8. Salem
Chapter eight
Birds. I almost forgot about their existence. The tiny feathered assholes greet the day so happily with their songs. Their happiness is something I find annoying as I wake from one of the best nights of sleep that I’ve ever had. The noises will take some getting used to, but they at least make me smile as I snuggle deeper into the covers. I try to doze back off since I’m not ready for it to end. Reality is about to set in when it ends, and I will have to face the day. I will have to answer questions about my past and yesterday’s power shift within myself. That sounds rather exhausting.
I close my eyes and realize I can’t put this off despite wanting to. I have to face this thing head-on and can’t ignore them even though I want to. Because let’s face it, I’m the problem. Now two others have fallen into the bullshit that is me and my life. One is because he is technically my father, and the other is helping because of my magic waking something up with the Academy. I should have paid attention to Simon when he was talking about it. It didn’t seem like it was that important at the time. Part of me still doesn’t care, even though I probably should.
With a deep breath, I open my eyes and see the early morning light streaming through the light gray curtains. I throw off the thick comforter and sheet, frowning when I see the blood that now stains the light gray. Guilt gnaws at my gut for ruining something that belongs to Simon. I didn’t even have the energy to climb the stairs, let alone be able to shower. There is no use in worrying about the what-ifs. Today, I will try to be a better house guest. Considering all he’s done for me, it’s the least I can do. I pull the sheet and blanket back onto the bed to hide the blood that stains them slightly. It’s childish, but I don’t want to look at it yet. Flashbacks of the pain from last night enter my mind, and I want to bury it for now.
Someone left a pair of stretchy sweatpants and a gray T-shirt at the end of the bed. A shower will do me good. I look around the room I am in for the first time and notice how bland it is. Everything is shades of gray, from the wood floors to the walls. No pictures or personal touches are lining the walls. Maybe it’s because it is a guest room, but if I had to guess, the rest of the house would be much the same. Everything is generic and bland, appearing ready for anyone to move in.
A door is open, which leads into a tiled bathroom. I flip the light on and gasp when I see myself in the mirror. My hand reaches up to touch my face. I need to be sure that the reflection is me. I continue to step forward towards the vanity and mirror. As I move closer, I see a clearer picture of myself, and my eyes search, trying to find my 13-year-old self in my current self. The blood that is dried and caked around my nose and eyes makes it hard to form a clear assessment of what I see. My eyes used to be brighter. Now, the teal color has additional gold and black specks that flair outward around the pupil. My dark eyelashes only enhance the odd color. These eyes are harder, almost cold. They are no longer one of an innocent child who hated the color pink. My cheekbones are more defined, no longer hidden by the baby fat I couldn’t lose despite my mother’s best efforts. My hair is still the same dark, almost black, with a slight red sheen that seems new. The spell they added to keep my hair under control remains. Each curl seems nearly perfect despite the blood that cakes certain pieces. A lump forms in my throat as I continue to stare at myself.
I snoop through all the drawers until I find a pair of scissors and cut my hair piece by piece until it touches my shoulders, not wanting to see the long hair that I used to be forced to keep. A small smile lights my face when I finish. Next, I remove my hospital scrubs, wanting to see the rest of my body and memorize every scarred imperfection that lines it. I’ve never seen my adult form reflecting at me before, and it’s almost as if I can’t stop until I fully see myself.
My fingers run over every scar and imperfection on my body. I smile and feel proud of how much I have survived. My left shoulder is the worst of them all, which was created because I made a mistake that almost cost me my life. I learned so much from each mistake I made, more so than any victory. My finger traces the surrounding skin that knitted itself back together, making it resemble a spiderweb. The monster’s teeth shredded my shoulder. It was the first monster I had ever faced, and I was awkward and unskilled, but I still ended up victorious. Afterward, they carted me off to Dr. Vic’s lab for more injections before he placed me into the healing cells attached to his lab. A side effect of his injections had caused the skin between the scars on my shoulder to turn a bluish-purple hue.
My fingers move down to the claw marks over my ribs, and plenty of weapons have left their marks from training. I look forward to comparing scars and battle wounds with 203. Deciding I’ve wasted enough time, I walk into the shower and wash away the blood and grime. Showers didn’t happen often in the facility. Only when Dr. Vic couldn’t stand the smell of us anymore. My fingertips scrub my skin vigorously, and I know I’m leaving bruises. My body has never felt more clean as I wrap the fluffy gray towel around my body.
