5

Capricorn closed the front door behind himself. He closed his eyes. When he opened them, she wouldn’t be there. She couldn’t. He opened his eyes. The apartment was dark and still as death. She wasn’t there. Capricorn let out his breath. He was relieved, but there was sadness twisting in his gut. He’d told her more times than he could count to leave him. He just never thought she’d ever actually do it.

He made his way up the stairs and into the bathroom. There was a bottle in the medicine cabinet. It was calling to him. He took it out, slid the lid open, and shook the pills into his hand. There were seven of the small, white capsules. He threw them into his mouth and washed them down with a glass of water.

Capricorn closed the cabinet and stared at his face in the mirror. He was sunken, sickly. His dark features and olive skin were haggard and there were wrinkles there that he hadn't seen before. His black beard was overgrown and speckled with grey. He rubbed at his chin then headed back down the stairs.

The liquor cabinet was always stocked. He took out a bottle and dropped it on the floor. It smashed, amber liquid splashing against his feet. Breaking it was satisfying. He pulled out another bottle. This time he opened it and took a long drink. Capricorn grimaced and started towards the living room. Glass crunched under his runners. He took another swig.

The room spun as the pills took effect. Capricorn collapsed onto the couch. He raised the bottle to his lips and took a drink. His arm went limp. The bottle fell to the floor and spilled its contents into the rug.

Capricorn was fading. He took a shaky breath and closed his eyes. It was peaceful, the way death should be.

1

Capricorn rode his bike along the seawall. The sun was unseasonably warm on his face and he smiled in spite of himself. The salty breeze blew through his hair.

A bird swooped down into his eyes, blinding him. He raised his hands to bat it away. There was a woman’s shriek. Capricorn couldn’t steer out of the way. He hit something – someone – and went flying from his bike and landed on his stomach in the gravel. His bike skittered away from him. He turned back to see who he’d hit.

It was a girl. She’d managed to get mostly out of the way by the looks of it and had fallen against the railing. She had a stunned look on her delicate features.

Capricorn scrambled to his feet and ran back to her. “God – Are you alright?”

She startled away from him, her stunned look turning into a scowl. “Watch it, asshole. You’re lucky I don’t go to the police.”

He pulled back, putting his hands up in surrender. “Police? What would they do? It was an accident.”

“I could have died!”

“But you didn’t.” He looked her over. “You’re not even hurt.”

She let out a scoff and started away. “Whatever. I’m not in the mood for this.”

Capricorn felt an odd flutter of anxiety at the thought of her leaving. He did feel bad that he’d hit her. “Wait!” he called after her. She turned. “Let me buy you a coffee, as an apology.”

She looked reproachfully at him. “Why would I want to have coffee with you?”

“I mean, you don’t have to have coffee with me. You could just take it and leave,” said Capricorn. “But I’d like to have coffee with you.”

“Why?”

“I feel badly, and you’re very pretty.”

She opened her mouth to speak but no words came out. She ran a self-conscious hand through her chin-length dark hair. “Fine. Okay,” she said. “I’ll have coffee with you. But only because I’m a sucker for flattery.”

Capricorn smiled and picked up his bike. “Good to know,” he said. “I’m Capricorn, by the way.”

She snorted. “Did your mother hate you?”

“Yes. What’s your name?” said Capricorn. He stiffened slightly at the mention of his mother, but gave the girl beside him a hard grin.

She shoved her hands in the back pockets of her jeans as she walked. “Eloise,” she said, her chin jutting up. She had dark skin, with cheeks rosy from the sun and the adrenaline from the bike crash.

He gave her a sideways glance. She was looking off at the ocean, the wind blowing her hair giving her a wild look. Capricorn smiled.

4

“I can’t do it El!” Capricorn exclaimed. He sounded angry. He hadn’t meant to. He was confused and scared, not angry. He took a deep breath. “I can’t.”

Eloise looked at him, her brown eyes wide and watery. “Please,” she said. Her voice was hoarse. “I need you to, Capricorn.”

Capricorn almost went to her. “I’m sorry. I can’t.” He was surprised at the amount of resolve in his voice. He didn’t feel resolved. His hands shook and his breath felt fluttery.

