Potions Inc.

Ghosts with Heartbeats: Part Thirteen

He wouldn't leave her like this. Cliff called into work and told them he'd be taking leave for a while. He was lucky the business ran in the family.

For a few days, he slept in his car. The size of the backseat forced him to tuck in his legs and hold himself in embryo pose, broad shoulders bumping against the back of the front seat and the cold door of the car. He'd attempt sleep, fake it, then get up hours before the sun at the sound of the door to the Lydes' family cottage whipping open. He was impressed with how early the younger girls got up, was a little surprised at how one of them held the door open for him; one with sharp eyes and even sharper energy. She met his eyes and nodded.

The first morning, Lilith led him to Nyx's room, promised him breakfast and then left him there. Mentally, he wasn't sure what to do, but his body knew exactly what was needed; bring up a chair, sit down, hold her hand like she's dying.

Her room was tiny, but large for a human. Directly behind his chair was a floor-ceiling window that let in a waterfall of fresh morning light. He watched the sun rise from the corner of his eye and eventually, he was singing.

Outside the door: muffled crying, a plate gently clattering to the ground. He stopped.

Several mornings later, a knock at his car door. He looked up.

"We've got room for you," Lilith. She looked haggard, dark circles replaced the skin around her eyes, "so stop sleeping out here. The craws might get you."

He did feel the need to mention that his talons were much sharper than a craw's, but he didn't and accepted the offer. They gave him their father's old room. When he entered the tiny space, he felt like he was stepping on bones, swimming through ash. So, he avoided the place and began sleeping in that chair next to Nyx's bedside just so Lilith wouldn't come out before the sun and beg him to come inside again.

It was getting warmer and he had an idea. He didn't wait to notify Lilith, just wrote her a hastily scrawled letter that he pinned to Nyx's door before he lifted the woman onto his back and brought her down the steps and out of the house. The sun was beginning to lift, the horizon was a shimmering curtain of dimmed stars. He tried to remember the path to the windmill and found that he didn't need to trove through his memory because the thing was right there: high on a hill, propellers stagnant, white stone walls unblemished by the passing of time, ages.

With her on his back, he climbed the steps. Came to the very top of the tower and let her off.

At first, she wobbled and he hovered, ready to catch her if she fell. She met his eyes and he captured a spark of something. Wet eyes, glistening, then it was gone and she had stabilized herself. Slowly, her head turned toward the scene below the tower and she walked. Caught herself at the railing. Stared straight ahead as if the city blooming below was of no matter. As if the world beyond wasn't a world at all, but a simulation she could see beyond.

He grabbed the railing and watched her.

There were words he could have said. You remember taking me up here? Letting me see your world? But, sometimes, words are not necessary. Sometimes, words are barbs that only make things worse. His parents taught him that.

Nyx's lips moved as if she were about to speak, struggling to do so. Then, she gave up. Stared down at the ground. He took her back home.

At the front door, Lilith stood there, face overridden with hope. Cliff suffered a smile, albeit tiny, and the glow emitting from Lilith's expression changed. Soured.

Cliff still hadn't forgotten how Lilith had tried to drown Nyx.

Three days later, a knock at the door. Lilith let herself in, brought a chair and a book with her. She grabbed Nyx's hand and held it, then passed the book on to Cliff.