I also notice a new faint light around the door buzzing to be seen. The closer I look, I see there is an inscription framing the edges, but I cannot make out the language. I am well read, having to be so with all my work on antique history. But in all my research of places I have been, I have never seen a language written like this.
I look for a knob or anything I might turn to grab leverage on the door. A way to pry it open, but there is nothing. With the now thicker barricade around the green one, I do not know what steps to take next. The secret words continue to flicker like a curse.
I keep trying to look for another way in, but ultimately I am defeated. My excitement wanes to the lowest low. With reluctance, I walk back to the stairway, toying with the ring between my fingers, trying to wrap my head around the connection the ring has to the door and the strange glow it holds within.
Something on the ring pokes me, and I suck my breathinward in the form of a small gasp. I look closely at the ring, and notice something I had not before. The ring has tiny thorns inlaid in it.
They are so small. Unnoticeable at first glance, but that tiny prick was enough to let a minuscule drop of blood spill from my throbbing finger and land on the basement floor. Building in a strange luminescence of its own before vanishing into the concrete floor—a not-so-subtle hint of what my future here holds.
20
THE ARGUMENT
RACINE 1978
As down on my spirits as I was, I was utterly ravenous once coming up the stairs. After all that time in the basement, I realize I hadn’t eaten today—the emptiness now roaring to be noticed. My snack plate left forgotten after looking for Carya, whom I still haven’t found.
I devour leftovers from the night before and make my way to the library, but the soft meowing at the front door has me scrambling to open it. Carya bursts through the door at the first hint of an opening. My heart eases, so very relieved to see her.
I pick her up. Filthy is putting it kindly. Dirt and leaves cling to her orange fur. She hasn’t been outside since we came here, being that I wasn’t sure what animals live in the wild here, and I didn’t want to risk it. So how she got outside, I have no idea.
She even has a faint smell of must and earth emanating from her slinky body, much like the basement I just came from. A cat this dirty should be bathed, but she must read my mind because she darts off before her feet even touch the tile.
The knock on the door is abrupt. Each event today is happening before I can collect myself from the one prior. Opening the dooragain, I find Ry pacing about on the other side. There is a fire in his eyes. An angry, all-consuming fire.
“Is everything alright, Ry?” I ask, getting annoyed that he hasn’t been able to speak a word yet.
“I’ve tried calling,” he bites out. “Where have you been? What is the use of a phone if you don’t answer it?” I have little patience for men who think that people should be at their beck and call, so my annoyance grows.
“I’ve been here. Sleeping,” I say. Trying to diffuse his agitation, I add, “Can you take a minute and just chill out, please? Your aggression is not necessary…like,atall.”
Ry places his hands along the doorway above his head. He closes his eyes, taking a deep breath through his nose. I watch the angst coil out of his body.Much better.
It’s darker out now, and as Ry stands there, I can smell the last bits of warm southern air surround us. Finally calming himself enough, Ry opens his eyes and meets my own.
“I’m sorry, Jade. I was worried, and then I felt…I thought something happened to you,” Ry explains, as a more leveled man emerges.
“It’s OK, but there are few places I could get into trouble around here. I know almost no one, so seriously, you shouldn’t worry.” I say reassuringly. And then with a tilt of my head, I lightly chuckle, “Although, youdidsay the trees themselves are dangerous. I guess they could always swallow me whole.”
I tip the corner of my mouth up, thinking he’d be amused, but the look he shoots me makes it clear he is anything but. OK, no room for jokes today. The headache from earlier still lingers under my temple, making my tolerance for this man, who thinks he can project his illogical worry onto me, almost nonexistent. I try my hardest anyway.
“No, you don’t get it, Jade. You make me feel things. Things I’d rather not,” he confesses.
He makes his way through the door and closes it behind him. He is mere inches from me, and I can’t help but place my hand on hischest, palming his racing heart in my hand. Whatever he has been going through over worrying about me, I can feel there.
I glance up into two eyes that are fierce with fear and angst. Ry tilts his head down and our foreheads meet in a soft understanding.
“Just please answer your phone from now on,” he asks as a nervous plea.
“I’ll do my best, sir.” I can’t object to his worrying, even if it’s a little over the top. I reach my hand up and graze his jaw. The sharp shock that never stops every time I touch him, shoots down my hand and seeps into my being. I can feel his care and his relief that nothing has happened to me.
But something new lies there. Is it hunger, perhaps? A hunger that feels guarded. Too restrained. Building to a head like a predatory bird waiting for the right moment to swoop down to claw its prey.
Before I get too carried away with what I think he feels, I touch my lips to his. A sure way to alleviate this endless mind chatter with a single action. It works.
Ry’s kiss is deep and pressing, like he wants more of me than I can give. It's discomforting. He grabs me closer, rougher, slamming me against the wall in his urgency. My head hitting with a thud. He is brasher than normal, but not unwelcome.
He must’ve bitten my lip—I taste metal as our tongues slide against each other. He grows even wilder once he tastes what I do, and he fists his hand around the band of my sweatpants, pulling them so tight I think they’ll rip.
