Wish, H.R. Davison [historical books to read txt] 📗

falling back against the car.

 

I stand there staring at him, my mouth hanging open in shocked surprise at his confession. Ex-girlfriend, Lilli is DJ’s ex-girlfriend? I blink rapidly as the realization takes hold. I can’t be interested in DJ now. The only person in the whole school that has made an effort to be nice to me would be livid if I date her ex. What was I thinking about, dating him? He hasn’t even asked me out yet and I’m already planning my speech to let him down.

 

“What?” He asks standing back up straight. “You didn’t know?”

 

“No.” I say backing away to lean on my car parked behind his. “I didn’t and knowing changes everything.” The carefully rehearsed lines I had mentally prepared moments ago refuse to come out of my mouth as I stare into his eyes. “I can’t… Lilli she is nice to me…”

 

He takes a step closer to me. “Kat, don’t worry about Lilli. Don’t worry about what she thinks.” He reaches his hand out to me. “I just want to be here for you. You seemed upset. Please tell me what happened. Maybe I can help.”

 

I say the first thing that comes to mind. “Unless you can grant wishes, there is nothing you can do to help.”

 

“Three wishes to be exact!” He exclaims quoting the popular kids movie. “So what’ll it be, Master?”

 

I can’t help myself, I laugh at the silly expression on his face. “Can I wish for more wishes?” I ask playing along with the genie bit.

 

His face turns serious for a second. “No, there are rules Kat.” He says rolling his eyes in mock sarcasm. He points out one finger “Rule númerouno, no wishing for more wishes.” Extending a second finger, “Rule number two, no wishing anyone back from the dead.” Holding up the third finger on his hand he says, “And rule number three, I can’t make someone fall in love.”

 

Tears streaming down my face in laughter now, instead of sadness “DJ, I love that movie. Thank you for cheering me up.” I turn to open my car door to leave.

 

DJ runs to catch up with me before I get in my car. “Listen, Kat. I would like to see you again.”

 

I look into his face and see that he is being serious. All the humor is gone from his face, but his eyes still twinkle. I rub the spot on the inside of my arm where his thumb has been caressing me moments ago. Remembering the tingling feeling I had when he touched me. I want that again, I think to myself. “Okay.” I say.

 

“Okay? Okay?” A wide grin breaks across his face. “Great! Fantastic! It’s a date then!” He places his hands on either side of my head, his thumbs resting lightly on my temples. He quickly presses a kiss on my lips, taking me by surprise. He turns away from me without a response and gets in his car to leave.

 

I stand there momentarily dazed by what just happened. Did he just kiss me? My face felt flushed like it was on fire. All the blood rushing to my cheeks making me blush. People started crowding out of the house. Before I could embarrass myself further I get in my car and drive home.

 

DJ

 

A date, I have date with the most beautiful girl I have ever met and I am going to break her heart. There is no way I am good enough to be with her. I touch my lips. I wonder if she felt the spark I felt when I kissed her?

 

Flopping back onto my bed my thoughts racing, I need to work off this energy. I quickly change into sweats and head to my home gym. Blasting the music I jump on the treadmill setting it to nine. Before long I am drenched with sweat, my breath coming out in bursts. In though my nose, out through my mouth, steady as she goes.

 

I am broken out of my trance when the music abruptly turns off. Looking at the doorway I see my mom standing there, hands on her hips and a sour look on her face. Even in the middle of the night she exemplifies perfection. Her hair is curled and styled, her makeup flawless. She is even wearing a business suit and heels. “Daniel Jericho Saraf what exactly are you doing on the treadmill blasting music at full blast at one in the morning?”

 

Stepping down from the treadmill I hang my head in mock shame. “Sorry mom. I just needed to run.”

 

“DJ.” She says more softly this time, the sour look now replaced with what she must imagine concern looks like. “Is everything okay?”

 

“Yeah sure, everything is fine.” I mumble as I towel off the sweat from my face and neck. “I just needed to work off some steam, I swear.” I say crossing my heart.