“Please, Capricorn.” Her voice was pleading now. “I wouldn’t ask, but I think… I need you. I want to go, but I keep coming back to you.”

Capricorn turned away from her, back to the sink. He leaned against the cold surface, staring out the window through the crack in the curtains. A raven fluttered down and landed on the fence. “Let me think,” he told her. “I’ll give you my answer. Soon. But I need you to leave me alone until then. Having you around here… It drives me crazy, El.”

There was no answer. Capricorn stayed as he was for a long time. When he turned back, Eloise was gone.

2

The apartment cost more per month than Capricorn made in a year. It was a gift from Eloise’s parents. It was bright, open, and huge. And, Capricorn’s favourite part: The bedroom had views of the ocean. Just below it was the seawall where he and Eloise had met.

Capricorn hefted his box into the elevator and used it to hit the button to the fourteenth floor, then looked over at Eloise. She had a box in her hands and she was chewing on her lip. A slow smile spread across his face.

She glanced up at him and frowned. “What?” she asked, puzzled, but amused.

“Nothing,” he said. “I was just thinking about what you’ll look like when you’re ninety.”

Eloise just furrowed her eyebrows at him. “What? Why?”

“Because,” Capricorn grinned. He put his box down and reached into his back pocket. He frowned and reached into the other pocket, then into his front pocket. He breathed a sigh of relief. “Because I want to be with you until your ninety. Longer, too, but, you know.”

Eloise’s mouth opened, but no sound came out. There were tears in her eyes.

The elevator dinged to a stop and the doors slid open. An old woman doddered into the elevator car, oblivious to the scene set up before her. The door closed behind her. She was squinting, a pair of tiny glasses perched on her nose.

Eloise’s mouth worked, but she couldn’t speak. Capricorn shook in silent laughter. He pulled Eloise towards him. She pressed her face into his shoulder to stifle the giggles that were escaping from her.

The door dinged open again, this time at the fourteenth floor. Capricorn got to his feet, took his box and led her out of the elevator. As soon as they stepped out into the hall, they both lost their battles against laughter. Capricorn set his box down and collapsed onto the floor. Peals of laughter burst from him. Eloise collapsed beside him and they both laughed for five minutes before Capricorn had the ability to talk again.

He propped himself up on one elbow, turning to her. “Marry me,” he said.

Eloise mirrored his position. “You don’t think it’s a little soon?” She took his hand.

Capricorn’s expression became almost condescending. “El, I’ve loved you since the day I hit you with my bike,” he said. “I’ve just been waiting on you.”

She lay on her back again. Capricorn watched her for an agonizing minute. Eloise leaned forward again, her eyes bright and shining. “Let’s do it.”

3

“Do you need anything else?” Capricorn asked, starting to open the car door. “Tampons, condoms?”

Eloise frowned at him from the driver’s seat. “We don’t use condoms,” she said.

Capricorn gave her his cheekiest smile. “I just thought you might want them for one of your other lovers.” He waggled his eyebrows at her suggestively.

She just rolled her eyes. “Just go already. Milk. That’s it.”

Capricorn went into the gas station, chuckling. He headed to the refrigerator and picked out a jug of 1%. He brought it up to the counter where a teenage girl was working. Capricorn peered out in the night while she scanned the milk. A raven swooped down and landed on the sidewalk. It stared at him.

There was a bang. A gunshot. A jolt went through Capricorn. He left the milk and started out the door.

Capricorn looked around, his breath coming short. His car was pulling out of the parking lot like all hell was on its tail. Capricorn went to chase it but something made him stop. A whimper. Capricorn turned. Eloise was lying on the cement. He fell to his knees beside her.

Her front was stained with blood. The hole was in her gut, and the blood was flowing steadily between her fingers where she pressed them to her stomach. Capricorn pressed his hand to the wound, trying to stop the blood.

“Capricorn,” she said, her voice strained and distorted. She shut her eyes tight.

“I’m here, El,” he told her. He wasn’t sure she could hear him, though. Her face wasn’t strained anymore. She let out a breath and didn’t breathe in again.

Capricorn leaned his head against her shoulder. Cold washed over him.

