Book II Chapter 10 : SWEET DREAMS (ARE MADE OF THIS)
Lamia’s eyes shot awake, and she immediately brought her wrist to her mouth to wipe away the excess saliva. She was at home, in her bed, and her blessed wedding had been nothing more than a dream.
She looked down at the clock on her nightstand. “Three in the afternoon… I know I like to sleep in, but this is just lazy.”
Sliding out of bed, Lamia walked over to her mirror. When she saw her reflection, she reacted by slamming her palms against her dresser. “Why do I have a handlebar mustache!?”
Someone rapped at her door, and after a moment of hesitation Kali walked inside, her forehead adorned with a black lightning bolt and the outlines of glasses rims surrounding her eyes. The young blond gave one look at Lamia and laughed. “Very dandy of you.”
“Better take a look at yourself, first.”
Confused, Kali hopped in front of Lamia’s mirror and felt slightly embarrassed. “I definitely don’t remember going to bed lookin’ like this.”
“Well, I don’t remember going to bed, period.”
“You too, huh?” Kali made faces at herself in the mirror. “The whole house is quiet. Five bucks says we aren’t the only ones with sleep in our eyes and marker on our faces.”
Lamia scratched her head, feeling like there was something she needed to remember. “Didn’t we go to Maya’s place? I think we wanted to talk to her about something…”
“Beats me. I had the strangest dream, though. I dreamt I was chased by a giant medicine cabinet hocking pills at me, but at the end an anthropomorphic strawberry saved my life and we did extreme skateboarding until I woke up. It was pretty bad-ass.”
A strawberry? Why did that sound familiar, Lamia wondered. “Have you seen Arma around?”
Kali groaned. “Oh yeah, I saw her early this morning sneaking around downstairs in a pair of sweats, looking like she thought she was Rocky Balboa or something.” Kali jumped off the bed and started imitating a boxer’s moves; she kept her fists up and occasionally jabbed at Lamia’s bedpost, which shook the overhead canopy.
“Hey, cut that out!” Lamia grabbed at Kali’s wrists and tried to steady the young spitfire’s hands, which she noticed were covered in some sort of dirt. She brought the younger girl’s hands closer to her face and sniffed, and a familiar aroma told her this wasn’t dirt at all.
Chocolate. Something about the sweet smell of chocolate triggered a response in Lamia, and images suddenly appeared in her mind. Medicine? A tearoom? Cake? Saucers? Strawberries…
“Maya.” Lamia stood. Now she was certain Maya was somehow responsible for her midday nap. “Kali, thank you so much for being a sloppy eater!”
Kali blushed as Lamia gave her chocolaty hands a quick squeeze. “N…No problem…”
After washing her face, Lamia grabbed her coat and ran downstairs. She needed to find Arma, and she prayed her memories would return to her in time. Now, more than ever, she feared Maya was not trustworthy.
Within an hour of Lamia’s departure, the other members of the house had slowly begun to wake up. With the exception of Neiva, who remained in her room snoring so loudly she couldn’t hear the confusion going on outside her bedroom door.
Ora giggled as she poured herself a glass of orange juice. “Does she snore this loudly every night?”
Vesta, whose room is right next to Neiva’s, nodded. “Oh yes, every night. Every night…” Of the girls, Vesta was the only one who didn’t say she felt refreshed after her nap. On the contrary, she seemed rather agitated and was desperately searching the kitchen cabinets for something.
“What are you looking for?” asked Ora.
“Oh… I can’t find my big soup pot. You know, the big one with the handles.”
Maris, who had just come back in from scrubbing a stippled beard from her chin, snapped her fingers. “Didn’t you take that over to the boys’ house? I think you used it to cook the stew in.”
“Oh, pooh! I was going to make a batch of strawberry jam…”
Maris raised her eyebrow. “Why?”
Kali, who had moved from the table to lying on the floor in front of the refrigerator, nodded in approval. “You know, I had a dream about strawberries…”
“Kali,” Maris said, her tone grave. “Aren’t you going to wash your face?”
