Despite all odds, Zeke was still among the land of the living, lying restlessly on his bed in his shared darkened bedroom, staring at the ceiling. Zeke’s mother, Eldora, postponed his cold-blooded murder for another time.
She lectured Ugo and Zeke for almost an hour, screaming in Spanish with no fluctuations in her voice; it remained at the top, continually, until Ugo’s father, Gerardo, interrupted her and said that it would be best to just ground them and let them go to sleep. He was probably saving his own ass because he had to work early and wanted to defuse his fuming wife as quickly as possible to maximize his sleep.
Throughout the yelling, Eldora informed the boys that Gale called her after they bolted out of the restaurant. Raylan and his group also ran. She decided to not get the cops involved. That was lucky, although there was a sense of dread that came with it, and that was the fact they owed Gale now — aside from the hundreds of dollars of plates and cups they destroyed. At any rate, that wasn’t the most troubling thought bouncing around in his head.
Naomi, Naomi, Naomi…
Her name, her face. Everything about her was zapping around in Zeke’s head like lightning trapped in a bottle. It was like he was going through the same sensations stated in the hyperbolic lyrics of a cheesy pop love song; well, in his defense, the person in his mind was a literal angel from Heaven.
During their sprint home — which is what AJ was doing; Zeke and Ugo were more like jogging as fast as they could without passing out from exhaustion. Ugo revealed that on their way to the door leading back to the factory office, he ran back to Naomi’s room and handed her his cell phone; for light and entertainment is how he justified it. He taught Naomi the pattern to get past the lock screen before leaving her. The device was one of those expensive smartphones made for gamers, so it had an insane amount of battery life that most likely would last through the night. Zeke couldn’t help but feel sickened at the thought of a divine being left alone with a device owned by Ugo that contained all his eccentricities. Zeke hoped she wouldn’t stumble upon anything that would derail her thoughts on him because anything past the COOL STUFF folder definitely would.
Would the cell phone be enough to make her feel safe in that big, dark medieval castle all by herself? Zeke wondered if worrying was degrading her. She is, in fact, a holy being, a title that came with a warrant for respect.
He did not know how old Naomi was, but she had to be much older than she looked. But then again, she had a clear, childlike quality to her personality; paradoxically, she did have times when she seemed mature and solemn. The incongruous duality was dizzying.
Zeke also realized that there was a possibility she could be in remission. He had no way of knowing if the disease was truly gone. If she had another attack, she’d be on her own.
Would sneaking out again really be the best idea? They were only home for roughly two hours. He would have to be a madman to do it. But he had a duty to his inpatient and rolled out of bed to fulfill it. He stood up and stared at Ugo, lost in his presumably lewd-filled dream—the wide smile on his face just seemed to show so, carelessly asleep in his bed. Zeke lost confidence in his plan.
Zeke sighed and started walking. He stopped before his bookshelf and picked out a book at random. He headed for the door.
Zeke easily navigated through the darkness of the upstairs hallway and sneaked down the steps. He cut through the even darker living room, dodging the wood cotton light grey sofa and the round glass coffee table in the way, not because of reflexes but because of muscle memory.
He pushed the door and stepped into the kitchen. He flipped a switch, and there was light. The features of the open modern kitchen came into focus.
The black marble floor tiles blended well with the black wood cabinets. Zeke approached the island and dropped the book on the silver granite countertop. He took a moment to look at the long and jutting green leaves of the air plant breathing in its glass terrarium and the wooden bowl of pale red fuji apples, keeping it company at the center of the counter. The apples were clamped together in a neatly formed stack.
Then he looked over to the refrigerator. A large and long magnet of a baby angel took up too much space on the refrigerator door. It looked like it came straight from a famous Italian watercolor artist. The pasty baby held a wreath in its tiny hands as it used its small gray wings to fly upwards. The magnet meant nothing to him before, but now it just makes him think of Naomi.