“Capricorn?”

He froze. She’d spoken. It was her voice. He looked up. She was still dead. He turned around, then scrambled backwards in fear. Eloise stood before him, looking as she had when they’d arrived.

“Capricorn,” she said again, looking down at him. “Capricorn, don’t be afraid.”

He stared at her, eyes wide. “You’re dead,” he rasped.

Eloise dropped to her knees in front of him. “Am I?” she asked. “Capricorn, I’m scared. It’s so cold.” Translucent tears ran down her cheeks. Her mouth opened but didn’t form words. She buried her face in her hands.

“It’s okay, El,” he said. He reached out to her, but stopped. He didn’t want to find that he couldn’t touch her. “It’s going to be okay.”

She looked up at him and swallowed hard. “I can’t be without you, Capricorn.”

I was wandering through the woods. The sun was shining through the branches. The dappled light hit my face and warmed me to my core despite the chill in the air. All around I could hear birdsong, and fresh air filled my lungs. My fingers were cold. I could see my breath in front of me, but I was happy and comfortable.

I smelled smoke, and came across a house. Laughter came from within and along with the scent of the fire burning in the hearth, I could smell food cooking. My mouth watered and my stomach grumbled at the thought of food. In spite of myself, I shivered. Perhaps, I thought, they’d let me sit by their fire, and spare me a cup of tea. A cup of tea sounded nice.

I knocked on the door.

To my delight, they let me in and were kind. They offered me food and drink and a seat at their table. They let me join in their games and they laughed at my jokes. It grew dark outside, but I hardly noticed how long I’d been there. We stayed up late into the night, talking and laughing and eating and drinking.

There was a girl there who I befriended quickly. She laughed a lot, dimples forming at the sides of her mouth. She talked about a life she’d spent traveling before she’d settled at this little house in the woods. She was married to one of the men, a hulking bearded fellow with hands like a lion’s paws. He loved her fiercely. I could see it in his eyes.

One man there became my friend as well. He had sharp features and glinting, clever eyes. He told jokes. Every word out of his mouth was biting, piercing through any shyness I might have arrived with. It put me simultaneously at ease and on edge. I raised myself up, firing clever phrases back at him. He’d laugh and we’d drink.

There was one there, though, a man who had my attention so wholly that even my new friends faded from view in his presence. He was tall and lean, with blonde hair and eyes like sapphires. He was cautious with me at first, hesitant, but with the others he laughed often and his smile was infectious. I found myself drawn to him. I wanted to be on the receiving end of his smiles. I wanted to know what his hands would feel like on my skin. I imagined them to be strong and rough, but gentle.

I put myself next to him and showed him all the charm I had. He gave me a curious look, and I knew he was trying to figure me out. We were stood around the large kitchen table, drinking and playing a card game. I was beside him, not wanting to let myself be taken away from the object of my affection. I raised an eyebrow at his curious look.

“You like me,” he said.

I smiled. “I do.”

The curious look changed into an easy grin and he put his arm around me. I couldn’t help but smile as well.

Around him, I was calm and nervous, fluttering and still. When he held me it felt like home, and when he kissed me I could taste sunshine. His hands were exactly as I’d imagined them to be, if not better. We spent that night tangled together and I dreamed of a life I could have, living in this house with my blue-eyed love.

The next morning, we sat in the kitchen, the sunlight streaming through the curtains giving everything the glow of warmth and comfort. He made coffee and I made us eggs and toast. The others were all still asleep. If I listened closely I could hear the sounds of their even breaths, like waves crashing on rocks.

“What now?” I asked as we sat down to eat.

“What do you mean?” said he.

“What do we do?”

He gave a shrug. “We eat and we drink and we laugh. Sometimes we go to the lake. There are ducks there that we teach to swim.”

My heart warmed to him even more, if that was possible. “That’s good of you,” I said. “But is that all?”

“Does there need to be more?”

I frowned. “No. But it’s a quiet life, this. Do you not crave more?”

He had to think about this. “I’m happy here.” He paused. “I suppose… I do want more. I would like to see the world. But I won’t leave.”

“Why not?”

