Indra's Heart

NINETEEN

"Happy Valentine's Day!" My girlfriend yells over the old-school love songs blasting from the radio.
Her hair is slicked down, the majority of it back to its natural brunette. Assorted chocolates, ripe fruit, and red roses delicately scent the vehicle, majorly adding to the already intimate vibe.

"Happy Valentine's Day, again." I chuckle, turning into the parking lot of the modernized movie theater. It's a bit of a drive since it's located on the outskirts of the city, but I still prefer it to the deteriorating cinema near my house. Only bad memories of crow bars and guns litter my mind when I see that place.

Arya bobs her head to the beat, mindlessly fiddling with the silver jewelry around her neck. The A and the M charms fit her so well, better than I ever imagined and it blends with the rest of her icy accessories.

I made my dreams come true.

No longer will I be haunted by what could've been when I close my eyes because the wrongs have been righted and our bond is permanently renewed. Neither Jamal nor Lauren took their rejection well, but none of that matters to me as long as Arya and I are realigned. Sure, we've still got a lot to work on, but whatever we haven't figured out in the past fourteen days will be solved eventually. It has to.

We mosey inside of the well-lit building at sunset, order snacks, and find our seats. The film is full of sappy romance that has more than a few people teary eyed at the halfway mark, Arya included. While nestling into my touch, she does a double take of the object around my neck, cocking her head to the side quizzically.

"Wow," she breathes, straightening her posture to get a better view. Her wet eyes reflect the yellow glow of the glass sphere as the enlarged specks swirl with excitement. "I've never noticed how beautiful your pendant is."

"...thank you." I immediately scan the darkened theater in search of Sryx or anything seemingly dangerous, but come up short. Shaking what's left of my blue raspberry slushee, I take one last sip of the faded ice before standing up to carefully maneuver through the aisle. "I'm finna go to the restroom real quick."

Arya barely acknowledges my departure, her attention already returned to the screen ahead as she digs her manicured fingers deeper into the bag of buttered popcorn. The large corridor is relatively empty. Just a couple of teenagers making out on a bench and a man in all black clothing leaning against the wall right outside of the men's restroom. Greasy shoulder length hair and a scruffy five o' clock shadow complete his unruly aesthetic.

"Are you in line?" I pause my step.

Gurgling laughter pours from his lips, startling me. Must be another junky. The metropolitan areas are crawling with all types of people. I simply bypass him with a sigh, entering the vacancy. Only the sound of a single faucet dripping and my footsteps fill the void. I'm almost finished handling business when the heavy door swings open.

A wave of discomfort nearly drowns me as I behold the panting man from the Italian restaurant with the icy blue eyes. Except, he isn't just a man unfortunately. Harkul is more intimidating standing up than he is sitting down. However, his human appearance doesn't hold a candle to the edge that his wolf form contains, combat boots on or not. The frostiness of his glare contrasts with the growing warmth around my neck, igniting an air of confidence in my step. I head to the sink and steadily wash my hands, unwilling to seem bothered. My actions falter slightly when someone else enters the restroom.

The oily-haired lunatic from before grins manically at me through the mirror. Only now do I notice his pitch black eyes and his resemblance to the man at the urinal. Younger brother, Qastir.
Throwing my trash away, I head for the door just to be sidestepped in a flash of black.

"Move." I huff, clenching my jaw.

Qastir's obnoxious cackle echoes through the stone room, rapidly filling my veins with blistering anger. Something that up until five weeks ago, wasn't common for me to feel this intensely. Grandma Lynn warned me that werewolf strength wasn't limited to just physical abilities and that rage or extreme emotion often result in uncontrollable shifting, especially for the untrained. "Get the fuck out of my way."

"Or what?" Qastir slurs, leering at the elf-eye. "You're going to call your little guard elf to save you again? I'm not scared of Her Zeniths."

"Man, what do y'all want? I don't have shit to do with the fallen kingdom or whatever it is y'all are still so amped about."

"Your life." Harkul blankly responds, stalking behind me. His face begins to morph into the animalistic half of his identity and fear smothers all but a smidgen of the fire in my chest. The past has shown me that I'm not equipped to battle one supernatural being, let alone two.

"Dad, I can't get it open!" A child yells, frantically banging on the other side of the door. "I'm gonna pee on myself!"

"Hold on, son. I've got it." An older voice coos.

Qastir moves in sync with the chubby man's shove and the door flies open, revealing two redheads with brown eyes. Both father and child nearly trip over their own feet in their hurry to the stalls. "See, you've just got to use a little elbow grease. Evening, gentlemen."

I nod at the stranger who'd unknowingly saved my life while the other two wordlessly make their leave. There is no trace of them in the corridor. It is both relieving and unnerving to have them out of my sight. Heaps of people pour out of the screen rooms and it takes a second to locate Arya. "There you are! Did you have to poop or something? You missed the end of the movie and everything."

"Uhh, yes." I snake my arm around her waist and guide her back to the car, my senses on high alert. "Tell me what happened. Did you like it?"

"Did I?" She giggles, adjusting the vents to warm her hands. Arya's long winded review of the film goes in one ear and out the other. I'm too busy checking the streets for suspicious activity, relying heavily on the elf-eye for a sign. Thankfully, It's gone cold again.

With Mr. And Mrs. Moore's out of town, my girlfriend's final Valentine's Day gift to me is received without interruption in her bedroom, aiding in a more relaxed ride back home. The strings of heart shaped balloons touching the ceiling tickle my face as I find my way to the dining table where I am served a hearty bowl of chili with a side of cornbread. "Thanks for the candy gram, mom and dad."

"You're welcome, baby." My mother brings a chilled glass of her famous peach flavored sweet tea to her lips, remnants of her tinted lip gloss staining the rim. "Did you have a good time? Oh, and good job coming home before curfew."

"Yes, ma'am." My second lie of the day comes out much easier than the first one. There's no point in raising my family's blood pressure over a situation that didn't result in bloodshed this time. Or else nine o'clock pm will surely turn into sundown or sooner.

"There will be no desserts made tonight. We've been eating chocolates all damn day." Grandma Lynn's metal spoon clanks against her empty bowl as she walks over to the kitchen sink and the rest of us chuckle, agreeing wholeheartedly. Lemon scented cleaning products and bleach replace the savory smell of dinner as the dishes are scrubbed and the counters are wiped. I head upstairs to unwind, turning in a lot faster than I planned, mentally exhausted.

The ocean broadcasts her poignant song for all to hear, for all to weep under the cast of the giant cratered sphere above. The purple star rests in the sky, ignoring my pleas and the tears that spill from my eyes are just as relentlessly as the waves that abuse the shoreline. Through my blurred vision, I admire the gold jewelry in my fist.

I love gold.

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