When his eyes lowered to the book, his brows raised. It was one about ethical medicine. Zeke took a seat on the stool, opened the book, and stared at the table of contents as a prerequisite to get his mind ready for a dark, early morning study session.
With all the excess noise from the day silenced, the subtle sounds of the refrigerator humming and the angry autumn wind howling outside and pushing against the kitchen windows become apparent. They all served as natural binaural music to keep Zeke focused, but it wasn’t like all the other study sessions this time. Anxious thoughts cluttered his mind (more than usual). He couldn’t get past the table of contents. He was staring at it for several minutes now, just thinking about Naomi; if she’s okay, if she’s scared, if she leaves...
The door creaked. Zeke turned back and froze.
A girl was standing in the doorway with one hand on the side of the door as she slowly pushed it back. She wore a loose white T-shirt, trimmed jean shorts, a beige lightweight cardigan wrapped around her waist, and gray flat sneakers. The girl, the same age as him, he concluded, leered at him with tantalizing eyes exhibiting a glimmering violet hue. She moved her hand from the door and trod toward him; her gazing and slow movement seemed like a seduction technique, and it mesmerized Zeke. As she got closer, the hue in her eyes became more overwhelming. One word clouded over all the other thoughts in Zeke’s head. A single name was all his mind’s eye could see.
He pressed his lips together for a second and then uttered, “Vee…?”
The girl stopped as if he made a command. She continued staring at Zeke unblinkingly. Zeke held her gaze and took notice of her sun-kissed skin that had a natural glow blending well with her short, dark brunette hair. She was stone-faced but beautiful all the same.
“Zeke…” she said warmly. A smile broke out across her pink lips.
Zeke’s eyes widened, and his mind was in shambles. After 3 whole years, Violet Balles would appear during a cold autumn early morning in his kitchen… wearing jean shorts. He smiled with joy, but just for a moment. He contained himself and inquired about the pressing questions at hand.
“How are you here?” Zeke started. “You’re supposed to be in Argentina.”
“I am in Argentina.”
“But… you’re here.”
“And in Argentina.”
Zeke collected his thoughts. He found nothing to help him make sense of the situation and shot a puzzled look at Violet. “What?” he exclaimed.
Violet stepped towards Zeke and settled a hand on the back of the bar stool he was sitting on. “How long has it been?”
“Three years… you’ve… grown.” Zeke averted his eyes from Violet. He realized he was out of breath and his heart was racing, and then it became still for a moment as Violet’s hand touched his cheek. He looked back at her, and there was a sting in his heart again. Her smile evolved into something even more alluring.
“And you… haven’t,” she said.
Zeke’s heart sank into his stomach, and he made a sullen pout. He must be a huge letdown for her compared to how much she blossomed over the years.
Violet stroked his cheek with the tips of her fingers. “It’s nice to see that some things stay just as wonderful as you left them. That makes me glad,” she added.
The words defibrillated Zeke’s heart, sending jolts all over his body. He blushed, turned away, and focused on his book. A thousand thoughts fired off in his head at once. His stomach was a blizzard, and he tried not to but shivered conspicuously and then smacked himself in the head for the blunder. He heard Violet snicker.
“Please, turn around. I want to see you,” Violet said.
Zeke shuddered once again and then turned back to her slowly.
His eyes locked onto her face immediately. It was enthralling.
Without warning, Violet spread her arms apart. “Can I hug you?” she asked.
Zeke raised a brow and gave her a skeptical look. Incredulous for no rational reason. He knew this but stuck with the thought of disbelief, anyway.
“Okay, for an excuse, let’s say I am doing this to prove to you I am real.”
“Lucid dreaming gives off sensations almost as real as those felt in the real world,” Zeke said. “In fact, in that state, our senses are heightened.”
Violet swayed slightly on her feet as she continued to smile at Zeke. “May I please hug you?”
