Half an hour to go…
Who I Am
THE GRANDFATHER CLOCK CHIMED. TEN forty-five.
We sat around the dining table. The torch was our centrepiece, creating a path of light over the table and directly to the patio doors.
Any form of conversation had declined from polite, to occasional, to non-existent. My brothers and I sat like waxworks. Caicus stared at Marco. Marco stared at me. I stared at my hands. Rose, however, fidgeted like a hyperactive kitten. She crossed and uncrossed her legs, and chewed on a strand of hair. She looked at all of us. But none of us looked at her.
The rain lashed down outside and the wind shook the glass doors. This was menacing weather if ever I saw it. The demon was waking up from nap time, and he was letting everyone know he was cranky.
I listened to the tick of the pendulum as it swung mechanically back and forth. My breath fell into sync with it. Breathing away the seconds.
Breathing away her life… or mine.
Without shifting my gaze, I reached under the table and entwined my hand with Rose’s. Her warm fingers tightened around mine.
I saw Marco fold his hands on the table.
Oscar, he said, only perceptible to mine and Caicus’s ears. Are you ready?
I flinched. No, I replied.
Marco’s eyebrows knotted together. Then get ready, he hissed silently. You must be the one to do this. She only trusts you.
And that’s exactly why I can’t do it. Please, Marco, I beseeched him, understand that, at least.
Pathetic, Marco scoffed.
My teeth clenched.
I understand, Caicus jumped to my defence. I’ll do it.
No. She will be suspicious of you, Marco shot him down. This must go smoothly. It has to be Oscar.
I will not give her poison, I denied him point blank. I would sooner die.
I’ll do it, Caicus repeated. There’s no need for it to be Oscar. She won’t be suspicious. She won’t expect him to sit back while she drinks poison.
That stung.
The clock struck the eleventh hour. I held my breath as the eleven chimes began their fatal melody.
Marco slid a half-full crystal brandy glass to Caicus.
Now, he ordered.
Caicus lifted the glass. The murky brown liquid sloshed around in its crystal confines. When the torch light hit it, its hue looked almost coppery. If I didn’t know any better, I would have thought it truly was brandy in the glass.
I felt sick.
One in exchange for many. One in exchange for many. One in exchange for many… How many times did I need to drill that into my mind before I actually gave a damn?
I must have squeezed Rose’s hand a touch too hard, because her fingers squirmed in discomfort.
“Drink this,” Caicus said aloud, passing the glass to Rose.
She looked at me for confirmation. “What is it?” she asked.
I couldn’t speak.
“An elixir,” Caicus replied vaguely.
“What will it do?” She examined the liquid warily. Rightly so.
Caicus swallowed. He didn’t dare look at me. “It will protect you.”
I didn’t know what the hell was happening, but I started to wheeze and pant for breath. It was as though someone was wringing the air out of my lungs. I began to tremble, too. Uncontrollably and violently. I gripped the table, but that only made it shake along with me.
“Oscar!” Marco barked. “Get a hold of yourself!”
“Oscar,” Rose gasped. She set the glass down and coiled her fingers over my hands. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing’s wrong,” Marco snapped. “He’s fine. Aren’t you, Oscar?”
I nodded my head—although I imagined that was part of my general convulsions.
“Drink,” Marco turned his authority onto Rose. “Drink now. Lathiaus will be rising. We don’t have time to waste.”
Rose slipped her hands away from mine.
“What will it taste like?” she whispered, blissfully unaware.
I met her eyes. “I don’t know,” I choked.
“Will it be bad?”
I shook my head, gripping the edge of the table until my grasp almost dented the wood.
Rose gave me one final look before raising the glass to her lips.
The three of us watched through three very different outlooks. Marco hunched forward like a baying beast, vibrant with expectation. Caicus shrank back, his hands balled into fists. Me? Well, I quaked off the Richter scale.
I prepared to enact the most important moment of my life.