 

I can’t talk to my mom about Kat. She wouldn’t understand. She has always been business first, family later. I sometimes wonder if she even loves my father. She treats him like a business partner not a life partner, the perks of an arranged marriage, and what I get to look forward to if I live long enough.

 

With an exasperated sigh she says “If this is about the upcoming trial you know you have nothing to worry about.” She grabs some sanitizing wipes and starts cleaning the treadmill as she talks. “I was worried when I was your age too. But you are smart and compassionate and more than capable of passing the trial…” She trails off with a sigh. “Is this about the summons again? We talked about this. The Saraf family has pledged their allegiance to the Thirteen. We will fight and we will win and then we can live our lives as we were meant to, not hiding in plain sight like some deranged freaks from a fairy tale.” She finishes with a huff, throwing the dirty wipes in the trash on her way out.

 

My mother walks out of the room. Her say is final, but I do not agree with her assuredness that we will win. I spent months after the summons pleading with her to let me out of our family’s contract, to no avail. I plotted and schemed, not even magic could break the seal. A seal placed there thousands of years ago by my ancestors. I look at my bare wrists, even though nothing is there I can feel the shackles all the same.

Kat

 

The dream is the same every night, except for tonight. Something is different. Something is wrong. The flames are higher. The rain is burning my skin. The smoke is suffocating me. I can’t breathe. Struggling to draw a breath I claw at my throat.

 

“Kat, sweetie…” My mother calls from below the bridge.

 

I know her destiny. I can’t stop myself from going to edge of the bridge and looking down. Wheezing and gasping to breath I fall to my knees and crawl over the broken glass to the guardrail. My hands and knees bleeding, tears running down my face I peer over the gap. Below is the same as always.

 

The image of my mother reaching out to me, trying to tell me something I can’t make out over the roar of the flames below. Only something is different. I am looking over from a different section of the bridge. I have an alternate view this time.

 

A figure is walking under the bridge. Shrouded in shadows I am unable to clearly see details, but it’s someone tall and thin, a slight frame walking quickly out of my line of sight below me.

 

“HEY! HEY!” I try to shout out, but the smoke makes it no louder than a whisper. I can’t scream.

 

Just as the figure is about to pass from view it looks up at me. I recoil in fear. There is no face, just darkness with glowing red eyes. The eyes looking back at me are a swirling mix of red and orange as if they are a part of the fire below. The figure pulls a hand from its coat pocket. It is a skeletal hand, a single boney finger points at me. He speaks one word in a raspy voice that feels like it is coming from the center of my head. I clamp my bleeding hands over my ears and yet I still hear it. “Bezaliel”

 

************

 

Waking up with a start I grab my cell phone from the night stand next to my bed to check the time, 6:13am. Great, what a way to start the weekend. Rubbing the sleep from my eyes I decide I might as well get up. Before the image leaves my mind I grab my sketch pad and pencil. Relaxing back onto the pillows of my bed I trace out the strange figure I saw in my dream. Rarely do I use color in my drawings, but once I am finished I tint the eyes with red. The finished product is even more disturbing than it was in my dreams.

 

What was that about? For months I have been having the same dream, night after night, as if it were set on an infinite loop in my brain. What happened to change it now?

 

A soft knock at my door breaks my train of thought. “Kathryn? Are you up?” My father says softly from the other side of the closed door.

 

“Yes.” I say, getting up from my bed I shamble over to the door. Even though it is unlocked my father waits for me to open it for him before entering. One thing I value is my privacy. Thankfully my dad understands that. “I didn’t realize you were going to be home today.” I say rubbing sleep from eyes as I open the door “It’s early. What time did you get home?”

 

“Just now. I was hoping we could have breakfast together. I need to go back to the office after that…” My dad stands at the threshold of my door fidgeting with his tie, loosening and tightening it, again and again as he speaks.

 

My dad is a nervous man. He can’t sit still and when he has bad news he starts to fidget. I wonder what it is this time. I know he loved my mom. He loved her with every ounce in his body, but when she died a part of him died. He changed. He now spends every waking moment at his office. Sometimes he will leave for weeks at a