The Havoc Chronicles (Book II): Unbound (22 page)

I held up my hand clutching the spoon, like a talisman to ward off evil. I opened my arms and Rhys pushed past my dad sweeping me up in a powerful embrace.

A dam seemed to break inside of me. All the sadness and pain I had been bottling up since Kara’s death broke forth in a tidal wave of emotions. Tears that I thought had dried up streamed down my face, only this time they were accompanied by a cleansing, healing sensation.

“I came as soon as I could,” said Rhys. “We had to... clean up.”

“I know.” I hugged him tighter. I never wanted to let him go.

For the next few minutes we stayed there, locked in an embrace, my face pressed against his chest. I held him tight, my arms refusing to let go now that they had found something solid to grasp. For the first time in days, the overwhelming tide of despair that had threatened to drown my soul began to recede. I could still feel the pain, but I could envision a time when I might be happy again.

When we finally let go of one another, Dad was no longer there. We found him sitting at the kitchen table, staring at his hands, clasping and unclasping them.

We stood in the entryway, holding hands, neither of us sure what to expect.

Dad stood up and walked to me, his expression unreadable.  He gently took my head in his hands, the way he had when I was a little girl and he wanted to make sure neither of us were distracted by our surroundings.

“Do you really love him?” he asked.

I nodded. “More than I can ever explain.”

Rhys squeezed my hand.

“Are you sure you know what you are getting into?” he asked. “You realize that he is not a seventeen-year-old boy, but a hundred-and-eighty-year-old man?”

“Believe me, Dad,” I said. “Every argument as to why this will be difficult has been spelled out for me very clearly. Rhys was very stubborn.”

Dad raised an eyebrow. “Rhys told you why you shouldn’t be together?”

“Frequently, and in a multitude of ways,” I said. “But in the end there was one reason why we should be together that triumphed over the reasons we should be apart.”

“And what was that?”

I shrugged and held up the hand holding the love spoon. “I didn’t want to give back this cool spoon.”

Rhys snorted and the mingled look of shock and amusement on Dad’s face was unbelievably satisfying. After a moment, he gave a weak chuckle and held out his hand.

“May I see it?”

I handed him the spoon, and he ran his fingers over it, examining every inch. When he was through he handed it back and addressed Rhys.

“I know what that means to you to. I hadn’t realized you felt that strongly about Madison.” He took a deep breath and let it out. I could almost see a physical transformation as his expression softened back into the Dad I knew and loved.

He took my hand and held it for a moment. “I still think you’re rushing into this, but I do remember what it was like to fall in love. It’s obvious that if I want to be a part of your life, this is something I’ll have to accept.”

I threw my arms around my dad and stood on tip toes to give him my hardest non-‘zerking hug.

When I let go, Dad’s eyes were bright. He shook his head. “I knew this day would come eventually. I just didn’t think it would be this soon.”

I rolled my eyes. “Let’s not get all dramatic. It’s not like I’m going anywhere.”

“I know,” Dad said with a shrug. “It’s a parent thing. One day when you have kids you’ll understand.”

“Are we okay now?” Rhys asked my dad, motioning between the two of them.

Reaching out, Dad pulled Rhys into one of those loud man-hugs with lots of slapping each other on the back. They always looked painful to me but for some reason guys seemed to like them.

“We’re fine,” Dad said.

“Good. Then may I stay here and take care of your daughter?”

Dad looked at me and raised an eyebrow. “Going off of past experience, I’m guessing Madison might want to go get cleaned up first.”

I suddenly realized what I must look like. I had been too excited to see Rhys, too determined to make Dad accept our relationship to remember that I had hardly been off the couch in two days and hadn’t bathed for at least four. I reached up and felt my matted, tangled mess of hair, a flush of embarrassment rushing over me.

I ‘zerked, letting the bright glow obscure the more horrible details. “I’ll be right back,” I said and ran up the stairs to the bathroom in record time.

***

The next day Rhys and Mallika questioned me about the night Eric and Kara had died. I did my best to explain how I’d known something was wrong, but it was hard to explain that suffocating rush of images. Rhys seemed genuinely perplexed, but the expression on Mallika’s face and the questions she asked me made me wonder if she knew more than she was telling.

A dark shadow of solemnity seemed to cover the remaining Berserkers. Some took it better than others. Shing remained his usual stoic self, and aside from an extra dose of seriousness, Davu, Arthur, and Josiah, seemed unaffected by the tragedy.

Aata, however, was a complete mess. He and Kara had never made up, and the guilt was eating him alive. He attempted to drink himself into a stupor, but apparently his Berserker-enhanced liver made it impossible. So he took to going out on his own to remote areas and, well, going berserk. It was a strange coping mechanism, but it seemed to work. He always came back looking calmer, but the effect only lasted a day or so before he had to go out again.

We all hoped this wasn’t the beginning of a second Berserker going feral.

I was still affected by what had happened, and I suspected on some level I always would be. Eric and Kara were my friends and to have them gone so quickly just seemed wrong somehow - like I had been cheated out of my fair share of time with them.

Fortunately, now that my initial shock was past, I was able to cope and move on with my life. Mom and Dad seemed very relieved to have a daughter who spoke and bathed on a daily basis.

