my body doesn't want to listen to me. I don't have
time to be tired right now.
West leads us more slowly this time, and I notice that it's
just me, him, and Apollon left when Charlie and Razor detour onto one of the
upper landings. Eventually, we jog off into a hall and then into another
stairway that spirals around. At its top is open air—a roof. And what looks
like a building on top of a building. The roof is its yard. We stride toward
the building.
West opens the door for me and stops, meeting my gaze. He
wants to say something, but his words seem to die in his throat. "His
name's Kade," he finally whispers, and nods me forward.
I pass through the door, Apollon straight behind me, and
West in the rear. The inside is quiet... and immaculate. There are tiles
everywhere, though ancient and cracked. Beautiful reds and oranges and golds
on white, arranged in intricate, exotic patterns. The ceiling... the floor...
there are accents of flowers or sunbursts or
something
worked in large
mosaics. I imagine this is what a palace must have looked like, long ago, when
there were such things. The room is wide, like a huge hall, with alcoves off of
it. The furniture is as nice as anything I have ever seen, finely worked and
upholstered in rich fabrics. Clean. Everything is incredibly clean.
West brushes past me, taking me by the arm. "This
way."
I walk with him, though I'm still gaping at all the
incredible details as I walk by.
We move through, to a room in the back. West places his
hand on the closed door for a moment, hesitates, but doesn't knock. Is he
afraid? Finally, he turns the doorknob and quietly pushes the door open,
drawing me inside.
A girl with dark, curly hair looks up from a chair at the
side of the bed. Her eyes fix on me, then dart to West.
He nods toward the door.
Her lips press together, but she says nothing as she rises
and goes out. Apollon, standing in the doorway, steps to the side to allow her
to pass.
West walks to the side of the bed and leans over it, his
hand brushing the blankets. The man in the bed opens his eyes but makes no
other movement or noise.
"I brought her," West whispers. "She's
here." He looks back at me—an invitation. And the man in the bed... my
brother... makes a small noise in his throat.
Whatever held me at the doorway breaks, and I hurry
forward. "Kade," I whisper, bending over him. For the first time in
my memory, I see his face—his face that looks like mine—only ashen and pale. I
know that face so well, those eyes that struggle to focus on me. "I'm
here," I'm saying, again and again. "I'm here. I won't leave
you." And my tears drop onto the blankets as I sit on the side of the
bed, taking up his cold, cold hands and rubbing my fingers over his lifeless
ones.
His grey, cracked lips smile at me weakly. "I knew
you'd come," he whispers, the words muffled by his tongue sticking to the
roof of his mouth. Then he closes his eyes for a long moment as if even that
simple phrase took all the energy out of him.
He's going to die
, I think, tears running in rivulets
down my face.
He's definitely dying.
Kade opens his eyes again, looking at my forehead. "I
didn't think it was true," he murmurs. "You don't remember me."
I shake my head and nod, unable to decide which to do.
"I remember you," I sniffle. "I
know
you." My
hands go to his face, smoothing his hair back. "You're my brother.
You'll always be my brother."