To be perfectly clear, what I was about to do was neither wrong nor right. It was just, plain and simple, what I chose to do. Deep down I never doubted that this would be my decision, because, quite frankly, I couldn’t live my life—however short or long—knowing that I had not done it. For it was, and forever will be, the greatest and proudest moment of my life. This moment would define not only who I was, but more importantly, who I would become from that second on.
I knew that some people would deem my choice the wrong one, but I would tell anyone, hand on heart, that I was damn glad I did it.
In one motion, I swooped in and switched off the torch, then struck my arm out like a snake, knocking the glass from Rose’s hand. It hurtled across the room and smashed against the patio doors in an explosion of crystal.
“No!” Marco bellowed. He lunged across the table and dived on top of me.
My chair skidded backwards and thumped against the wall. I toppled to the floor and my head smacked against the mahogany cabinets.
Dazed, I heard the scuffle of Rose leaping up.
“What’s going on?” she cried. “What was in the glass?” There was a frantic quaver in her voice.
I staggered to my feet. “Run!” I shouted to Rose. “It was poison.”
Marco roared. I couldn’t see all that well in the dark, but I wouldn’t have been surprised if his chest ruptured out of his shirt, Hulk style. Anyway, what I did see was him lifting the dining room table and hurling it at us.
I jumped in front of Rose and used my arm to shield us from the airborne table.
But my arm only took the brunt of it, because the impact still knocked us both down to the floor.
We were trapped now. The overturned table had us captive against the wall. And to make matters worse, Marco’s boot smashed through the thick, varnished wood. I dodged it by a fraction of an inch.
“You were going to kill me,” Rose wept.
I had no defence.
“You lied to me, all this time.” She was really sobbing now. “How could you?”
“I can explain,” I said. But it sounded weak. It was the sort of thing people said when they had no justification. Unfortunately, now was hardly the time to have a deep and meaningful.
Marco’s fist came through the table.
In the darkness, I could just about make out the shadow of the adjoining kitchen door. Before I’d even had a chance to think it through, I shoved Rose through the table legs and sent her in the direction of our only escape route.
She clambered out.
And that was the last I saw of her.
Sealed
MARCO’S FIST POUNDED WILDLY AGAINST the upturned table. Sometimes the force split the wood, other times it just dented it. I pressed myself flat to the dining room cabinets, dodging the blows.
So, Marco was going to kill me. Tear me limb from limb, probably. Okay. That wouldn’t be as bad as it sounded. I mean, if not Marco, then Lathiaus. Either way I’d be dead by midnight, so who really cared how it happened? I’d probably put up a good fight, too—with Marco, at least.
But there was one slight problem. The sooner Marco finished with me, the sooner he’d move on to Rose. And she wouldn’t stand a chance. I had to get her out of Millwood.
I glanced to the adjoining doorway. I could make it. Marco was so enraged that I still had a few more minutes of random destruction before he really went in for the kill. The thing w
as, though, that the moment I left that room, I’d be gone. No turning back. I had an hour to live, and I would spend that time getting Rose as far away as possible. That meant away from Marco and Caicus. Hence, I’d never see Caicus again.
In my life, I’d tended to go by three primary emotions: happy, sad and angry. I wasn’t sure what they called the one that was sadder than sad, but I was it. It made my eyes sting and my chest burn. I’d betrayed my brother. I’d killed my brother.
I fumbled my way through the table legs and staggered to the door.
“I’m sorry, Caicus,” I choked, suspended somewhere between them and her.
I couldn’t see him, but his boot smashed through the table.
“Go to hell, Oscar,” he seethed.
With my head bowed, I squeezed through the doorway and burst out into the hall. I didn’t have long, but I didn’t need long. I ran from the manor, grabbing everyone’s car keys from the porch hook as I went. If I was driving us out of there, I could do without tailgaters.