Going back to school was difficult. We couldn’t tell anyone about what happened to Eric, so I was expected to be my usual chipper self. Ok, that might be pushing it a bit, but I was expected to act somewhat normal.

During my absence – I told everyone I had gotten food poisoning – Amy and Ginger had engaged in an epic battle of manipulation and spite, but I honestly didn’t care anymore. I listened attentively for Amy’s sake, but it was hard to concentrate on the complicated battle plans for her next preemptive attack.

When I accidentally let my feelings about it slip to Amy during gym class, she got rather upset and wouldn’t talk to me for the rest of the day.

That night after Berserker training – my first training session in weeks – Rhys and I went onto the back porch to cool off.

The night was cooler than usual and there were no clouds. The stars were out, and we sat together on the porch swing looking at the night sky.

After a few moments, Rhys reached under the cushion on the swing. He pulled out a flat package wrapped with a silver ribbon.

“I want you to have this,” he said.

“What is it?”

“Open it and find out.”

I carefully untied the ribbon and removed the silky red cloth. Underneath was a book beautifully bound in black leather with patterns of sliver leaves and vines twining around the edges. The cover had an image of two masks, one smiling and the other frowning – the classic symbols of comedy and tragedy.

I traced my fingers over the artwork. “It’s beautiful.”

“Open it up.”

I opened the book, and on the first page was a quote from Shakespeare’s
As You Like It:
“All the world's a stage, And all the men and women merely players; They have their exits and their entrances; And one man in his time plays many parts...”

The rest of the book was filled with photos of things Rhys and I had done together: the forest where we first met, the skating rink, Cannon Beach, Powell’s books, Goblin Valley, and dozens of others. Each photo was captioned in neat script explaining why it was significant. There were several pages capturing memories of the play with photos I had no idea he had taken.

“This is beautiful,” I said. I reached out and squeezed his hand.

“You like it, then?” Rhys had a shy look on his face, as if he thought I might reject it.

“Of course,” I said. “It might be the most thoughtful gift anyone has ever given me.”

I continued flipping through the pages. About halfway through the book the pictures ended, leaving blank pages. But the last page with anything on it had simply a date and time: May 2
^nd
, 7:00. That was a little over two weeks from now. 

“What’s this for?”

“For what I hope will be our next big memory together,” Rhys said. “I know it’s late notice, but I would be honored if you would go to the Prom with me.”

I seemed to be cursed to have good things happen at the wrong times. I had been looking forward to this moment ever since Rhys and I had started dating, but given everything that had happened, it somehow felt... wrong to go to Prom.

I shut the book and closed my eyes. This would be hard enough without having to see the pain I was going to cause him. “I’m sorry, but I can’t.”

There was a long pause before Rhys answered. “I must admit that wasn’t the answer I was hoping for.”

I opened my eyes. “I know. I’m sorry, I really do want to go. It’s just that given what happened to Eric and Kara, I’m just not ready to go out and party.”

“Okay,” said Rhys. “I understand and can respect that. But may I give you an alternate perspective before you make a final decision?”

“Sure.”

Rhys held up a hand and counted the reasons off as he spoke. “First, staying home will not bring either Eric or Kara back. Second, both Eric and Kara would have wanted you to do what made you happy. Third, the last thing you need right now is to be dwelling on something that was not your fault and was completely out of your control. And fourth, all the preparations for Prom will keep you occupied while you come to terms with their deaths.”

I took in a deep breath before answering. “Logically I understand, and it makes sense,” I said.

“So you’ll come?”

I shook my head. “I guess I’m just not a logical person, because it still doesn’t feel right to go.”

“It doesn’t feel right?”

“Yeah, it somehow feels... disrespectful to be going out and having fun so quickly after they died.”

“So how long will you have to punish yourself before you’re allowed to have fun again?” He looked me straight in the eyes. Oh those eyes!

“Rhys,” I said. “It’s not like that.” Or was it? Hadn’t he hit the nail on the head? Wasn’t that what I was doing? They had suffered and so I should too? 

“Believe me,” he said. “I understand the feeling. It took me a lot of years after I faked my own death to feel like I was allowed to have fun. Don’t make the same mistake I did. Punishing yourself for something that isn’t your fault only leads to more pain.”

“I know.”

“Besides, you and I both know that Eric would never want anyone, anywhere, at anytime to miss a party because of him.”

I let out a laugh. That was true. No one loved to have fun more than Eric.

“I don’t know,” I said.

Rhys reached out and held my hand. “If I thought that by staying home you would get through this faster, I wouldn’t even have asked. But from what I have seen, the only way to get through these kinds of trials is to keep yourself immersed in life. Life heals.”

I leaned over and wrapped my arms around Rhys’ neck. I gently pressed my lips to his – they were amazingly soft – and then pulled back.

“Have I ever told you that you are a wise man?”

Rhys smiled and kissed me again. “Is that a yes?”

***

Amy was so excited to hear I was going to Prom with Rhys that she forgot she was mad at me. We spent the next few days looking around for a Prom dress, and after hours of searching, finally found the perfect one. The choices had been slim since I was getting into this rather late, but when I saw the dress, it was like a chorus of angels was singing, and light shone down on it from above.