The clothes fit reasonably well, considering they were probably something he had lying around. I cannot picture Simon wearing sweats often. The pants are so long that I must roll them past my ankles to keep them from tripping me as I walk. I am sensing a pattern from Simon, who doesn’t believe in color. My eyes roll, yet a small smile stays on my lips. I am thankful because, from what they said last night, Marcus was on his way to finish the job. Well, not Marcus. He probably sent his lackeys to do his dirty work for him. Marcus doesn’t want to bloody his own hands, exactly like before. He hoped that the facility would have killed me long ago.
I open the bedroom door, walk down the stairs, and turn into the living room. Everything is cleaned up from last night. Everything from the white couch to the carpeted floor, there isn’t a drop of blood or a spec of dirt to be found. My eyes are drawn to the spot where I convulsed last night. “That’s not how it works!” Simon’s voice pulls me from my thoughts.
I shake off the heavy thoughts and turn to see the kitchen that attaches to the living room. Simon and Constantine are sitting opposite each other on a center counter-height island. Simon looks like he is about to scream at Constantine. They both hold coffee cups in their hands. Constantine leans his dark head towards Simon, his back facing away from me. “Oh, come on, Garnet! Hit me again with an awake spell.”
Simon lets out an exasperated breath, gripping his coffee cup tighter. “As I explained the last THREE times. You cannot have more than one in 24 hours.”
Constantine tilts his head, and I can only imagine the face he is shooting at Simon. “It’s okay to admit you’re scared to do it.” Simon is so glaring at him as he looks frazzled by his houseguest.
I clear my throat, hoping to avoid a confrontation. Both sets of eyes turn to me, and I walk and sit beside Constantine. “Good morning. Would you like some coffee?” Simon asks as he holds up the coffee pot.
“I don’t think I have ever had it.” My mind shuffles through the memories from my life before the facility, and I can’t recall anything about coffee.
“What a travesty.” Constantine snaps his fingers twice at Simon. “Give the girl a cup.”
Simon sits across the counter, stirring a black mug of coffee. “So, what’s the plan?” I drum my fingers across the counter, and Simon pushes a mug towards them. My fingers wrap around the warm mug. I am at least enjoying holding the hot mug in my hands.
“First, we will see if you like coffee. Then, we have someone coming over. You’ll like her.” Constantine shrugs and rolls his eyes. “Well, honestly, I don’t know if you will, but the woman is hard not to like.”
I smile as I bring the mug to my face, inhaling the aroma before braving my first sip. “Well, that all depends on what exactly she is here for, if I will like her or not.” Taking a sip, I shrug. “Don’t mind it. Maybe it will grow on me?”
“Her name is Carmen. She is a professor here. She is a caster but has a few specialties. Blood magic, along with being a gifted clairvoyant.” Simon explains.
I close my eyes and mentally try to ready myself for today. No matter what I do, I know today will be long and will come with headaches. I know that if we get any answers, I will be grateful. However, I am terrified of what these answers will end up being. What if they figure out I am more trouble than I’m worth? Not to mention that there is a god or some spirit that might have brought me back to life. Instead of voicing all those out loud, I say, “Blood magic sounds… dark?”
“Yes and no,” Constantine answers, tilting his head and motioning for a refill. “If blood magic is done for good and the right reasons, the only payment required is the blood spilled for the spell. If blood magic is done for the wrong reasons, the payment will be darker and more twisted—usually, a sacrifice of one’s soul or the life force of another. There must be an adequate payment for the services done. However, Carmen teaches here and helps people discover parts of themselves. Sometimes, it is important to reveal a talent or gift that might be recessive. It can grow if you exercise that part of yourself, like a muscle.”
I sip the coffee, thinking over the words that he said. “Well, she sounds impressive.” That alone makes me even more nervous about meeting her. I am less than impressive as a person. It's something that I have been told a lot in my life: that I am more of a mess than anything else. A pain that someone has to deal with because the universe decided it wanted to be entertained with my soul. I am not sure I am worth all this fuss, and I hope I am not a giant waste of her time. Maybe she will tell them so and save me the trouble of having to disappoint them both.
