Negative Zero: Soldier of Light Chronicles Book 1 Read online

  “Oh, my gosh, Joel!” I laughed. “Give me a little credit. I know how she is, and I know her games. Besides that, I'm not depending on her what-so-ever for getting home. I've already figured I'm on my own once she's on her third drink.”

  “Well, I don't care what time it is. I know it's the weekend, and I'll be sleeping in, but I want you to call me as soon as you get in. Got it?”

  I gave him a thumbs-up and let out a huge yawn that had just been waiting to escape me. Joel and I were both in agreement that I needed to get back to sleep.

  “Hey, one more thing. Did you check your mail yesterday? I checked the tracking number, and it says Ms. Makerov signed for your package,” Joel said.

  My eyes narrowed. “Oh, Joel, you didn't.”

  “Didn't what? Didn't send my best friend a birthday gift all the way from France? Of course I did, Ev-Bear. What kind of friend would I be?”

  “Joel, you hardly have enough to get by through school as it is,” I said, concerned.

  “Oh, yeah, and you're doing so much better, Miss My-Internet-is-getting-shut-off,” he huffed at me. “Don't worry about it. It's special and fun, but I didn't break the bank. Just accept it and move on, Evika. From the sound of it, you wouldn't have enough to mail it back to me anyway.” He laughed at me.

  I relented and gave him a smile. “Thanks, Joel. You're the best. I'll visit Ms. Makerov downstairs in the morning before I head into work. She'll be up soon, I'm sure.” Ugh, I couldn't even think about work. I was so tired.

  “Good then. I know you will love it! Oh, and I'll let this lack-of-a-roommate thing go for now only because it's your birthday, but this conversation isn't over. Deal?”

  “Deal,” I said unenthusiastically.

  He smiled at me. “Well, Ev-Bear, never goodbye...just see ya later. Have fun with the ho-bag clan tomorrow, er, tonight. Jeez, I still get our times mixed up.”

  I laughed, my eyes half closed. “See ya later, Jo Jo.”

  I signed off, looked at my bed, and wanted so badly to crawl back into it, but Joel's comment about the kitchen was haunting me, so I took the time to bring it back to normal. About thirty minutes and fifty-seven yawns later, my kitchen was spotless and ready for my next assault. When I finally leaped onto the mattress, I'd hardly felt my head hit the pillows before I was out cold again.

  The best kinds of dreams are the ones in which you manage to realize you are in one. You can do whatever you want. This dream was one of those. I placed myself in the anatomy room in the art center of the college I used to attend. Originally, I had just planned on doing some painting. Alone. The way I liked it, but he appeared, quietly walking in with his black, leather jacket and worn blue jeans. His wet boots were squeaking along the tiles. It must have been raining. He sat directly across from me on the other side of the room. We were alone. I looked up from my easel and caught a glimpse of his beautiful eyes, hiding behind a few pieces of wet, straggling hairs. Our eyes locked, and the florescent lighting reflected in his, showing me a breathtaking emerald color.

  “Hi,” I said with a half-smile. I didn't want to seem too inviting.

  “Hello,” he said back to me, smiling at about five hundred watts.

  That was that. I went back to my painting. I was happy with the way the brush just led my hand. I'd often tried to create the image in my head and was determined to produce a concrete picture. I started with the outline of the body and the wings.

  I tried to ignore the footsteps, but I realized he was walking over to me. I was slightly annoyed that he'd even entered my dream. It seemed his presence was really the only part of which I had no control. His cautious walk over to me made me anxious, and I finally had to look up at him again. We looked at each other for a few moments longer until he made his way beside me. His scent was calming, fresh, like after a light, summer rain. He slid out of his leather jacket and placed it on the back of an empty chair. The charcoal t-shirt fit against his skin and looked like it had been painted on him, exposing the contour of each of his finely-tuned abs. I felt my mouth open as I saw his forearm muscle twitching while he stood clutching the chair.

  “Do you mind?” he asked, nodding his chin at the chair.

  “Uh, well---” The scooting of the chair cut me off as he dragged it across the floor and placed it next to me. My mouth hung open. Why did I have to be disturbed when all I wanted to do was be alone?