Zeke studied Violet for a few seconds and found his body rising from the bar stool on its own. As he stood before her, his worst fear came to life. They were the same height now. Zeke thought about how embarrassed she was of him. He avoided making direct eye contact with her, and as he extended his arms, she embraced him before he got the chance to spread them entirely. As the clutch of her arms tightened around his neck, it was like being squeezed by a pillow. A soft one that had a fresh floral scent of bergamot orange and water lilies. The smell of rancid eggs clogged his nostrils for so long; inhaling something so fruity and harmonic was exciting. Violet didn’t say a word and just kept tightening her grip and pressed her face into him.
A ball of warmth appeared in the center of his chest and scattered. Zeke made a mile-wide smile and dared to raise his hands behind Violet. He wrapped his arms around her and closed his eyes. While staring at the back of his eyelids, he watched a movie, replaying the moments he had experienced with her. Providence overtook him.
“I’ve missed you so much, Ezequias,” she muffled.
You might be reading a stolen copy. Visit Royal Road for the authentic version.
Her pronunciation of his name was seamless. It always sounded better coming out of her lips than anyone else he knew.
Finally, she let go of him; he released her as well, and she stepped back. “Sit,” she said.
Zeke planted himself on the stool, and Violet sat on the one beside him. They both turned, facing forward at the cabinets and appliances.
“Why—How are you here?” Zeke asked once again.
Violet looked at Zeke, then reached and scrabbled away at the curls hanging off his nape. “I’m not here. I’m in Argentina.”
Zeke decided to forget about it. She clearly didn’t intend on giving him a straight answer, but she was, in fact, real. What was going on?
Violet twirled a strand of Zeke’s hair with her finger. “Even your hair is still the same, Rulitos. Does your mom still do it for you? Is she still cutting it when it gets too long?”
“I do my hair on my own… I let her cut it when she wants.”
Violet chuckled. “Adorable.” She pulled her finger away from the curl, crossed her legs, and rested her hand under her chin. “Ezequias, we need to talk.”
“About what?”
“The Tainted Generation.”
Violet analyzed him sternly. Almost as if she was waiting for a certain reaction. Zeke just stared back with a vacant expression.
“Hmph. So, you know nothing.” She sighed. “Where to start…?” Violet’s eyes wandered around the kitchen and then darted back to Zeke abruptly. “You’ve experienced some weird things recently, right?”
Zeke focused on her beaming violet eyes, trying to come up with an answer. He opened his mouth, but nothing came out.
“Magic-related?” she added.
“Wha-What?”
Violet sighed once more. “I felt your Mana Pores open up, Ugo’s as well, and then I learned that somebody broke the Great Seals on the same day. I didn’t even know that was possible. A part of me thought that you two were involved, which got me excited, but that doesn’t seem to be the case. Still, it can’t be a coincidence. I know you and Ugo used magic just a few hours earlier. What caused it? Were you two attacked? Werewolf? Goblin? Ghost? Demon?”
Zeke flinched at the last word.
“Oh, so a demon attack? Ni a palos! You two fended off against a demon on your own?”
“Okay, I’m definitely dreaming. This is my brain’s way of dealing with recent supernatural events. That’s what I get for ignoring my need for sleep.”
“Rulitos, haven’t we already established that I am real? You’re not sleeping. I said, ‘Mana Pores,’ do you know what those are? I don’t think so. How can your brain tell you something you’ve never heard before?”
“My brain could clearly make things up for an explanation.”
“That is plausible but not true. Listen, think of the opening of your Mana Pores as like… your first period.”
“Yeah, great referential for me to use. I can definitely relate to that.”
“With the Mana Pores open, we can harness the energy that is spread throughout the universe to use magic. Mana seeps easily into our souls. For people like us, we just need to go through a certain experience, and we’re good to go.”
“‘People like us?’ What does that mean?”
“You. Me. Ugo. And 8 other lucky bastardos are part of the Fourteenth Tainted Generation of Healers.”
“‘Healers?’”
