“Wait.”
Grabbing the bottom of my shirt, I pull it up over my shoulders, then slip it off my head, tossing it aside. “If you saw it, do you think you’d recognize it”
She laughs and turns from looking at me through the mirror, keeping her eyes locked on mine. “Sure, but that isn’t how it works, Rhyse. We don’t see her gates. Nor would we see each other’s. Why’d you take your shirt off to ask me that?”
Turning my back to her, I cross my arms over my chest.
I remember like it was yesterday when I got this tattoo, and even my artist couldn’t believe how much detail I had put into it. The wrought iron gates—matte black with dark patina and showing indications of aging—take up my entire back, starting from my hips. And the pointed arch is just at the base of my neck.
Double gates with a slight inward curve at the top; one is left open, allowing passage. Spiked finials sit along the top edges, with greenery that wraps around the pillars that sandwich the gates together. There is intricate scrollwork and filigree with sharp, angular designs.
There are vines and flowers weaved throughout the bars, all of which are pansies.Black pansies. A flower I associate with my little demon: dark, soft like velvet, and beautiful.
There is a black cat walking through the gate, and when my artist asked why, I remember saying, ‘Cats run from danger, not toward it.’
The surrounding area is desolate, and it was purposeful that the ground below the gates was dirt, dried and cracking.
“Vayl above, Rhyse… has she seen this?!” She grabs my arm and turns me to face her. “That’s exactly what she said hers looks like.”
“I know, she told me…”
She drops her gaze, looking at the floor for a moment, and then turns from me and runs out of the bathroom. I don’t hesitate to follow her.
“Butterfly, what is it?”
“I never looked anything up about her kind, because she would always tell me not to worry about it.” She pops open the laptop that Brice boughther before we left Eldritch, and begins typing away. “She isn’t here to tell me not to. Give me some time and I’ll look into it.”
“I don’t think that is important right now.”
“It is, Rhyse.” She glares over her laptop at me. “Not only because Alaric commented about the Mark… but because it’s my Phiny. I need to know.”
Groaning, I concede. “Fine…”
“There, started a web crawl. It’ll take some time.” She closes the computer and moves over the bed, plugging it in. “Don’t touch it.”
Rolling my eyes playfully, I nod. “Sure.”
She looks up to me and smiles sweetly. She’s about to open her mouth to say something when I ask, “Syd, how… did you meet Xera?”
A soft pink hue crosses her cheeks. “Oh. I found her on a bridge, just sitting there on the ledge. Thought she was going to jump.” She laughs nervously.
“I see…” I pause, wondering if I should ask what I really want to know. Fuck it, I told her about my creation, this seems trivial in comparison. “How does someone likeyoustay with someone like my little demon?” It’s a genuine question, and while I’m certain they were meant to be together, she’s the complete opposite of Xera.
The edges of her lips pinch inward before she takes a deep breath. “She gave me the ability to stay the person I am.” She fiddles with the hem of her pajama shirt. “I was bullied a lot, through high school and right into university. I’d fought with an identity crisis for years, and after losing my twin brother, boy, did I not know who I was.”
“Oh Gods, Syd?—”
She shakes her head quickly. “I’m okay… The night I met Phiny was the day of his funeral.”
My fist clenches, and I swallow roughly. “Was the bridgeyourdestination?”
I barely see the miniscule nod of her head. “She saved me, even if I’ve never put it that way to her.” A soft whimpering sound comes from her throat. “Although she was mean, like so many to me growing up, I felt oddly safe with her. Even if she was covered in blood…”
“Of course she was.”Fuck, my chest hurts. “How old were you when you met her?”
“Twenty.” So young, way too young to be contemplating suicide like that. Though I can’t fault her for feeling lost. I had brothers, but never a twin, and I’ve heard it’s like losing a part of yourself when one is no longer with you.
A soft sniff comes from her before she rubs her eyes. “I was alwayschanging who I was for people. Anyone that witnesses how Phiny treats me and thinks it’s her being mean, isn’t seeing us. She has never told me to change, even if I annoy her. Sure, she often wonders why I am the way that I am, but she’s never said,‘Change who you are’or‘Be better’or‘This isn’t the type of person you should be’. I know I’m a lot, but I think it took someone like her to handle me.”