  “I've really been dying to see what you come here to paint,” he said to me as he made himself comfortable.

  I contorted my face and gave him a confused look. “I'm sorry. Do I know you?”

  He shrugged. “Not yet. No.” He gave me his five hundred watt smile again, showing the irresistible dimples in each cheek.

  I sighed heavily. Yes, he was an alluring specimen, but I was really not in the mood for company. I rarely got these kinds of dreams when I could mostly control everything. It irked me that he'd just appeared like this and distracted me. In real life, he'd stay even longer if I humored him, so I treated the dream the same way. I just turned around, faced the easel again, and continued painting while trying desperately to ignore him.

  “Hmm,” he said. “So you're not even going to ask me then, are you?”

  “Ask you who you are? No, I'm not. And I'm sorry if you consider it rude, but quite frankly, I don't care since you are only a figment of my imagination. I am in rare form tonight, and I am going to take advantage of it. If, for some reason, my mind decides to keep you in this dream, then fine, but I'm not going to let you distract me.” I dabbled my brush into some black paint.

  I heard him laugh lightly. “Okay, it's a deal.”

  I stopped painting for a moment and turned. “What's a deal?”

  “I can stay here as long as I don't distract you. It's a deal.”

  I rolled my eyes. “It wasn't exactly a suggestion.”

  “No, but I'm sure since we are in a dream, and if I were really bothering you, your imagination would have already found some way to get rid of me. Right?”

  I sighed. “You have a point.” I turned back to my painting again.

  “I always do.” I heard the smug smile in his voice. I didn't let him see the smirk on my face. He was kind of cute, but I still wasn't going ask his name.

  I was done with the outline and finally started mixing the colors to make the perfect shades of green. He had been quiet for a long time, keeping up his end of the deal. I could feel him behind me, watching me the entire time. It didn't bother me as much as I thought it would, his hovering. The silence was broken once he started asking his question.

  “So this was the objective tonight,” he said declaratively. “This is the butterfly you've been determined to paint.”

  I ignored him at first, but he'd been so good for so long, it really didn't bother me that much that he had spoken.

  “Yes. This is the butterfly I've been trying to paint,” I said.

  “It's quite beautiful. Very rare. You wouldn't see something like this in nature.”

  I was rather stunned that he could be so perceptive of my artwork. I was actually starting to enjoy his presence. I felt at peace with him there, so I decided to give a little explanation. It was a dream, after all, so I considered it therapy to open up. There was really no safer place to do it.

  “It's supposed to be my mother. She was killed exactly three years ago. She always told me that, after she died, she'd come back as a butterfly.” I smiled at the thought. “She told me it wouldn't be just any butterfly, but one that I would just know it was her, like a rare or new species.” I felt the prickling in my eyes. “We're Irish, so I always imagined the wings would have a subtle pattern representing a four-leaf clover.”

  “I'm so sorry that she's gone. If she does return, I'm sure she'd be proud to manifest as something as beautiful as the creature in your painting.”

  I laid the brush down on the tray and just stared at the canvas. “It was on my eighteenth birthday when he shot her.” I felt my throat tighten, and my ches
t ached as the anger inside me started brewing. Remembering that day caused my fists to clench as the pain grew. Just then, the sound of thunder started rolling in, and the lightning outside flickered. It distracted me from my thoughts as we both turned to look out the windows into the dark night outside. We were quiet for a while.

  “Have you seen her yet? This butterfly?” he asked me with a whisper.

  I cleared my throat and wiped the streams running down my cheeks. “No. I keep looking, but I've never seen her. It was probably just something she said to make me feel better.” I shrugged, stood, and started packing up my things. I have no idea why; it's not like I'd be able to take the stuff with me when I woke up.

  He just looked at me with a solemn expression. “Give it time. People never know their own capabilities until they discover them. Maybe she'll be able to visit you soon.” He rose to his feet, set the chair back into its place, and then stood to where our faces were only about a foot apart. “Keep looking.” He smiled sweetly. “You'll find her one day.”