“Doctors, physicians, exorcists, necromancers, enchanters, diviners, vicars…” She removed her hand from under her chin and shifted her position, switching the leg crossed over the other. “We’ve been called many things throughout the ages. But we’re most commonly known as Healers,” Violet explained. “Nobody knows why, but there’s always a group of 11 individuals, all born in the same year, who have a great affinity with Mana and are blessed with other gifts from the universe. We’re the 14th version of the select few. The angels don’t like us.”
“What?”
“No, that’s a euphemism. They hate us. They’d send all of us to Hell if they could.”
“But why?”
“The same reason why this country is always complaining about immigrants.” Violet folded her arms and pulled back into her seat. She flashed a smile. “We took their jobs.”
“They don’t like us because we can use magic?”
“Everybody can use magic, Rulitos. Even animals, plants, and objects have connections with Mana. It’s what Healers use that magic for… curing people,” she said. “It’s the angels’ duty to protect and cure humanity of any ailment, but only the faithful ones. Anyone they deem unworthy of their grace doesn’t deserve to be saved. And Healers cure anybody they can. Anybody they want.”
“Angels used to work with Healers at one point, but they got too ‘arrogant’ according to the angels. ‘Arrogant’ is what the angels like to call any human who uses their brain to think for themself. The angels are just jealous of us.”
Zeke was stupefied by what he was hearing. Violet’s anti-authoritarian attitude was nothing to be shocked about; she was always like that, but there’s a difference between talking smack about a middle-aged principal and an immortal agent of God. This was beyond not showing respect to adults. She badmouthed like it was nothing.
Zeke gulped and asked, “Why would angels be jealous of humans?”
“Because we can use Black and White Magic, therefore, we have a larger access to spells.” Violet read the look of confusion on Zeke’s face. She explained, “Black Magic is the kind you use to inflict curses and, overall, cause harm, the fun one. While White Magic would be the opposite of that. The most advanced kind of White Magic can inflict damage, but it has to be done with completely noble intent, and that’s the kind angels use for fighting. Generally speaking, in combat, during a clash between the two, the one with the highest output wins.”
Zeke lurched forward, firing a befuddled look at Violet. The hurricane of thoughts storming rampant in his head aggravated. He lost touch with reality at that point. He controverted himself repeatedly, and one question remained the most prominent. “Vee… how do you know this?”
“I just told you. I’m part of the same generation as you.”
“That doesn’t clear up anything!”
“Don’t shout, Rulitos,” she said.
He winded down like a tired puppy. “Sorry,” he mumbled.
“My Mana Pores opened up 3 years ago.”
“So, after you left. What caused it?”
“Ironically, it was the things who least wanted humans to access Mana. Angels.” Violet’s grin became chilling.
Zeke was afraid to ask for specifics. She had the same Machiavellian look on her face she’d wear whenever she thought back to a cunning scheme of hers that went according to plan. Most of the time, they were of the violent variety. Zeke studied her again, mulling over the possible thoughts swirling in her mind.
“From there. I spent every waking moment learning everything.”
“Everything about what?”
“Everything. Everything about everything.”
“Does that mean you’re a master of magic now or something?” Zeke chuckled.
“I guess you can say that.”
Zeke’s face went blank. “You can do magic?”
“I just told you that everybody can use magic. Rulitos… come on, I know you are way smarter than this,” she said. Violet raised her hands, showing her palms. “It’s all about the hands. They’re the fundamentals of magic.”
Zeke thought back to when Ugo inexplicably summoned the blue surgical knife and the beggar’s hand gesture he used.
“Most spells can’t even be done without them,” she said. Violet’s eyes wandered around the kitchen again. “Okay, so where was I…?” she snapped her fingers and looked back at Zeke. “Oh, yes... angels can’t use Black Magic. The reason they can’t is that they have to watch the purity of their soul. An angel’s soul is only composed of purity.”
“I think that goes without saying.”
