Things That Should Stay Buried - Casey L. Bond Page 0,109

know you can sense things that even I miss,” he said. “You felt off right before they started taking people.”

“Maybe I’m just getting sick,” I mused.

Aries suddenly appeared in front of me in the hall. “What is it?” he asked Kes, his pink eyes darting between us.

“She felt strange before the collection, and she’s experiencing the same feeling now,” Kes explained.

“This feeling is worse, in case that matters…” I trailed off as they both whirled around to look at me.

The first thought that popped into my mind was How could this day possibly get worse? The second thought was how my mom would always answer when I asked her that. She would tell me not to tempt fate, because things could always be worse.

After someone lost something precious to them, something that completed part of their heart, and they hit absolute rock bottom, they became intimately acquainted with the dizzying sensation of loss. They knew what it felt like, the feel and smell and texture of it. And they recognized the sensation in others. They recognized when someone just needed kindness. A smile. A hug. Ice cream.

My mom brought all three when I’d had a bad day. I soon learned that time spent with her was the best medicine.

Whenever I’d come home in tears and regale her with my latest misfortune, she’d tell me everything would be okay because it wasn’t the worst thing that could happen. Then she’d hand me a pint of ice cream she kept in the freezer for just such an occasion. Brandishing two spoons, we’d chill and spend quality time together, discussing how ridiculous the gossip was and making up our own rumors – which I wouldn’t spread – because it felt good. She made the worst days better, just because she cared. Because she loved me.

Now more than ever I wanted to run to her, hug her, and never let go. I wanted to thank her for always being there to help me wade through my petty dramas, because I knew what real problems were now.

Aries extended a hand. “Would you come with me?”

“Where?”

“To the courtyard.”

My breath hitched. That was where Taurus killed me.

“I know you don’t want to go there or see that place, but I need you to remember something.”

I nodded rapidly before I could talk myself out of it. “Okay.”

Kes went with us but gave me and Aries space enough to talk, even though I knew he could hear every word we uttered as he prowled around the space. The columns that flanked us were as tall as redwoods. They cast shadows over us, but the sun wouldn’t be so easily stifled, peeking through where the shadows couldn’t reach.

“Show me where you collapsed,” he rasped. His eyes said what his mouth didn’t. He didn’t want to know it, but needed to. He wouldn’t ask or put me through this unless it was absolutely necessary.

I walked through the columns until we spilled into the empty courtyard. There, I carefully retraced my steps, slowly this time.

When I saw the place where Taurus had killed me, I stepped on top of the stone. Kes watched from a distance and stared at the stones under my feet. He said he’d cleaned blood off them, and I knew he thought it was mine. I didn’t know how, but at this point knew everything was possible.

I still felt an ache where there shouldn’t be one. I rubbed a palm over my invisible wound.

“This is it,” I told Aries.

One look at Kes and I knew this was where he’d scrubbed the stone.

Aries stepped close, gently taking hold of my elbows. My hands found his arms and I was glad he had taken hold of me, because I felt as lightheaded and weak as I did in my dream just before I collapsed.

“When you fell, what raced through your mind?”

“A lot of things.”

Aries pressed his forehead to mine. “Show me.”

I closed my eyes and swallowed thickly, recalling the one thing I didn’t want to relive. The nightmare flickered through my head and my chest began not only to ache, but to hurt. Badly. I tried to pull away, but his hands slid to my head and gently held it there. The pain ebbed.

I realized there were things that I’d forgotten when I woke. Things that slid over my subconscious like water rushing over rocks. I’d always heard that your life flashed before your eyes before you died and that you relived the moments – big and small, good and