“Hey, where did you go?” Simon pulls me from my thoughts and I look at his tired face.
“I guess I hope I am not a waste of her time. Part of me feels like I am wasting your time as well.” I shrug my shoulders, not liking my second-guessing. Everything is changing quickly, and I haven’t had time to adapt. My eyes look to Constantine, my father. That felt weird. Everything seems like it is moving so fast. I didn’t know freedom would be this exhausting.
“This is important. We need whatever insight we can get on what is happening with you. That doctor altered your DNA. You shifted during your time at the facility. We need to understand what we can do to help you. So far, this is the best idea we have had to ensure whatever happened last night doesn’t continue.” Simon clears his throat after that long-winded answer.
My eyes roll before I shake my head. “Yesterday wasn’t so bad. I am still alive and my beast is calm.”
“Stop. Don’t downplay that like it wasn’t terrifying.” Constantine’s voice has an edge, a hardness I haven’t heard from him yet. His jaw ticks, and he shakes his head at me. “Watching you scream as your body distorted. Bones cracking, flesh changing, blood pouring out your eyes, nose, ears, and mouth. All while choking on blood as you screamed. It looked like a fucking crime scene in the living room.”
The air leaves my lungs as I don’t understand how to argue with this. Stuff like this is a regular occurrence. Nothing new, and honestly, with my shadows unlocked, it felt better than normal. “This is normal for me. It’s not new.” I blow out a breath and close my eyes tightly. “This…” I motion around the room. “... is new for me. What I am used to is Dr. Vic or a guard saying, ‘Good job, you didn’t die,’ before being dragged back into a cell.”
“Well, if I have anything to say about it, it won’t be normal anymore,” Constantine states before waving his hand at Simon. “I need whiskey for my coffee this morning.” When Simon doesn’t budge, Constantine tilts his head. “It’s for the safety of everyone that I stay a medium level of drunk today.” Constantine holds up his hand low. “Not drunk, dangerous to society.” He holds his hand up high. “Super drunk, sloppy, and probably going to do something incredibly stupid.” He places his hand right in the middle. “This, right here, that’s my sweet spot and where I need to be. Nobody dies, and I can hear fucked up shit Salem considers normal without murdering multiple people.” He leans back in his chair and shrugs. “I think I will be less of a headache for you in the long run.”
Simon mutters under his breath before turning and opening the cabinets above his stove. Several bottles are sitting behind the salt and pepper shakers. He hands Constantine a bottle, who takes a large swig off the bottle before pouring an unhealthy amount into his coffee. “See, was that so hard?”
A knock saves us from hearing Simon’s response as he shakes his head and walks off without another word. I cock my head to the side. “Whiskey mornings happen often there for you?”
He rolls his eyes, “Shut up.” His tone is teasing. “I am not used to caring. This is a new feeling. I don’t necessarily like it.” He pauses, momentarily head tilting back and forth as if weighing something. “I don’t dislike it either, though. It’s a weird new gray area.”
I hold my coffee mug up. “Cheers to gray areas.” He raises his and clinks our cups together before the sound of jingling catches my ear.
I see Simon smiling as he leads a woman through the living room. His smile turns forced when he looks at me once more. “Salem, this is Carmen. Carmen, this is Salem.” The woman tilts her head, studying me. Her long caramel-colored hair touches the top of the bar top. Her lips curl in a kind smile, and her dark, almost purple eyes seem to see through me. She has a stack of golden bangles on her wrist. Rows of shells and small bones rattle off her black boho skirt.
“Salem, I am very excited to meet you. Have they explained exactly what I do?” She sits on the counter, holding her large cloth mail carrier-type bag.
“A little, yes. I’m hoping you can tell me about what I am now genetically. I need to learn how to control the parts of me I was born with versus my altered ones.” It felt like an odd statement to make. I frown slightly at that thought. My eyes look to everyone around the room, who all seem like they aren’t used to not knowing what to do. Each one of them seems confident and capable. Now, they all seem to grasp at straws, figuring out the best route.