His face took on a far-off expression. “If you stay out past dark, you don’t come back. Or you come back… different.”

“Different,” I echoed. “Different how?”

He shook his head. “It’s difficult to explain.”

There was a final look in his eyes, so I let that line of questioning drop. “So you never leave?”

He came back to me then, his eyes lighting up with that keen, single-minded focus. Focused on me. “I’ve been to the lake.”

“But you’ve never been farther? You’ve never left for longer than a day?” I asked.

He tilted his head, blue eyes frowning at me. “How could I risk all of this? How could I leave knowing that all the people I love might not want me when I get back? Or that I might be so different that I might not want to come back at all?”

I didn’t have an answer for him. I opened my mouth to speak, then closed it again. The air felt strange around me, heavy. It made it hard to breathe. I needed to get out. “I think I’ll go for a walk today,” I said finally, standing to clear my dishes. “I need some fresh air.”

His hand closed around mine. “Be back before dark,” he said.

I looked down at him and brushed a strand of pale hair out of his face. “Will you wait for me?”

“If you’re back before dark, I will. But I can’t wait around forever.”

Tears pricked my eyes but I pretended they weren’t there. “I understand,” I said, and I told myself it was the truth.

The forest was cold, the air clean and sharp in my lungs. I closed the door behind me, and even almost turned to go back inside, to run into my love’s arms and tell him that he was right. I couldn’t leave it all behind. There was a horrible tightness in my chest that wouldn’t go away.

But I walked on. It was early yet, I told myself. I had plenty of time to make it back. The sun would bring its warmth as the day went on and the fresh air would cure the tightness in my chest. I just had to keep going.

At around noon I stopped and picked some berries for my lunch. It hadn’t warmed up, though the sun was bright overhead and around me the forest was alive and full of music.

It was time to turn back, so I started the way I’d come. It was getting colder though. Clouds covered the sun and a harsh wind began to blow, my thin jacket doing nothing to stop the chill. I brought my fingers up to my mouth to blow warm air into them. My breath steamed in front of my face.

Snow began to fall as I walked. It was just a few flakes at first, then more. They landed on my eyelashes and in my hair.

The snow fell harder. It crunched under my feet. My sneakers were soaked through and I was shivering, my teeth chattering. I walked faster, then ran. The cold air pierced my lungs. If only I could make it back before nightfall. My love would be waiting for me. He’d wrap me in a blanket and sit with me in front of the fire. I kept this image in my mind.

But the snow had become a sheet of white around me. It was all I could do to keep to the path because I could hardly see it. The snow was too deep to run. My feet sank into it, up to my knees. Worse yet, the world around me was growing darker. I was running out of time.

I could almost smell it. The fire. Food. The snow blocked all noises there might have been, but I could swear I heard the sound of laughter. I tried to move faster, wading through the snow, every step heavy and treacherously slow. My body was numb and tingling. My mouth and nose were freezing closed. But I was close. I was so close now.

And then I was in front of the house. The blizzard stopped and aside from the fact that I was chest deep in snow, it was as though it had never been there at all. Overhead the sky was cloudless and black. The stars shone like so many tear drops.

I could see through the windows of the house. There were people inside. My friends. They were sitting at the table, eating and playing games. I tried to go to them, but I couldn’t move. I was stuck in the snow. My legs wouldn’t budge.

“Help!” I called to them. “Help me!” I scrabbled at the snow with my frozen hands. I screamed until my throat went hoarse. They couldn’t hear me, couldn’t see me. They didn’t even wonder where I’d gone. They’d forgotten me.

The door opened then. I recognized the silhouette of the man that stood there. My love. He hadn’t forgotten me. I should have known he wouldn’t.

“Help me!” I called to him. “I’m stuck. Help me so I can come in.”

I couldn’t see his face, but his voice sounded as cold as the snow around me. “I told you to be back before dark,” he said.

“I tried! The snow… I tried to make it back. Please,” I said. My voice grew high and desperate, tears threatening. “I’m here now. Help me.”

He turned to look at the others and I caught a glimpse of his face. He looked different. He’d said that those who stayed out past dark came back different, but it wasn’t me who’d changed. It was him. His face was sharper, with harder lines and a prominent brow. He’d lost the laughter in his mouth. It was replaced by an ugly set of his lips that made him look like he’d tasted something rotten.