  I looked into those emerald green eyes of his and almost believed him. I wanted to believe him, whoever he was. “Hope so.”

  He didn't move, but stood there staring into my eyes, studying me. It felt strange to me that I didn't feel awkward. I didn't really know what the purpose of my dreaming of him was, but I was glad he'd been there with me. The rain slowed down and the thunder rolled outside, but it sounded further away. The light boom in the distance broke our trance.

  “I better get going while I can.” He half-smiled. “Don't want that storm you caused coming back again,” he teased.

  It was true. It was my dream. I created everything in it. Even him.

  “See ya,” I said as I watched him slide into his jacket.

  “See ya,” he said, and just before he crossed the threshold to leave, he perked up his head and stopped for a moment. “Oh, Evika.”

  I looked at him and my heart skipped hearing him say my name. “Yeah?”

  “Happy Birthday.”

  I stared into his green eyes again and then finally remembered to breathe. “Thanks,” I said. My hand lifted to give him a slight wave goodbye, but he was gone. I sat back down to admire my artwork, but found myself wishing it hadn't been a dream, wishing I didn't have to wake up.

  2

  Goodbye, Sanity

  I rolled out of bed early enough to get ready. It was jean day at work, so that was a plus. I jumped in for a quick, hot shower to wake myself up, threw on a decent red t-shirt and clean-cut jeans so I didn't look unkempt, and then grabbed my bag and leather jacket as I walked out the door to see my neighbor.

  Thank God it was Friday. I so did not want to go to work, but I had a few good things going for me. It was the last day of the work week, I had some mail to look forward to, and I'd get to go out and drink legally. I was so exhausted, but I was looking forward to retrieving my mail from Ms. Makerov. She was the old Russian lady in 3C, downstairs. I loved hearing her tell stories because her accent was so fun to listen to. She reminded me of the female version of Mr. Bobinsky in the movie Coraline. We'd had a conversation about that before too, and she said I reminded her of the main character in the movie. Since then, she'd called me her “little mouska,” meaning little mouse. She was the sweetest lady and was always keeping me fed.

  “I had vision of bare cupboards on ninth floor. Your kitchen empty. No good. You eat what I make.” She'd grab my arm and drag me to her apartment right after I came home from work. I didn't mind her directing me on a detour before I got to go home and relax. Winding down at her place was better than going home to the empty ninth floor. I loved seeing her cats. On most days, you could find all seven of them. My favorite was Lucius. He was an all-black cat that never really warmed up to anyone but me. Ms. Makerov was always amazed and would say, “See, Little Mouska? Just like movie.” We'd both laugh.

  I knocked on her door, and in mid-knock before the third, she swung open the door and smiled as if expecting me. “Ah, Evika. You come for package?”

  I smiled at her. “Yes, Ms. Makerov. Joel said you signed for it yesterday. Thank you.”

  “Ah, it's twenty-one birthday, yes?” she asked, enthused.

  “Sure is. Going out with the girls tonight.”

  She waddled over to the couch to get the box. “Very good. Fun with your girls tonight.”

  “I hope so.” I smiled and shrugged.

  “Here is package. You sit and open. I be back in just one minute to get something else for you,” she said as she skuddled down the hall to her bedroom.

  I used my nail to cut through the tape and eager to see what Joel sent me. I finally got to some bubble wrap. I laughed to myself. Joel knew I loved bubble wrap. It was an obsession of mine to pop the air bubbles. I put the wrap to the side to save it for later. I found another bag inside and opened it to find a black t-shirt with white letters and a red heart reading: I Love Vampires. I absolutely adored it! I was wishing I could have just whipped out my cell to call Joel right then. He so knew it was my kind of shirt.

  Ms. Makerov came back out to the living room.

  “Look, Ms. Makerov! Isn't it cute?”

  “Oh, Little Mouska. Adorable. You wear tonight?” she asked.

  “Absolutely!”

  She laughed sweetly and observed the shirt for a moment longer. “He is good friend. Joel. You miss him?”

  “Yes. I miss him quite a bit, but we talk a lot.”