In seconds, I was in the Lamborghini, the engine hissing to life. It felt good to be back in the low-set, leather driver’s seat. The past few weeks, Caicus and I had kept up the façade that something was wrong with our baby. What a joke! As if I would have let anything happen to her. I lovingly fondled the steering wheel.
With my trigger-happy foot poised on the accelerator, raring to go, I closed my eyes and thought of Rose, bringing her whereabouts to my consciousness. I heard her voice in my mind, I saw her smile, and the olive colour of her eyes…
And then I saw her, stumbling down the access road, drenched, shivering and scared.
I slammed my foot down and the car ripped down the path. The torrential rain obscured the windscreen, but it didn’t hinder me. I found her.
I skidded to a stop, the back wheels sliding across the mud until I was facing Rose, blocking her path.
I stepped out of the car, into the icy wind and rain.
“Oscar,” she said my name.
“Come with me,” I called. My eyes narrowed at her expression. She looked at me with such coldness. Of course she was angry, but there was no time for resentment. I had to get her into the car and out of Millwood.
“Get in the car,” I appealed through gritted teeth. She didn’t move. “You are so… stubborn.”
“How could you do this to me?” she cried, exposing her fragile heart to me.
I moved forward, closing the gap between us.
“I didn’t.”
Damn, that was a weak response.
“Yes, you did!”
I ran my hands over my face. “Get in the car, Rose,” I raised my voice, kicking the ground in frustration.
She didn’t budge.
“Get in the car,” I tried again, “or you will be killed.”
I glanced in the direction of the manor, not that we could see it from there. All we saw were the winding walls of evergreens. If Marco was coming for us, we wouldn’t know it until it was too late.
Then Rose looked at me. Even in the darkness I could see her eyes, as green as emeralds and warm with spirit. Rain spilt over her skin, and I wanted to offer my jacket to cover her bare arms.
“Trust me,” I begged.
But she had no trust left for me. I supposed I didn’t blame her.
“Trust me,” I kept on at her, reaching out now. I willed her to take my hand.
“No!”
This was impossible. She was so mad at me. Everyone was. Well, maybe I was on my own then. Maybe she was, too. If she was stubborn enough to refuse my help, what more could I have done?
“Then you will die,” I said to her. Harsh, I knew, but true.
I paced back to the car, climbing into my seat and slamming the door shut.
I flipped on the headlights. Now I could see her, but she couldn’t see me. I was glad of that. It meant that I could hide the pain on my face. She could hate me if she wanted. And, hell, let her think I hate her, too.
I revved the engine and tore off down the road.
Goodbye, Millwood. Good riddance. I hope you choke on my dust.
I swear, I got about one hundred yards before I slammed on the brakes and got back out of the car.
So much for my tough talking. And it had been going so well.
I ran down the path, back to Rose. My clothes were already soaked and clammy against my body.
“Rose!” I called. “Be mad at me if you want, but please let me help you.”
She stood trembling, tears and rain flowing freely over her face.
“You were going to kill me,” she whispered.
I grabbed her hands. “I never would have killed you,” I avowed wholeheartedly to her. “Things just got so complicated. There’s something I didn’t tell you about the prophecy. It’s us or you. The line of witches or you. It was never possible for both of us to survive.”
A small breath escaped from her lips. “So, either I die or you die?”
I nodded. “Yes. And I want you to live. I always want you to live.”
“But… you?” She threw her arms around me. “I don’t want you to die!” Her wet hair clung to my cheek.
“I don’t mind. I’ve lived my life the way I wanted to.” The wind howled so loudly that it almost drowned out my words. “And if I die saving you, then that’s a pretty damn good ending.”
Now, the next instant brought about the greatest thing anyone could ever wish for, in their final hour or otherwise.
Rose kissed me.
She kissed me! Right there, in the middle of a demonic storm. Who said romance was dead, eh?