“The others won’t want you here,” he said. “They’ve moved on.”

I struggled to breathe. I was so cold. My tears froze on my cheeks. “And you?” I asked. “Have you moved on?”

I couldn’t see his face again, couldn’t read his expression. He didn’t speak for a moment, and when he did it wasn’t to answer my question. “I told you to be back before dark. I told you I wouldn’t wait for you.”

“But this?” I asked. “This?” I slammed my fists in the snow. “Talk to me! Tell me what’s changed! Come out here and talk to me!” I threw snow at him, screaming and clawing and flailing. Still, I couldn’t move any closer to him or the house.

He shook his head. “I told you the people who leave come back different. The woman I knew never would have been so violent.” He turned away to go back inside.

“Wait!” I called. “Wait, please. Help me! What am I supposed to do?”

He didn’t wait. He closed the door behind him and locked me out.

I collapsed against the snow, sobbing. I threw more snow at the house but no one came out.

I spent the night shivering and watching the people I’d called my friends as they played their games late into the night. When I looked closely, I could have sworn a couple of them looked sad, confused. Like they missed me, or wondered where I’d gone. But they didn’t look for me, and I watched as they all went off to sleep, the man I’d loved finding his way into another woman’s arms.

I cried and shivered and waited. Eventually the sun came up. The air warmed around me and the snow melted and I was free to move again. I looked at the house. I wondered if anyone would come out, or if they’d come looking for me now that it was daytime again. They didn’t.

Perhaps I could go up to the house and knock on the door. Perhaps they’d let me in and things would be as they had been before. Not exactly the same, maybe, but I could find happiness there again. Or maybe the man I’d loved was right. Maybe things could never be the same again. My night in the cold had created a strength in me that hadn’t been there before. I still hurt, still longed to sit by the fire and laugh with people who loved me. But I’d survived on my own.

I walked away into the woods.

And I was different.

Chapter One

It was summer and I was twelve. The heat pressed in on all sides with no hint of a breeze, unbearable. The town was quiet as we walked through the streets, people choosing to stay in the relative cool of their houses rather than bake under the sun.

Twilla had been complaining all morning, as though we all didn’t know how hot it was. It was worse for us, I suppose. Our father was the town blacksmith, and his smithy was connected to our house. The heat that radiated off the forge could be felt through the brick walls. It sent waves through every inch of our home. In the winter it was blessedly warm. In the summer it was like living on the sun.

Finally, my father had had enough of Twilla’s whining. He told me to take her to the river. This, at least, cheered her up enough that when she opened her mouth, it was an endless stream of happy words that flowed out. This was also annoying, but not nearly as bad as her complaining.

There was a place just north of town where two smaller rivers joined to make the River Fime. The eastern stream was treacherous and rocky, but the western stream was smooth and fresh and cool. It was shaded by several tall standing trees with leafy branches, that thrived even in hot, dry months like these.

Twilla squealed, stripping off her skirts and her undergarments. She splashed naked into the cold water.

I was older, and less allowed to show such behaviour, as much as I would have liked to. Instead, I sat on the edge of the riverbank, took off my sandals, hiked up my skirts, and dangled my feet into the water, into a little eddy made by a rock jutting out of the water.

“Ilya!” said Twilla, her white skin flashing silver like a fish in the water. “Ilya play with me!”

I shook my head. “I’ll watch from here,” I said. “Papa doesn’t want you to get hurt.” There was little danger of this. Twilla lived for the water, and swam better than anyone I knew.

She sent a splash my way. I flinched, but enjoyed the cool water on my too-hot skin.

“Don’t splash your sister, Twill,” said a familiar voice. I turned and grinned at Vera, who sat down next to me and put her own feet in the water. “Blessed Ran and Silas that feels good,” she said, tilting her head back.

I narrowed my eyes at Vera.

“What? Am I not allowed to thank Ran for cold water on a hot day?” she said. She bent down so her long black hair touched the water and began combing the water into it.

“I don’t mind you thanking Ran or Silas,” I said, “but must you always sound so sarcastic when you do it?”

