Skeleton Keys (on hold)

Chapter Eight

Apollo was true to his word. We spent the rest of the day working on my Scythe technique. He showed me how to spin it around and a couple of other moves for defending myself. The more I handled the scythe, the more aware I became of it, and the less foreign it felt in my hands.

Darkness had fallen outside the little windows that lined the far wall, and the growing hunger in my stomach was all I could think about. Sweat ran down my back as I watched Apollo step forward again. He swung his orange scythe around, and I moved to block it. But I wasn’t fast enough.

I cringed and dropped down to one knee, waiting for the blow that never came. I looked up at Apollo. He’d stepped back, his scythe dispersing in wisps of orange smoke.

“That’s enough for today,” he said.

With a sigh of relief, I released my key, shutting that door in my mind to return the scythe back to its key form. I was out of breath and so out of shape.

“Like I said earlier, training of some sort would do you some good,” Apollo said, and offered me a hand up.

I took it with a glare, and he pulled me back to my feet. All I wanted to do was slump back to the floor. My body ached all over, and I didn’t even want to think about how I would feel tomorrow.

“Maybe,” I said, not liking the fact that he was right.

He shrugged, headed out into the main room of the shop.

I took a few tentative stretches, trying to ease some of the soreness from my muscles, before following him. I was in the office, gathering my things when I heard the bells on the front door. I peaked out of the office door and saw Mr. Ward make his way to the counter through a gap in the curtain.

I left my purse on the desk and stepped out to meet him, but by the time I pushed past the heavy drapes, he and Apollo argued in harsh whispers over the antique bar. Anger and another expression that I had trouble recognizing, masked his delicate features. There was this energy to his anger and it resonated around him; like he could, at any moment, cause an explosion.

Apollo glanced in my direction as I stopped halfway to them. I didn’t want to intrude on their private conversation, but I felt stupid just standing there in the middle of the store. I turned to head back to the office.

“This isn’t over,” I heard Apollo say as I reached the curtain. His voice drew my attention to glance back at him. Then he disappeared in a flash of smoke.

Mr. Ward turned to me then, stepping closer. “Ah, Mary. I wanted to stop by and see how your first day went.”

“Good, I guess,” I hesitated. I hadn’t noticed the tension between Mr. Ward and Apollo the first time I saw them together in the graveyard, but since then, I could feel the animosity fill any room they both happened to be in at the same time. I knew it wasn’t any of my business, but I wanted to know what had caused the bad blood between them.

“Is everything okay? Between you and Apollo, I mean?” I finally found the courage to ask.

Mr. Ward smiled, and shrugged. “Just a difference of opinion. Really, it’s nothing to worry about.” He pulled a set of car keys from his pocket, and held them out to me. “Your father wanted me to give these to you, since I was going to be stopping by anyway. He also wanted me to tell you that he was going to be a little late, and that you could take the car home when you were ready to leave.”

I reached out and took the keys from him. I knew his ‘I’m going to be late’ speech by heart. It was one of the reasons Mom left him. I closed my eyes and held back a sigh. So much for having a conversation with my father tonight, then.

“Thanks,” I said.

“It’s not a problem. Good night.” Mr. Ward said with a sad smile and left.

I stood there, by myself in the shop for the first time, and wished I wasn’t so alone.

I sat in that creepy room again. This time on the edge of a large, wooden four-poster bed. The walls were papered in a dark, Victorian-style print. There were oil lamps, hung on the wall by the door and placed on some of the furniture throughout the room. One particular lamp sat on the vanity across the room. The flame flickered in the mirror, casting shadows along the walls. I stood, thinking about leaving. About to place my hand on the door knob, it turned on it’s own. The door opened inward, forcing me to step back as someone stepped into the room. A tall, dark haired, someone, who shut the door quietly behind him. As if he wasn’t supposed to be here.

He turned to me, and it took me a moment to recognize that it was Apollo. His hair was different, not black and orange streaked and short, but it was dark like chocolate, and fell in long waves to frame his face.

“Lily?” he whispered to me, confusion crossing his features. He stepped closer.

Apollo’s eyes grew wide with horror.

“You can’t be here, Mary!” He snatched my hand, crushing it in his grip as he pulled me towards the door.

I stumbled, tripping on the edge of the damned red ball gown I was suddenly wearing again. I pulled my hand free from his to gather my skirts up, thinking in anger that this was why I hated to wear dresses. Looking up again, I saw that Apollo was gone.

“Apollo! Wait, where are you?” I whispered harshly down the corridor. Darkness grew around me, then faded, leaving me standing on the edge of the lake. Grandpa sat on the trunk of a fallen tree, down by where the water lapped at the shore.

“There are many wonders in this world,” he was saying, talking to a young girl who sat next to him, kicking her feet. “And there’s never enough time to see them all.”

The five year-old version of myself looked up to him. “Is that why you travel all the time, Grandpa?”

“You bet, and one day, you’ll get to come with me,” he chuckled, gathering her up in a big hug that caused her fits of laughter.

I turned away as my heart tightened, remembering that day and longing to feel the safety of his hug again.

The scene changed around me yet again. I wanted to ignore whatever painful memory or weird vision of Apollo I was about to see. Exhaustion weighed me down and all I wanted to do was sink into a dreamless sleep. That was, until I saw him.

I stood in an alleyway. It was dark and wet, the rain splashing in puddles at my feet. Apollo sat against one of the brick walls, his knees pulled up as he hid his face. I could feel that something wasn’t right. No, everything was wrong.

“Apollo?” I stepped closer, reaching out.

He looked up, and his expression stopped me. It was the same express I saw earlier, the one that I couldn’t recognize. Though, this time, I saw it for what it was. Raw pain.

Rain ran down his face, hiding only the tears that fell, but not the hurt in his eyes. His shoulders shrugged as he sobbed, trying to catch his breath. Apollo uncurled from his spot, his hand reaching out for mine as the dream started to fade. White smoke gathered around me, growing thicker by the second. It snaked between us in coils as I stretched and tried to grab his hand. But it was too late.