It was strange how familiar her kiss was; it was as though I’d felt it a thousand times before. Obviously I kissed her back. And I didn’t plan on stopping, either. Incidentally, all of that running didn’t seem so imperative anymore. Marco who?
But luckily for us, Rose had the sense to stop. And while I stood around all gooey- eyed, she went all proactive on me. She took my hand and hauled me into the forest.
Interesting. I was so deliriously happy that I didn’t particularly care where I was going. Though, the downfall to this was, I didn’t have the brains to concoct a more level-headed plan, either.
We kept pacing, deeper and deeper into the evergreens. Somewhere in my awareness, I knew where she was leading me.
“Rose,” I said, “we need to get out of Millwood.”
She paid me no attention. “Look!” she cried.
The tree house.
I considered talking her out of it, but she was already scrambling up the rope ladder. I didn’t have the resolve to fight her on this. In fact, I didn’t really have the resolve to fight anyone on anything at the moment. So, with no fortitude but plenty of contentment, I hoisted myself up after her.
Oh, yeah. I remembered this. Dingy, damp and rotting. And yet I associated it with the greatest night of my life. Simple pleasures.
We huddled against the wall, shivering. It was dark and we were soaked through, but at least we were sheltered and together, which was enough for me.
Rose drew in several shallow breaths.
“Are you okay?” I asked.
“You’re not going to die,” she stated.
I pulled her closer to me. “Not before Marco, anyhow,” I quipped.
“Not before anyone,” she amended.
It would have been in my character to correct her on the technical inaccuracy of her comment, but I couldn’t be bothered.
So instead, I said, “Let’s not talk about macabre things.”
She surrendered surprising quickly. Apparently because she had other ideas. She slipped off her shoe and emptied the contents into her lap.
It took me a few seconds to register what was going on.
Not that damn Retracing spell again. The girl’s relentless.
“No,” I groaned.
“Why not?” she implored me.
“Because I don’t know how to do it,” I reminded her. How many times would I have to drum that into her he
ad? “It’s not safe.”
“I don’t care,” she protested. “I’m doing it, with or without you.”
I laughed derisively. “Good luck with that.”
“Thank you,” she said, pretending not to notice my sarcasm.
“Just one small catch, girlie.” I playfully rapped on her skull. “How do you plan on undergoing a witch’s spell when you’re not a… oh, what’s that word again… witch?”
“Well, I’m a something,” she argued.
“Yes. But something just won’t cut it. Unless you have powers, you can forget incantations and rituals. You’ve got no chance.”
“Then you’ll have to help me,” she persisted.
“I wouldn’t be helping you. I’d be putting you in danger.” I rubbed my hand over my brow, sweeping away the droplets of water as they leaked from my hair.
“Please, Oscar.” She was inexorable. “I need your help. I know this is right. You came to my dreams as Oliver, and you tried to warn me. Let me do this. I have to do this.”
I sighed loudly. “Even if I wanted to, I couldn’t. It calls for the root of a yellow flower, and there’s no way either of us is going back outside. Not with Marco on the rampage.”
“Well, it just so happens…” she fumbled around for her shoe treasures.
Oh no.
She waved something around in my line of vision.
“Yellow flower!” she declared.
I sat brooding for a while. Rose continued to twirl the flower before my eyes—which annoyed me greatly.
“Stop being so stubborn,” she jibed.
I spluttered in outrage. “You stop being so stubborn!”
We went back and forth for a few rounds. Ashamedly, I was the one who broke first.
“What if I did it, and the magic is too strong for you?” My willpower was flagging slightly. “You could fall ill, or worse…”
“I’ll risk it.”
“Then you’re a fool.”
She took my hand. “Everything I’ve done since I’ve met you has been a risk. But I don’t regret a single thing.”
I smiled inwardly.
“And I’m not about to stop taking risks now, especially at a time when I need to most of all. I’m going to do this,” she told me, adamantly. “And I’m asking you to stand by me.”