Vera laughed. “That’s how I always sound. They know where my heart lies.”

I shrugged and lay back on the grassy riverbank. It was too hot to argue, too hot to do much else but wish for rain. “How did you know we’d be here?”

“I saw you walking. I would have come with you but I was hanging up the sheets for Mama.” A troubled look crossed Vera’s face and she was silent for a moment. “There are so many things she can’t do now. I feel more like her nursemaid than her daughter.”

I didn’t know how to respond to this. I never did when Vera talked about her mother’s illness. I sat up and scooped water onto my chest and the back of my neck, letting the water trickle down into my dress.

There was a yelp from the water then and suddenly Twilla was crying, sobbing as she swam back to us. A trail of blood flowed out behind her. I stood, getting ready to pull her up onto the bank.

The blood flowed into the still water of the eddy, swirling there. It caught my eye and held it there for some reason I couldn’t figure out. I couldn’t break my gaze from it, couldn’t move. I stared at the blood, at the way it danced in the water. I forgot about the world around me. Even Twilla’s cries seemed to fade away. Then I heard it, the sound of blood pumping through my own body, under my skin.

It could have been a second that I was like this, or it could have been hours, days, or years. I was pulled to the blood in the water. It surrounded me. It was all I could see, and it formed shapes, images.

I saw our town during market one morning. A rider rode in, wearing the king’s crest on his sleeve. I couldn’t hear anything, but I saw another man I knew as Horace. He was drunk. He ran at the rider, waving his fists at him. The rider drew his sword and cut him down where he stood.

The image dissolved and reformed into a bedroom. Vera was sitting at her mother’s bedside. Her mother pressed something into her hand, but I couldn’t tell what it was except that it glinted in the candlelight. Vera held onto her mother’s hand and pressed her face into the bed. She was crying. The image dissolved again.

It reformed and I saw a mountain pass. It was snowing.

That’s all I saw. Vera jumped into the water, disturbing the image. She scooped Twilla up and placed her on the riverbank. “Ilya, by Silas, what’s the matter?” she asked me.

All I could do was stare at her, wide eyed. Then we both froze. There was a rumbling coming from the river.

“What’s that?” she asked me.

It was getting louder. I grabbed her hand and pulled her out of the river, then I lifted Twilla into my arms.

The rumbling was so loud I could feel the earth shake with it. I backed away from the river’s edge, clutching Twilla to me. Even she had gone quiet now.

The water rippled. There was something moving in the river. I could see it, a dark shape swimming upstream. The rumbling stopped. The creature had stopped moving.

It burst from the water so quickly I could barely see it, just a flash of black scales. It lunged for Vera, who managed to jump back just in time.

Vera screamed. She turned, leaving her shoes on the river’s edge and sprinting away.

The creature snapped after her once, then turned its gaze onto me. It was massive, twice my width, and at least twice my height – though there was more of it in the water that I couldn’t see. Its head was shaped like a lizard’s, with a snout and a frill on its neck, unlike a lizard though, it had no legs. Its eyes were what stopped me from moving. They were gold and fixed on me.

Twilla let out a whimper. The snake looked at her. It moved towards her, a forked tongue flicking out of its mouth.

I turned Twilla away from it, hissing and baring my teeth at the creature. It was as though something had taken hold of me for the second time that day, an animalistic instinct to protect what was mine. 

The snake looked at me. It cocked its head, holding my gaze. It opened its mouth, showing two long fangs. I hissed at it again, not looking away. It hissed, the frill on its neck fanning out.

I let out a snarl and took a step towards it. It closed its mouth, backing away from me. It cocked its head at me again, and flicked its tongue out. I let a growl rumble out of me. The snake danced back away from me, then turned and disappeared back into the water.

I let out a deep, shaky breath and was silent for a long moment, staring at the ripple the snake had left in the stream. It was gone. I almost collapsed as the adrenaline washed out of me. 

“Can you walk?” I asked Twilla.

“I think so,” she said. “With my shoes.”

I went back to the bank of the river and grabbed our sandals. Neither of us talked on the walk home. Twilla didn’t even complain about the heat.