“Nope,” the little blond responded. “I think I look pretty spiffy.”
After staring at the newest member to her team, Maris couldn’t shake the feeling she had something to apologize for. When Kali took notice, Maris quickly turned her gaze away. “Want me to swing by and get your pot? I need to start looking for a new part-time job today, anyway. You know, thanks to some kelp-headed, soulless, blue-eyed mogul who thinks he’s better than everyone!”
Ora shrugged. “I think Paul’s nice.”
“You don’t know He-who-shall-not-be-named the way I do…” Maris’s eyes lit up. “That’s right! Vesta, you and I gotta go shopping for our vengeance dresses!”
Vesta, who had been composing a shopping list, was surprised to suddenly hear her name come up. “Our what?”
“You know, for my big revenge plot. You have to get something for Clement, of course, but I need to get a sexy pair of heels that’ll drive Paul wild. He’ll be frothing at the mouth, begging me for a ticket to ride the Maris-Go-Round, but I’ll just look him in the eyes and say ‘sorry, mister, you’re too old for this ride’.”
“Isn’t he around Neiva’s age?” thought Ora.
Maris’s eyes narrowed. “Ora, do you want to help me out or not?”
“M-Me?”
“Well, duh!” Maris said, her hands on her hips. “You can go to his house for us, get the pot, and be all super sneaky and ask him what kind of clothes he likes his dates to wear. Short skirts? Long skirts? Slit skirts? Whatever, just ask him what he likes. Oh, and boobs or ass, that’s important too.”
Ora looked at Vesta pleadingly, but Vesta had to agree with Maris on at least one count. “I do have some shopping to do today, so it would be a big help if you could get the pot for me.”
“What about me?” asked Kali, raising her hand. “What can I do?”
Maris groaned. “You can wash that stupid marker off your face.”
Ora shivered under her jacket as she walked along the sidewalk leading to her project partner’s house. She wasn’t sure why exactly, but she was kind of excited to see Innocent on a weekend. What kind of clothes did he wear outside of school? Which of his brothers would be home? Innocent was a strange little guy, but after having a new lease on life, she realized she was very interested in befriending her partner. She was going to make more friends at school, work hard at cheerleading, and things were going to be different.
A soft chirping got her attention and she looked up, smiling. “Sounds like the baby robins are hungry!”
“Ora?”
Ora dropped her head and saw a man walking toward her. “Paul! Good afternoon! I was just on my way to your house.”
Paul Montgomery fluffed up his muffler and gave Ora a concerned look. “Oh, I’m sorry, Innocent isn’t home right now. He and the boys went to go see a movie together.”
“Oh.” Ora’s disappointment was clearly reflected in her voice. “Well, actually, I was just going to pick up a pot we left behind.”
After taking a moment to think it over, Paul pulled a key from his pocket and handed it to Ora. “Just slide it under the doormat when you’re finished.”
Ora at first refused the key, but Paul insisted. “I trust that petite body of yours won’t allow you to make off with my big-screen television. Just remember to lock the front door when you’re done, and mind your manners, as I know you will.”
He started to leave when Ora remembered she had promised to do Maris’s field research. “Um… wait! I, uh, I was just wondering…”
Paul turned around. “Yes?”
“Do… do you like… um… breasts or butts?”
Paul stared at the younger girl, whose face was as red as an apple, as a pair of leaves skidded across the sidewalk. “Pardon?”
Ora gulped. “Breasts, or… butts…”
“Oh. Butts, definitely.”
Nodding her head, Ora continued. “And uh… if your date was wearing a skirt, what kind would it be?”
“A kilt.”
Ora thanked Paul before running off in the direction of Innocent’s house. Now he thinks I’m a freak…
Panting from her long run, Ora took out the little bronze key and slipped it under the doorknob. It clicked, she pushed, and the elaborately decorated door swung open. She tentatively placed one foot inside before quickly withdrawing it again. Even though she had permission from the owner of the house to go inside, she still felt like she was breaking in.
