Suzanne Young: A Desire So Deadly

Harlin clears his throat before taking another long drink, the guilt over losing Lucy to the Shadows still haunting him. He’s never liked talking about his feelings, but he’s trying to get better at it. For now, I’m just happy he’s dealing at all. We’ve been through so much.

I touch his arm, drawing his attention. “I’m going to try one more time,” I say, nodding toward the ocean. Harlin starts to smile, trying to cover it with his palm. “Don’t laugh,” I say. “One day I’m going to surf and then you’ll owe me.”

This seems to pique his interest. “And what exactly are we betting, Claire? You better not say a latte.”

I climb to my knees and lean forward to kiss him, soft and teasing. “No,” I murmur between his lips. “It will most certainly require physical contact.”

Harlin growls his approval and pulls me closer. His tongue slides against mine, the world around us fading into white noise. My sister may be gone, but I am still right here. Harlin made sure of that.

He didn’t let me leave him that night. Instead, when Harlin saw me glowing, charging toward Lucy, he sprang. He tackled me into the water just as the light exploded, sending Lucy into oblivion.

It was chaos at first, and River rushed into the water to help pull us out. It was then that I realized my brother didn’t know me, that River had forgotten me altogether. Forgotten everything that had just happened.

I didn’t wake up for three days, and Harlin waited. Hoping. I could feel him next to me, beckoning me back from the light. When I woke up, I smiled at him and asked if I was in heaven. He told me it was better.

Harlin gives me one last kiss and then stands up. He reaches to take my hands, pulling me to my feet. There haven’t been any more Needs, no more Forgotten. They can still happen, but I don’t think they will. I’m not sure why it was different this time, but I’m not going to question it. Right now, we’re free to live our lives. At least that’s what I hope.

I slip my feet into my sandals, and Harlin and I start toward the sidewalk. My white sundress blows in the breeze. We cross the lot to Harlin’s motorcycle, and the chrome of his Harley shines in the sunlight. Harlin puts his wallet and water bottle in the side pocket before swinging his leg over the seat. He waits as I climb onto the back, putting my arms around his waist and resting my chin on his shoulder.

Harlin kicks the engine to life, and we’re ready to leave Deseo forever. But first we’ll go to Costas Bakery, where he’ll buy me a latte. We’ve been there several times, but no one remembers me. Not my parents, not my brothers. To them, I never existed. I’m a walking ghost. Once, Ezra and Soleil walked in, offering little more than a glance at me.

I have to leave my home. It hurts too much to stay.

“I love you,” Harlin says over the roar of the engine, turning his head to glance back at me. I smile, feeling a little lost, a little heartbroken. But Harlin gives me the hope to go on, to move forward.

Harlin rides out of the parking lot, and I hold on tight. He turns down the road for the bakery so I can have one last look before we head out—maybe to Portland, maybe somewhere else. We’ll start a new life.

And grow old together.

As the bells of the cathedral start to chime, I lean down to grab my backpack off the stairs. Suddenly I’m hit with heavy, bone-shaking vibrations that seem to run through my veins. They fill me up, take me over. Oh God. Not now.

“You okay?” Sarah’s voice is far away, and when I turn to her, her eyes widen. “Again?”

Before I can answer, Harlin is next to me, pulling open my backpack. “Do you have your inhaler?”

I don’t have asthma. It’s just easier to pretend that I do. How else can I explain these episodes? No one would ever believe the truth.

Harlin shakes my inhaler and holds it to my lips. My eyes meet his, and he watches as I make a good show of taking the medicine even though the inhaler’s empty.

The bells stop ringing and the humming inside me eases up, giving me time to catch my breath. My body is pulling me toward the cathedral doors, every inch of my skin aching to be inside. I don’t know why. I never do. Not until I’m there. But right now I have to get inside that church.

Harlin puts the inhaler back into my bag, his jaw tight with concern.

“Thanks,” I tell him, trying to sound calm. There are prickles of heat searing my skin. The throbbing will build slowly until I do what I’m supposed to. Resisting isn’t an option.

“You scared me.” Harlin looks away like he’s over it, but I can tell he’s still anxious. We’ve been through this before, but we both know that I’m getting worse. It’s happening more often.

The Need.

Idon’t recognize the face staring back at me. The girl in the reflection has blond hair and wears a plaid schoolgirl outfit, nothing like the white tank top and cutoffs I have on now. I hold up a handful of my hair, studying the deep brown waves as the reflection mimics my movement with her blond hair. I meet her eyes once again, trying not to panic. But as I watch, the girl slowly changes—her skin beginning to glisten, shine. Brighten.

I take an unsteady step back.

And suddenly my reflection explodes in golden light. When she’s gone, there is only me—long dark hair with pale blue eyes and olive skin. Images fill my head and I can see my entire life being written. The universe creates me: my childhood in a sleepy Colorado town, my father teaching me how to ride a bike. I hear my sister’s whispers late at night after our mother died when I was eight.

My name is Elise Landon. And I’m about to wake up.

I notice something in the back pocket of my shorts and reach for it. When I take it out and open my palm, I nearly choke on the heavy feeling that weighs in my chest. It’s like a longing for another place. Another time.

In my hand I hold a small guardian angel figurine set in a smooth, clear stone. It’s beautiful, a promise of love. Of forever.

For a brief second I remember everything about who and what I used to be. But most of all, I remember Harlin. And I wonder how he’ll find me if I’m someone else.

SUZANNE YOUNGcurrently lives in Tempe, Arizona, where she drafts novels on restaurant napkins while eating chimichangas. After earning her degree in creative writing, Suzanne spent several years teaching middle school language arts. She is also the author of A NEED SO BEAUTIFUL. You can visit her online at www.suzanne-young.blogspot.com.

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