Sort of Dead

62 - Waking Up

I jolt awake with a start.

I am soaked in sweat. Familiar faces are looking down at me.

‘Buddy, you're alive!'

Yep, that’s my Aar. This might be hard for you to understand, but the repose I feel at hearing his voice is unbelievable. If you've ever been as scared as me in that situation, and then someone you love is suddenly there, things just get so much better. Honestly, I don’t think you’ll ever dig that feeling, because you can’t ever be as afraid as I was, and that’s fine. I am no good narrator if I can’t explain how I feel, but I’m sorry. It’s pretty much an impossible task for anyone.

(Maybe I’ll compose a poem later. Sound good?)

'Ow!' Someone slaps me hard on the cheek.

'What’s wrong with you? You scared the living daylights out of us!’

I smile, rubbing my cheek. ‘Missed you too, Bee.’

I stand up, maintain my balance. Mr. Om pulls me into a wordless hug. He’s sweating, too, though not half as much as me. He asks me if he’s okay, in a voice so delicate it would crack with more compliance than a glass vase. For a moment, I feel like calling him my 'Uncle' again. I restrain that feeling.

Rasthrum is sitting by a corner, finishing the last bout of his Craige Rooster blood. Uncaring, unmindful.

I’m still in the carriage, the carriage is still moving. I never left, I never met the Coven, or the Grahi Witch.

But in a strange way, I think I did. 

Some piss did leak out of me. Of course it did.

Realization strikes me harder than the truck that hit me when I was four.

(Remember that? Nevermind, you have such a lousy memory, has anyone ever told you that? No offense intended, of course. Maybe a little offense. Just a teensy bit.)

‘Stop the carriage,' I say to Rasthrum.

He shrugs. Whistles. We stop.

I move to jump out of the thing, but Aar and Bee and Mr. Om - and even See, that goofball - collectively block my way. They actually seem like a team, for once. Internally, I beam. Externally, I tell them to move aside.

'First tell us what all that was about,' Aar demands.

Seeing my confused expression, Bee clarifies: 'You were convulsing and your teeth, they - '

‘Fangs, Mar,' Aar chimes in. ‘You developed fangs.’

‘Basically, we thought you were having the same sort of fit as on your birthday,' says Bee. 'The day you . .   you know . . . so we were worried.’

I nod. ‘I understand. I’ll explain everything. I promise. Just let me out for one minute. Please. I need some air.’

They concede. I lied, of course. I wasn’t out to get some air.

I walk up to the Nerth-doll – the sturdy yet now-tired, marvelous creature– but there is no sign of the one I’m looking for. ‘Where’s the spirit, Saayu?’ I stupidly ask.

The Nerth-doll snorts.

I’ll take that for an 'I don’t know'.

I hear a hiss I’m way too acquainted with, and instantly feel a chill creep up my body, followed closely by a heavy relief. I simply stand like a statue, looking at her innocent, translucent form hovering a few inches in front of me. The same amount of distance as had been between me and the Grahi Witch. Only here and now, I am comfortable. I am at home.

'Es . . .’

‘Yes, Marry-wee-wee?’

‘You’re okay . . .’

She frowns at me. She looks like the cutest thing ever.

I cannot contain it any longer. I reach forward to hug her, but I stumble, passing right through her. I can’t touch her physically. Es is like fire. I can feel her warmth, but if I touch her I burn. Tears fill my eyes.

Es looks at me curiously, then leans into me – and I mean straight into me.

For a moment, our bodies are one, they are mingled, entangled like a thousand threads about a rolling needle, like a swarm of bees over their hive, like a bunch of knots tightened over one another. I am freezing up, but I don’t care. Saayu is snorting, but I don't care. The rest of
y party is calling for me, but I don't care.

We are one, and one are we.

In case you were wondering, yes - the name of the chapter has two meanings.

Marra both 'waking up' from the whole Coven and Grahi Witch thing, as well as 'realizing' how much these peeps mean to him.

You mean a lot to me, too. Yes, you. I would embrace you if I could.