After another minute of worrying and feeling guilty, Ora walked inside and closed the door, then bolted for the kitchen. She wanted to get in, get the pot, and get out as quickly as possible.
Ora was just about to leave when she suddenly heard the sound of a door close. It seemed to be coming from upstairs, but Paul had said that the others were out seeing a movie. Had they come back already?
Ora set the pot down and slowly made her way up the stairs. She stopped at a small mirror to adjust her hair and then bounded up the steps wondering who it could be. Maybe Innocent was back early. Whoever it was, she wanted to let them know she had been inside their home, as it seemed rude not to announce her presence even with Paul’s allowance.
“Hello?” she called out before knocking on Innocent’s door. There was no response, and Ora figured it must have been either Leo or Clement. She looked down the hall and saw the bedroom door at the very end was slightly ajar. “Leo? Clement? It’s me, Ora Abercorn…”
She continued down the hall until she thought she heard voices. All kinds of voices, like the voices heard on radio. “Hello?”
Reaching the door, Ora peeked inside. The room was dark except for a few flashing lights, and the source voices turned out to be six analog television sets set one on top of the other. One showed a Western, one played a commercial for vacuums, one had cartoons; the television sets seemed to be set to random channels, stacked so they were arching over another collection of monitors. Old computer monitors lined the corner of the room, and on the opposite end sat a pile of mixing boards, keyboards, electrical wires, and even a microwave oven. As her eyes adjusted to the dark, she realized a large, black swivel chair had been positioned in front of the wall of displays. As her ears adjusted to the audio from the TV, a faint tapping sound slowly caught Ora’s attention.
The typing stopped.
She wasn’t alone.
“Who are you?” The voice was very quiet, nearly a whisper.
Ora’s body froze. Whoever it was, Ora didn’t recognize their voice. “I’m… I’m…”
“Get out!” hissed the voice, and as it did the six television screens all went to static. The roar from the snowy noise of the analog sets caused Ora to yelp as she scooted away from the door.
“I’m sorry, I’m sorry!” she apologized, straining her voice to reach above the stormy TVs. As she shuffled her feet away, her ankle twisted and she lost her balance. She cried out as she faced forward and suddenly collided against a hard, fleshy surface. She fell to her rear, and pulled a damp towel off of her head.
The towel had belonged to a dripping-wet man in his early twenties, with long, raven hair that flopped over his back and forehead in stringy segments. His eyes were a pale golden color, and Ora was horrified to find his lean, muscular body was covered in etchings, bruises, and self-administered tattoos. But even more disturbingly, it appears Ora had grabbed his towel during the fall, and the freshly scrubbed nether regions of the black and blue man were on proud display for thirteen-year-old Ora.
“AIYEEE!!!”
Julius, completely unfazed, watched as Ora, screaming, ran down the hallway, zipped down the stairs, grabbed the pot and threw the key inside, leaving the front door behind her wide open as she fled from a sight she shouldn’t have had to see for at least another five years.
“Who was that?”
Julius looked over his shoulder as a dark-skinned boy of about seventeen stepped out from the darkened room filled with electronics. “I thought she was a friend of yours, Urban.” He laughed, realizing how that sounded. “As if you have friends…”
The younger boy adjusted his glasses, but added nothing to the conversation beyond a muffled “Mmm.”
Bending over to pick up his towel, Julius headed back into the bathroom to style his hair. “We’ve got patrol tonight. Don’t forget.”
Urban’s pink eyes flashed. “Mmm.”
Arma blinked, rubbed her eyes, and sat up. She was surrounded by trees, cold and bare of any foliage, in a gray atmosphere unfamiliar to her. At the sound of a twig snapping underneath her own weight, Arma jumped. How had she ended up in a forest? Was she near the school? No, this place felt different. It was cold and deserted, with a fierce wind ripping through the trees that caused the leaves around her feet to stir as she stood, fighting her way through the branches and brambles, which tugged at her clothing so viciously.
