Failing Upward

Chapter 12 (part 3): Sweet Dreams

"I told you all this before, John. In the hospital. I'm your uncle, and Glenda is your aunt."

What I couldn't remember besides the first kiss! That was it!

"...and I'm your brother," Sean said, so quietly that I wasn't sure I heard him at first. Then it all made sense. Sherlock was shaking next to me in laughter. What the fuck could be that funny?

"Last night...you were humping your brother's leg!" Sherlock said, slapping my knee. I didn't see the humor in that at all, although I imagined Sherlock could.

Rubbing up and down his thigh was the last thing on my mind. I was stunned.

"I think it's time the two brothers talked," Glenda said.

Sean motioned his head for me to come, and as I got up, Sherlock stood to follow. Gregory moved his hand from my leg to Sherlock's, halting him.

"They need to talk together, without you there. Don't worry. He'll be safe. You are the one in danger now. Stay here safe in the house with us. John will explain everything when he comes back."

I gave his hand one last squeeze and said, "I'll be ok," although I wasn't sure that was true. I knew where Sean was taking me: We were on our way to the garden. I felt like some kind of human sacrifice.

I followed Sean's slight form out the back door and through the yard. He was shorter than average, like me; nose like mine, but finer boned and larger eyes. We really didn't look that much alike. As far as habits, he tilted his head the same and licked his lips, but little else save our musical talents. In music, we meshed perfectly. Maybe I should have realized our connection last night on stage.

"After my parents died, Uncle Greg took me in. I've been here or away at college since."

I wanted to ask why our parents kept him and not me, but I couldn't.

Sean stopped on the garden path. "I know what you're feeling. The roses crush your senses, block out everything. In the beginning, I felt that too. Sometimes I still feel it, but those first few times before you're truly immortal, it consumes you."

"That's not all it does. Shit." Up ahead, I saw the trellis entrance, saw the roses on the other side. I flicked the sweat off my forehead as it ran into my eyes, burning. Sherlock was too far away. In the house, waiting for me. The last time Sherlock and I were in garden together, I craved him and wondered what it'd be like to throw him on the ground and fuck him in front of everyone.

I blinked. I was flushed and breathing hard. Sean smiled at me oddly.

"I'm afraid I can't help you out with that, being your brother and all."

I looked at my feet. Standing in poison ivy, not good. Addled with sweat and sex from the rose's influence, I swabbed my brow with the bottom of my t-shirt. My eyes still stung. My heart thumped twice, then seized.

"God, do I have to go in there? I can't breathe."

"You have to do this for yourself and for Sherlock. You won't be able to protect him if you don't. Come on."

I stepped through the garden gate first.

Bursts of light like shards of broken glass sliced in through me then out again. Although my eyes no longer stung, my heart continued to beat twice then skip. I breathed in through my nose and out through my mouth. The sweet, sticky essence was thick on my tongue, insinuated itself through my pores, coursed through my blood. The tendrils reached out to me. I let them. The barbs hooked into my forearms and calves. A voice murmured, lie down. I obeyed. A cloudless blue sky broke through the canopy of trees that surrounded the garden clearing. My face upturned to the crisp sky, I closed my eyes with the warmth of the sun on my lids and the roses in my veins. My heart pounded the same pattern inside my chest, and the pulse rushed from my groin to my fingertips.