  “It's hard to keep friendship when life take two different direction. But sometime, two ways that part lead to same place later.” She cupped her warm, wrinkly hand against my cheek. I smiled at her and shrugged. I wasn't about to start crying. I'd cried enough already, and my day was just beginning.

  “Here.” She handed me a little box with a pink bow. “You open. From me.”

  “Oh, Ms. M. You didn't have to---”

  “Ah ah ah.” She held up her finger. “You open and not fight me. I saw and thought of you.”

  I opened the box and found the silver clip. It was an angel with its wings spread, holding up a banner that read: NEVER DRIVE FASTER THAN YOUR GUARDIAN ANGEL CAN FLY. I'd never seen anything like it.

  “Oh, this is too cute! Thank you so much!” I said as I leaned over to give her one of my huge bear hugs. She didn't hesitate to give me one just as good in return.

  She shoo'ed her hand at me. “Oh, it is nothing. You clip on car visor. Simple like cake.”

  “You are the sweetest lady I've ever known, Ms. M. Thank you.”

  “You are welcome, Little Mouska. You have fun tonight. I bring you soup for hangover in morning.”

  I burst out laughing. She really knew me well. “Sounds great. I'm sure I'll need it.”

  She patted me on the cheek once again and I headed out the door to the lot to find my 93 VW Bug. It wasn't much, but it got me from A to B. I liked the clip even more after sitting in my driver's seat and laying my head back to look up at it. Ms. Makerov was such a wonderful lady. Even the little things she did for or said to me made an impact on me in some way. I knew she was such a good person inside, and I guess I just kind of dubbed her my grandmother.

  “Off to work,” I groaned to myself.

  Around eleven o'clock, my cell phone was blowing up nonstop. I logged out of my computer and from the phone lines to avoid making any more collection calls. I needed a break from the monotony anyway.

  Brittonia must have texted me eighty times, but I decided to call her to let her get it all out of her system. She wanted to be sure I was still meeting the gang around nine o'clock at the Power House District, a multi-level building full of restaurants, clubs, and comedy holes.

  “We're starting out at the Shark Club tonight for the male revue,” she said.

  “What about dinner?” I asked.

  “Evika, chill. I got it covered.” She sounded frustrated that I would even think she didn't have dinner taken care of, but I knew that her idea of covering it would be bringing a bag of bagels or something. I r
olled my eyes.

  “Okay,” I sighed, “see you guys later.”

  “Tootles,” she said with fake enthusiasm. It made me wonder why the hell she was even attempting to throw me a party/get-together at all. I knew it was probably just to keep her party girl status. Whatever. Anything was better than staying at home and sulking, even if I was out with a bunch of shallow bean poles.

  After my long morning of random “happy birthdays,” a forty-five minute lunch that felt like ten minutes, and an excruciatingly long afternoon full of more random “happy birthdays,” I was finally free. The worst part of the day was over, and I couldn't wait to switch gears, finally to get out that night. I ran to my car after clocking out, only to find that it was bucking when I turned the engine. I couldn't believe it. Of all days! My AAA card was expired, so I couldn't get a free tow. And the tow would have cost me more than just the fine for leaving my car in the lot the whole weekend, so I just walked to the bus stop at the corner. There went another five bucks. Maybe it was a sign. I'd planned on getting smashed for my twenty-first, and who knows how stupid I'd be? I considered my little predicament a blessing and figured it was God's way of saving me from a horrible death, a massive twenty-car pile up caused by none other than Drunk Evika while taking a joy ride at four in the morning after getting home from total birthday-drinking annihilation. I knew how I was going to be, and there was no stopping me. I would have some drinks, and I would start thinking about her. It was better that the weapons of destruction were out of my reach.

  Once I got to my apartment, I felt restless. I didn't know what to do with myself for another three hours. I pondered a nap, but cleaning was needed. My living room was a mess, full of unfinished art projects. Thank goodness the webcam had only showed the kitchen when I talked with Joel that previous night; had he seen the mess in the living room, he would have killed me. That was just the way I was. I started something and just couldn't finish it. Hell, I couldn't even finish a good night's sleep anymore. Story of my life.