Thorns scratched at her legs as dead limbs reached down and pulled her hair, but she continued forward. The wind howled, blowing dirt into her eyes so that she had to shut them. When she opened them again, a silver light had appeared to pave the way to the grim forest’s exit. There, in the clearing, a field just as gloomy as the forest stretched out before her as another wind sent leaves beating against her face. Reflexively, Arma grabbed for the leaves, catching a few between her fingertips. But when she looked down at her hands, she realized the forest had not been littered with dead and fallen leaves.
“Butterfly wings?” Arma asked aloud to no one in particular. The blue and black speckled wings fluttered in her grasp, the sad remains of several poor butterflies. One managed to wiggle free and floated to the ground, where it briefly rested before the next breeze carried it away.
Somewhat disturbed by this imagery, Arma released the soft remains and ran forward. She knew exactly where she was now.
“Little girl!” she shouted at the top of her lungs.
She was answered with the usual, eerie giggle she’d come to associate with the child. “Arma! It’s been so long!”
“It took me a while, but I figured out where I was.”
The little girl with silver hair appeared before Arma and bowed, her long curls bobbing as they touched the hard ground, before running over to Arma and giving her legs an affectionate squeeze. “I’ve missed you sooo much! But things were going so well, I didn’t want to interrupt!”
Arma was used to the almost incoherent way of speaking the little girl employed and no longer tried to decipher her speech. Usually. “If you’re here, does that mean I did something wrong?”
The little girl shook her head. “Nope! I just missed you, ‘s’all!”
“Oh, yeah?”
She grinned. “I didn’t have anyone to play with.” The little girl laughed before plopping herself down on the ground, where she used her tiny fingers to pluck a long silvery strand of hair from her head. She proceeded to take a few of the butterfly wings that littered the ground and, as if making a necklace, strung them onto her strand of hair, singing to herself as she did this.
Recognizing the tune as the one she often played on the piano, Arma grit her teeth, but tried to remain calm as the child continued to poke holes though the butterfly wings.
“Arma, Arma, Arma…. You’ve always been so nice to me. My only friend, Arma, Arma…”
Arma sighed. “I barely know you, and I’m pretty sure you barely know me.”
“Nope, nope! I know all about you. I know you better than you know yourself. But don’t worry, you’ll remember! Then it will be just you and me. Just like it used to be.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
The little girl jumped up, brushed off her dress, and presented the necklace of insect remains to Arma. “Here! I think it suits you!”
Arma looked at the butterfly wings in disgust. “What’s wrong with you? That’s a horrible present to give someone…”
After a moment of silence, the girl cocked her head to the side, asking “What do you mean?”
“I feel sorry for these poor, dead butterflies! Why would I want something like this!?”
For the first time since Arma could remember, the little girl’s glowing face grew sullen. “That’s not funny, Arma.”
“It’s not supposed to be! Sorry, but I don’t-“
“Don’t lie to me, Arma!” shouted the child. Throwing the necklace down, the girl’s eyes filled with tears and her tiny body grew tense. “People don’t change! No matter how long it’s been…”
Arma was growing more and more uncomfortable, feeling as though the world around her was shifting, becoming warped by the small girl’s emotions. “I’m sorry, I… I think I need to go…”
“No!”
“It’s just… I’m feeling a little lost, here…”
The girl wiped her face with her long, blue sleeves. “You’re lost?”
“A little. Well, a lot.”
The girl spoke in a soft, shaky voice. “I get it. It’s a game. You’re hiding from me, aren’t you?”
Though their surroundings had stopped moving, the light was growing dim around them. Arma became desperate. “What do you want from me, kid!?”
“I want to find you!” the girl shouted. “Not so long ago, that was what you wanted, too!”