She pulls out a silver tray with a center circle with four larger circles around the center. Then, another layer outside of them. Carmen points to the center. “Your blood will go here, and it will gravitate to anything that your blood has linked to it. No matter how small, don’t be alarmed. The four surrounding your blood are the key components of the four branches of Fae. Anything outside is different gifts that have occurred or that you may have. Each section has magical etchings which will pull your blood to it.”
“Let’s do this.” I raise my hand to her, and she takes it.
Carmen speaks to herself quietly. Her eyes close, and she speaks faster. Her thumbnail extends and cuts into the palm of my hand. I watch as my blood pools in the center. Time seems to slow as the blood pools, and it feels almost like a light breeze encircles us two. I look up for guidance, yet find none since her eyes are closed as she continues to let my blood flow freely.
While my palm is between her hands, Carmen’s opposite hand reaches up, almost like a magnet getting pulled to an anchor. The blood stops as her head snaps back. A bright light seems to come out of Carmen as if she had a firework explode from under her skin. My eyes flinch back, wincing, trying to pull my hand away from her. She doesn’t let either of us move away; she holds tight.
Her eyes suddenly open. They are now white. There is no separation in her eye now as they seem to glow from within. “You’re looking much better than the last time I saw you. We have been meeting about you. So many changes are taking place, and not all of us are sure about you.” Everything blurs around us, almost like nothing else exists except this conversation. “You have to train your body to contain more than it should. There is room; you just have to work from there. If not…” She laughs, her voice changing even more into something it wasn’t. “...then you’re not the one we think you are, and I will get to keep you.”
The wind stops, and Constantine and Simon seem almost frozen. Time has stopped around me. I blink, feeling the energy shift again, and everything seems to restart. Carmen pulls her hands away from mine, putting them to her face. She winces as she pinches her eyes closed. “Whoa, that felt off.” Carmen shakes her head. “Never had a reading feel like that.” She points to her arm. “Look, goosebumps.”
She isn’t the only one, but it’s something I don’t repeat out loud. It seems like something that I should play close to the chest. All I can do is shrug at her because I do not know how they normally go.
We both lean forward, looking at the blood, trying to interpret what they mean. I see symbols and blood, nothing more. “Umm. This acts like you have three majors and a touch of one?” She shakes her head as if that doesn’t seem right. “Caster and shifter are full gifts? But is your demon even fuller? Vampire is there, but not?” Carmen looks up at me, her eyes fearful, and gives me a weak smile. “Whatever happened, I am sorry.”
“What else does it say?” I am trying to move on from this. Simon and Constantine are treating me like I will implode at any time. I don’t want them picking up anything else they should worry about.
“Clairvoyant, empathic, and telepathic are your main branches that split off from there. Have you been hearing anyone’s thoughts? Seeing visions? Glimpses when touching anything.”
I feel all of their eyes on me. Every part of me is screaming to keep my death and whoever just used Carmen as their puppet a secret, at least for now. “The nurses and the beige lady, their thoughts almost felt like they were talking to me in my head.”
Simon nods. “Yeah, Lydia was spooked. The weaker the magic is in a person or, the more distracted they are, the easier it is to penetrate someone’s mind. Sometimes, people don’t mean to project them.” He pulls the collar of his shirt to the side, showing a tattoo of some kind. “Most of us have wards in place to prevent. Some refuse, depending on their power levels. Some don’t care.”
My heart slightly feels like it’s sinking. “Yeah, sign me up for those.” The thought of emotionally being on guard all the time sounds exhausting. I am so behind on any part of my powers. Being overtaken my first few days in Black Rose sounds like something will happen. I have a feeling that it will not be a walk in the park.
Constantine nods. “Did you see anything when you touched her?”
“There is something that seems to have wrapped itself around her. I can’t see past it.” She shakes her head. Her hands slightly tremble as she looks down at the tray. “I would like to do other readings sometime. But it's something I need to reflect on.”
Simon looks at Carmen with concern. “Are you okay? Do you need help with getting home?”
She gives him a small smile. “No need to fret over me.” Her gaze moves to mine before smiling sadly again. “I am sorry that I can’t be more help. That took it out of me.” Guilt eats at me, but my intuition screams to keep it quiet. It doesn’t seem like something we should share. My shadows and I agree with that, at least.
With a nod, I watch her leave. Simon walks her out, and I am left with Constantine. “What’s next?”