Blackstone

Home to Queens

Joey's beat up blue mustang idled on 72nd street and 5th looking out of place among the fancy apartment buildings. I could see him behind the wheel, his long angular body crowding up the small car. He nervously looked around. I jogged up and quietly slipped inside. Joey sprang out of his seat with alarm.

"Relax, it's just me," I joked, pulling my seatbelt around me.

"Why do you have to be so damn stealthy, Eliza? It's a good thing I don't have a heart condition," he said, "Here, I got you Burger King." He pointed to the back seat where two bags of steaming fast food lay waiting.

"Oh, you're the best," I said and grabbed the bags. I pulled out a whopper and sank my teeth into it. Oh, this was good. The Dark Power took a lot out of me and I always needed a ton of food to restore my body after a kill.

Joey drove down 72nd street, taking us towards the Queensboro Bridge and home to Astoria. He drove in silence, knowing not to disturb me during my pig out session.

I paused between mouthfuls of fries and looked at him out of the corner of my eye. I liked watching him drive. He was good at it, just like he was good at so many other things – captain of the track team, debate club president. We never would have met if he hadn't sucked at Latin. Fortunately, languages are something I'm good at, that and killing.

Other than my Uncle, Joey was my only friend. The only person I trusted with my
Secret. The only person I told about The Wend and my Mission.

Joey ran his fingers through his sandy blond hair and turned to look at me. His blue eyes reminded me of the icy waters of a glacial bay in the far north. I could tell that something was bothering him.

"Eliza, how long are you going to keep doing this?" he said.

I sighed. A heavy feeling of despair sank over me like a black cloud. I was in no mood for this. I just fought off a notorious Z Gang. All I wanted to do was go home and sleep for a thousand years.

Joey didn't wait for my answer.

"I mean, I'm heading to West Point next year..."

"You don't even know if you've been accepted yet," I said.

"I'll get in. Mister Clemmons and Congressman Sanchez assure me I'm a dead lock," he said as he shot around a Mercedes and merged onto the Queensboro Bridge.

I resisted looking at the Manhattan skyline and instead gazed out across the dark expanse of the East River. I imagined myself at the bottom of the river, burrowing into the silt and mud, anywhere but here in this car. We had this conversation before, about the future, and it always ended in these awful silences.

Joey pulled off the bridge and took the exit for Northern Boulevard.

"Eliza?" he asked.

"Joey, I've told you this before. I've told you it a dozen times. I didn't ask for this. I didn't ask to be a Keeper of the Wend. I was chosen. It's my destiny. Mary tells me-"

"You know what? I want to meet Mary one of these days. I keep hearing all these things about her, but somehow we never get a chance to meet. I wonder if she even exists."

"She only visits me in my dreams," I said.

"Really? Well, the Dallas Cowboy Cheerleaders were in my dreams last night, but you don't see me running off to Texas, do you?" he said.

"I thought you were a Jets fan?" I teased, trying to change the subject.

"Very funny. Look, I'm just worried about you. That's all." he said and pulled off Steinway Street onto a tree lined lane full of Tudor style single family houses. I was home.

Joey pulled up across from my house and yanked the parking brake up. He turned towards me and stroked my long black hair with one hand.

I always loved it when he did this. My hair was long and flowed down my back like a river of coal. It was a major pain in the ass when I went on a mission, and I always had to tie it up in a tight bun. The last thing you want on a hunt is some creep grabbing your hair. One time, I threatened to cut it off and Joey gave me this look of pure horror. He loved my hair. He said it reminded him of a mermaid. If he only knew what mermaids really looked like - disgusting creatures with faces like prunes and slimy seaweed for hair.

I grabbed his hand and moved it away from me. Joey reacted with a small look of hurt. He sighed and looked away. We sat in silence for a moment. I heard the wail of a distant siren rush by on Ditmars.

"You've obviously got something to say. So go on and say it," I said quietly.

Joey looked back at me. "Eliza, I care about you. I really do," he stopped and looked down.

"But you want to see other people. You want a girlfriend who isn't a freak," I said.

"I never called you a freak. I never said that," he said pointing his finger at me in righteous indignation. "It's just that you take all these risks. You talk about this creature that lives inside you. You go running in the park at dark, in spite of the curfew and then you come out looking like hell."

I looked at him coldly. Mary told me this moment would come. She always told me that a Keeper must become friends with Loneliness.

Joey raised his hands in exasperation, "I can't take this anymore."

I grabbed the door handle of the car, "I understand. Enjoy WestPoint. I know you'll make a good officer." I got out, slammed the car door shut and ran up the path to my house. A single tear ran down my cheek. Don't cry, I told myself. A Keeper must be in control of their emotions at all times. I brushed the tear away. Behind me, I heard the growl of the Mustang's engine as Joey pulled off down the street and drove out of my life forever.

To Be Continued

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