Arma took a step back. It’s true, she had wanted to know who she was before becoming a Guardian, but now she wasn’t sure. She could feel the hairs on her neck stand on end, her body covered in goose bumps. In previous encounters, the fair-skinned child with brown eyes had always seemed in control of Arma’s dreams. But now the girl seemed vulnerable and uncertain. The child had hinted at knowing who Arma really was, but all Arma wanted to do was run away. She was confused and nervous, and the nameless girl’s behavior was making her feel this way.
Then, as the world got so dark Arma could no longer see the forest or field around her, the girl raised her head and shot Arma a look that sent chills down the redhead’s spine. A wicked face that was unbefitting of one so young, with a crooked grin and wide eyes, followed by a laugh that curled Arma’s blood.
“Aarrrmmmmaaaa….” Sang the child. “I know what you really want. In the next dream, I promise… I promise I’ll find…”
A wind blew so suddenly and so forcefully it cut off the girl’s final words, and Arma had to shout to be sure she’d be heard. “I… I can’t hear you!”
The girl suddenly appeared directly in front of Arma’s nose, her body surrounded by a flurry of crinkled butterfly wings, as she spoke between giggles. “Hee-hee… I suggested you hold your breath.”
Arma shot awake as icy cold water drenched her body. She sat up, rubbed her face with her hands, and gasped for air as she recovered from the unexpected wake-up call. Her body shook from the cold as as she coughed, trying to get the water out of her lungs.
An empty metal pale fell to the floor. “I figured it was about time you woke up.”
Arma froze. Without looking up, she knew exactly who had spoken. “What are you going to do with me, Boniface?”
“I had a few ideas.”
The room was unfamiliar to Arma, but she was afraid to lower her guard to look around her for even a second. Her eyes darted up to Boniface, who was leaning against a wall, over to the door, which was behind him, back to him, and down at her own body. She was still wearing her clothes from her match with Boniface at the boxing gym, and her bare legs and arms were lined with goose pimples, the same as her dream. Instead of a dreary forest, she was in a small room sparsely decorated with posters featuring dogs and cats. She was sitting on a desk covered in papers, instead of butterfly wings, and instead of a little girl there was, of course Boniface.
When Arma looked up at the man’s face and watched him place a fresh cigar in his mouth, she noticed something that made the fearsome giant seem almost human to her. His upper lip was split and swollen, and she could not help but grin in spite of her precarious situation. “Did it hurt, Bones?”
Having found a lighter, Boniface clicked the lid and held the flame to his cigar. He looked down at Arma as he inhaled, slowly, waiting until the smoke from his exhalation settled before he responded. “No.”
Arma regretted her pertinent question when Boniface put his hands against the desk Arma was laying on and leaned forward. The small room very quickly filled with smoke as Boniface puffed away. “You should be proud. It’s been a long time since I’ve tasted blood.” He exhaled. “My own, at least.”
Boniface leaned in close, making sure his smoky habit gave Arma a bad taste in her mouth. “But we’re not in the ring anymore. I don’t have to play nice.”
The man inched closer and closer as the murky air filled Arma’s lungs and made her eyes water. She gulped, feeling around the desk with her free hand for scissors, a pen, for anything. She found a stapler, grabbed it, and was about to risk it all when the door behind Boniface clicked open.
The two figures went still. Arma squinted to see through the smoke, to try to make out the newcomer. Was it another Guardian from Boniface’s team? Was she outnumbered?
Slowly, a woman’s silhouette appeared behind the dark smoke, and the mysterious figure spoke with such a heavy drawl Arma had as much trouble understanding her as she did seeing her. “Well, shut mah mouth, Bonesy… Ah reckon you dun picked up a stray.”
As the smoke cleared through the open door, the woman’s face came into view, and upon seeing her doe-like brown eyes, Arma dropped the stapler in astonishment, which landed against the floor with a loud clacking sound. She stared, disbelieving, as the familiar stranger spoke to her.
“Hello there, suga’. Y’all look like ya been rode hard and put up wet, don’cha now.”