He told me to picture somewhere I felt safe. But what if I’m not taking us to locations exactly? What if I’m moving us in a gravitational pull to the people I love? Uncle Niles. My mom and dad. What if they are my beacons?
We head north, jogging over dead trees, thorned vines, and crunchy foliage. My vision is cloudy, and it constantly feels like I’m falling. I need at least three days of rest. Lots of water. Food. Something to combat this hangover.
“He doesn’tbelongto anyone.”
A low, thundering voice shatters the peaceful forest ambiance. Interrupting the rustling of leaves, hooting of owls, and symphony of crickets. I heard that voice at the ball. At the hunter’s trap in the woods. I don’t know it well, but my mother does. And it is unforgettable.
“Fuck,” I utter, bringing Niklaus and I to a complete stop.
Two stags looking down the length of an arrow.
And we’ve come face-to-face with my parents. Wet hair. Conformist’s dress. White patient uniform. The moonlight glimmers in a halo over Mom’s golden, wavy hair. They hesitate in front of us, pausing their strides to examine our sudden appearance in front of them.
I can’t believe it’s them! I’m standing in front of my parents over two decades in the past. It’s really them. They’re looking at me. He’s looking at me. Dark brown eyes bounce between Niklaus and I, shifting to study our appearances, and only taking half a second to come to his own conclusion.
As his eyes land on me again, a weight sinks in my chest. A feeling that ages me backward fifteen years. It both makes me want to cry for hours or grow hot with anger. I could scream in his face, cower, or bring my hand over my mouth and sob at the sight of him.
His attention landing on me, then Niklaus, then back to me again is something I’ve dreamed about. A happening that I would wonder how it would make me feel. But I didn’t expect to feel so small, so powerless. A terrifying ache in my blood as he glowers down at me like an insect that must be stepped on.
“What’s your business here, friend?” my father asks, directing his attention to Niklaus.
There’s a violence in his stillness as he waits for a response.
Niklaus looks to me for help, but I have no words for him. I’m stunned into silence. I’m hanging on to the small mannerisms of my father’s presence. The way he stares without blinking. His confident stance. How he stands in front of my mother out of a natural instinct to protect.
A lump forms in my throat and my chest burns.
“Going for a late-night hike, sir. How about the two of you?” If Niklaus is scared, you wouldn’t be able to tell from his tone.
But Niklaus grew up with the same stories, legends, and lore that I did. He’s heard the gruesome stories of the things Patient Thirteen has done to protect those he loves. And right now, we pose an immediate threat to the love of his life.
He thinks we’ve been following them.
My father’s stern glare drowns us with suspicion. It dawns on me that Niklaus says we were out for a hike…dressed like this.
“Mmm-hmm, yes, I can see that. Tell me, is hiking in a ball gown and tuxedo a new trend I’m unaware of?” Patient Thirteen asks, eyes cold and hard in the trickle of moonlight spilling through the trees.
I dart my eyes to my mother for help. Because, well, how the fuck are we going to get out of this one? But Mom looks just as suspicious of that statement.
In my periphery, I see Niklaus glance to me for assistance. Before I can come up with a response to help save our asses, my father jerks forward, snatching Niklaus by the throat and lifting him off the ground with ease. I’m stunned into silence as a gasp gets lost in my throat. Niklaus is by no means light. He’s not as broad and muscular as my father, but he comes pretty close.
“Who are you?!” Patient Thirteen growls, pinning Niklaus to a tree.
Niklaus tries to speak, but his words are masked by the sounds of choking. My father curls his finger into a space by Niklaus’s carotid artery appearing to be his vagus nerve. It causes a sudden drop in heart rate, loss of muscle control, and disorientation. Otherwise, Niklaus wouldn’t so easily be overpowered like this.
But again, this is Patient Thirteen.
And he is living up to his name.
After a few long, agonizing seconds of listening to Niklaus fight for his life, for a single gasp of breath, I know my father is absolutely capable of killing him. Unless I act quickly.
“We came to have sex in the woods!” I scream, panting against the anxiety attack rattling loose in my chest. My eyes swell with a warm flood of tears. It takes me biting my tongue and cutting my fingernails into my palms to keep the urge to cry at bay. “Leave him alone! We just wanted privacy away from my parents!”
My father slides his murderous gaze down to me. The weight it carries crushes my insides. And all I want to do is hug him. Tell him it’s me. His daughter.
Reluctantly, Patient Thirteen lowers Niklaus to the ground, but his eyes don’t lose their fire. The suspicious hesitation tells me he thinks we’re spies from Demechnef.
“You’re too young to get caught up in this world,” Dessin says, turning to me with a warning in his tone. “I will spare your lives once. Do not run into me a second time.”
