His smug smile deepened. “Why not just rip my heart out?”
“I would, but you don’t have one,” Myra spat. I’ve never seen her so serious, so deadly.
He chuckled. “You may want to take that back. I have a feeling that we will be working together more. It’s time to focus. They are near.”
Myra and Eric nodded to each other and then turned to stand toward the expectant army.
The sunset was extraordinarily bright; I couldn’t see past its brightness. In the horizon, silhouettes levitated. “Whoa, it is an army,” I muttered to myself. I looked down at Myra; she was poised to attack, just like earlier. She did not appear to be worried or frightened. I was worried and frightened for her. I was worried and terrified for her in every way beyond possible. I wanted to grab her and take her back to reality with me, far from this nightmare.
Myra jumped into the air, flipping the sword above her head. My heart stopped. I woke up, panting.
“Myra is fine. She’ll take them down easy enough,” Demien said.
“It was just a dream, right?” I looked at him in terror.
His laugh was dry and concentrated. “They are very rarely just dreams, Vessi.” He was looking at the road, his hand gripped tightly on the steering wheel, his eyes intense.
“Oh…” I replied. I fidgeted in the leather seat. My throat was swollen and dry.
“Water is behind me,” Demien softly voiced. “Aspirin, too.” “You always become fidgety when you’re thirsty,” he offered, cryptically.
“I don’t think you have seen me thirsty,” I argued.
He didn’t look my way. “I’ve seen you thirsty more times than I can count.”
I just looked at him in awe but didn’t bother with elaborations. Prying details out of him was a useless waste of time. I reached behind his seat and grabbed a bottle. “Thanks. Want one?” I mumbled.
“No, thanks.” He looked at me and then back to the road.
I sat quietly, not knowing what to say or think. Tears began to fill my eyes. My best friend, who was a toothpick, was out fighting God knows what. I was sitting next to my “soul mate,” who seems to know everything I was thinking, or at least, was a very good guesser. My sister...
“Shannon… Where is Shannon?” I asked in a panic.
“She’s okay.”
“Where is she?”
“With a friend.” He was scratching his thumb along his forehead, which meant there were things he wasn’t telling me.
“A friend,” I repeated, in a whisper.
I didn’t understand any of this. A dream… this must be a really messed up dream, more like a nightmare.
“No, this isn’t a dream, I wish it were.” I heard Demien whisper to my thoughts. “Take the aspirin. You will feel much better.”
I took the aspirin as directed. I didn’t know what to say. I was very scared for Myra, my sister and myself. I didn’t know what was going on, nor did I know why. This was all crazy. It was a dream. It had to be. “What happens next?” I managed to ask.
“Well,” he exhaled audibly. “I’m going to take you to your sister. Then I’ll catch up with Myra.
“My sister is safe?”
“Yes, as will you be.”
“Then take me to Myra,” I demanded. “I’m taking her with me.”
“I don’t think so,” he said, distracted. He was looking out of the windshield into the sky.
“You have to,” I was yelling at him. I felt so out of control, so helpless. Demien seemed so calm. “How can you be so calm?”
Pulling off onto a dark, gravel road, he chose not to answer. He put his hand on my neck and massaged a little. With every stroke, the intensity of the pain lessened. I looked down to see my wounds healing.
Twenty-Four
Myra Sparks
I’ve always considered myself a very normal girl. When I was in kindergarten, my main worry consisted of getting a hold of the dark green crayon before anyone else took it. I could always count on my best friend, Vanessa. She was always in line for the supplies first. She would carefully choose her favorite color of the day, not forgetting to grab the darkest green she could find for me. When I was in sixth grade, my main worry was wondering if my breasts were ever going to grow. The most popular girl in school, Jennifer Rumsfeld, was already wearing a bra. I was not. High school brought on a whole new set of troubles; boys, a social life, and the dream of one day getting out of this crappy small town of Chadwick, Oklahoma. As far as small towns go, I’m sure this one isn’t all that bad. We have too many social events to count in each year, so it keeps life rockin’. As an adult, my concerns had been working, shopping and, of course, men. The latter two, I swear, are God’s gift to women.
Then there is my best friend, Vanessa. We grew up together. Our mothers were best friends. Our older sisters are best friends. It’s only natural we would be best friends too. We have a typical friendship. Growing up, our families always teased us about being twins. We have always been extremely close, could read each other’s thoughts and were very in tune with each other’s feelings. I somehow always know when she’ll call before the phone rings. We are so in sync to each other that when she is on her way I’m somehow magically ready when she gets here, as if I knew before I woke up that she would be coming over. When one hurts, we both hurt.
Several years ago, I was on vacation with my mom and sister, our annual girl’s-only vacation. We went to Florida. I had begged Vanessa to come. I