“A soul’s purity is another fundamental of magic. We can view it through the lens of an RPG game.”
Zeke grinned. It was a pleasant surprise to learn she was still quite versed in the geek domain.
“Imagine that every being across the many realms has a Gauge for their purity levels, right? From zero percent to a hundred percent. Angels’ souls are always at one hundred percent. If they lose just one percent of their purity, they lose their wings.”
“And become human?”
“Well… something similar to one. Their bodies don’t function the same as one. It’s a whole new being altogether,” she clarified. “Black Magic lowers any being’s purity levels. White Magic increases it. As you may have guessed, demons can’t use White Magic because they have no purity. This is where our advantage comes in as humans. We can freely move up and down the purity spectrum, alternating between White and Black Magic. We can cure ailments much faster than angels and find diseases they can’t even diagnose properly on their own.” Violet uncrossed her legs, reached for the fruit bowl, and grabbed an apple. The tower collapsed. “Anyway, there are 11 specific roles for each member of the Tainted Generation to fill. We discovered that there are two missing spots for the Surgeon and the Diagnostician. Those roles belong to you two. I’m sure you two can figure out who has which.” She said and then bit into the apple.
Zeke stared at her as she took a couple more bites of the apple and then got up.
“Are you just going to leave?” Zeke asked, alarmed.
“‘Leave’? I was never here.” She smiled, holding the apple in her hand, and walked toward the door.
Zeke sprang out of his seat and ran up to her. “Wait!”
She halted and turned back to him, freezing him in place just as their noses brushed against each other. Zeke hopped back in an instant.
“You’re still so adorably awkward,” she said with a light snicker.
Zeke laughed nervously and looked down at the black tile floor. “You can’t just leave. We have so much we need to talk about. And it’s not just this whole demon and magic business.”
Violet lifted his chin with her finger. “I know, Ezequias, I know, but not now, okay?” she said sweetly, touching his face. “Oh, look at you. I can tell how sleep-deprived you are by just looking at you.” She took another bite of the apple. “You need sleep, Rulitos.”
She withdrew her hand from his cheek, turned it over with the palm facing up, and pushed her thumb and forefinger against each other. “Get some rest,” she said right before specks of sparkling dust sprayed out of her hand and into Zeke’s face.
Everything became pitch black, and he lost control of his body. It felt light all over and propelled downwards. Something caught him. A warmth took over as a pair of arms entangled him. His body moved again, gliding across the floor as he heard a soft chortle tickle his ear.
“Che. You still weigh nothing.” Was the last thing he heard as he was pushed back into his seat, and his head was gently placed onto the ethical medicine textbook.
He heard a door creak open, and then silence took over to accompany the darkness.
----------------------------------------
“Ezequias!” Eldora called.
Zeke shot up in his seat and then looked at his mother in a dazed state.
Eldora, a slender Columbian woman with short, curly hair, glanced at the book and then frowned. “Mijo. What’s the point of studying so hard if you don’t even have the energy to go to school?” she sighed and walked over to the sink. “I hope you get ready in time.”
Zeke rose from his seat, rubbed his eye, and then paused. “Mom. Have you spoken to Violet’s parents recently? They’re still in Argentina, right?”
She took a glass from the cupboard and then stopped to arch a brow. “Hm?” She filled the cup with water. “Ezequias… the Catholic program Violetta’s parents set her up for is a long-term process. You’re probably not going to see her for another 4 years.” Eldora turned back to Zeke and gave him a sad look. “I’m sorry, but I think it’s time for you to move on already.”
Zeke scratched his head. “See ya later, Mom.”
Just as he turned around, Eldora noticed the apples sprawled on the wooden bowl. “Oh, mijo, why did you have to ruin my tower?” she asked.
Zeke’s eyes flew to the bowl, and he contemplated.
Before the wretched thought could fully manifest, another harrowing one came out of nowhere to substitute it.
His Doctor’s bag. He didn’t come home with it.