Chapter Text
When the twins were eleven years old, Court came home from work with a rotisserie chicken that he’d ‘slipped’ into his work bag and a mixture of deli sides that were too old to sell but too good for Court to watch be thrown away. Dinner was unusually silent, which set off all of Court’s alarms. He eventually set down his fork, finished chewing, wiped his mouth, and then calmly asked his brothers what they’d broken. They protested loudly, and dare Court say convincingly, until Ryland let it slip, much to Colt’s dismay, that they had a question for him but he had to ‘promise not to get mad first’.
This was a common request from the two of them, from most children, and they would never know how much it bothered him. The first time they’d used those words he lay in bed until the sun rose again the next day, without a minute of sleep, wondering what he’d done to make them so scared of him. He convinced himself that their mother’s eyes of his had disappeared when she did, leaving only the image of their father in their place. Admittedly, he had gotten mad at them before. He tried to tell himself that anyone would have in his position, but it didn’t change the truth of the matter. He’d gotten mad the day five year old Ryland stuck his fingers through their backyard chain-link fence despite his warnings, trying to pet a territorial mutt on the other side who promptly bit down hard on his innocent hand. Ryland had a fear of dogs ever since; did he fear Court as well? And the day six year old Colt tried to climb up the stair balusters from the outside, slipping from the overlook and falling into Court’s outstretched arm, barely making it there in time. He’d managed to hold him tight before they both hit the ground, but the extra weight was hard to counteract in real time, and Court gave himself a concussion against the wooden floor from forgetting to tuck his chin in. He’d learned since then how to fall properly.
He gathered his broken heart, simply nodding in response to Ryland’s request.
Ryland’s eyes sparkled with hope, “Can we make a fort?”
Court blinked, the question catching him off guard. Did eleven year olds make forts still? Court knew his own childhood couldn’t be used as a benchmark, and tried to never hold them to whatever standard their father had. Too often he was learning how to both raise and be a child, afraid he wasn’t particularly good at either.
“Like a…pillow fort?”
Ryland nodded, eyes no longer confident.
“That’s fine. Why didn’t you just make one while I was at work?” Court didn’t mean to sound dismissive.
Ryland avoided eye contact, so Colt answered, “We were waiting for you.”
Court’s shoulders softened. He tried not to smile, but it reached his eyes anyways.
“And…dad never let us use the sheets. Said we’d ruin them. We just wanted to…nevermind,” Ryland said.
Court’s grin fell, he bit the urge to tell Ryland that their dad wasn’t there anymore.
“Finish the salad and then we’ll start. Deal?”
“Deal!” Ryland answered.
Colt frowned, “But I hate tomatoes!”
“Then give them to your brother.”
“But what do I get in return?” Colt sulked.
“A life without being forced to eat tomatoes.”
Colt mumbled something about that being unfair as Ryland gladly ate the tomatoes out of Colt’s bowl.
That night the three of them made the largest fort Court could manage. Every couch cushion was used, every blanket and sheet repurposed. It was held up by chip clips, clothes pins, and curtain rods, spanning from one side of the living space to the other. The floor was an amalgamation of their twin mattresses, pillows, sleeping bags, and a random assortment of stuffed animals and winter coats.
Colt and Ryland put on a shadow-puppet show, teaching Court how to make dogs, bunnies, and birds with their hands – something they’d learned from their friends at school. They laughed so hard when he couldn’t get the fingers right that he started getting it wrong on purpose, but they were smart and caught on quickly. The three of them fell asleep under the bedsheet canopy that night, and every other night that week until the novelty wore off and the twins asked if they could sleep in their own beds again.
These were the memories that played in Court’s mind when he woke up in the early afternoon to find Henry still asleep in his arms and his little brothers sprawled across the all too familiar amalgamation of mattresses, sleeping bags, pillows, and jackets that were strewn across their dorm floor to accommodate their two extra guests. He smiled fondly, wondering if the twins even remembered that week, now over a decade ago, if it had meant as much to them as it did to him, and if they knew that the best memory of his childhood didn’t happen during his childhood at all.
Henry nuzzled into Court’s neck, a habit of his when he knew Court was awake but didn’t want him to leave. Court had a habit of jumping out of bed the second his eyes were open, but today was different. There was nowhere more important than being right where he was. Court held Henry closer, a thumb rubbing at the back of his neck.
“I can feel you thinking,” Henry whispered, making sure they didn’t wake the others.
“There’s a lot to think about,” Court whispered in response. He tried to give him a convincing smile.
Henry tugged at Court’s hip, tilting the larger man until he was hovering on his side over Henry, their legs entangled and chests mere inches apart. Henry’s natural color had returned, the brightness in his eyes alit in the soft glow of the afternoon sun streaming in as streaks through the blinds behind them. Court was sure he’d never seen anything more beautiful.
Henry leaned in, closing his eyes and trusting his lips to find Court’s as they’d done countless times before. Court deepened the kiss, rubbing his nose against Henry’s soft cheek and relishing in its warmth. They kissed slowly, mouths moving together cautiously, starving men staring at a stockpile of food worried they’d take too much at once. Court was convinced he was still dreaming. His head swam in a comforting daze, his body enveloped in a warmth that couldn’t possibly be real. Henry’s mouth was hot against his, his hands strong. Every touch was more and more convincing. Court turned Henry further on his back, his forearm still cradling Henry’s head. His hips pressed down against Henry’s thighs, a fear-driven possessiveness taking over his mind and body.
They kissed silently, their neediness softening after every kiss, not wanting to push too far. Court opened his mouth against Henry’s, letting the feeling of Henry’s warm, wet tongue fill his mind with want, holding himself back by a leash before releasing it and diving in for another taste of Henry’s soft lips against his. He was so close, so warm, Court couldn’t think about anything else besides the feeling of Henry’s body against his.
He refused to open his eyes after Henry pulled away, too scared of what he’d find if he did. He leaned in again, his lips finding the edge of Henry’s jaw instead of his mouth. He let out a near silent whimper, only opening his eyes when he felt Henry’s thumb on his cheeks, wiping away tears he didn’t realize he’d shed.
“Shh,” Henry whispered, thumbing comforting circles on Court’s cheekbones.
Court grasped Henry’s hand in his against his cheek, kissing it once before letting it go.
Henry tried to smile, but concern was still etched on his face.
“What’s wrong, baby?”
Court didn’t know what to say. Nothing was wrong anymore, the impossible had occurred. Henry’s skin was warm against his, his lips kiss-bitten red, and cheeks flushed. The burn that stretched from his temple, down the side of his neck, and across his shoulder and chest was still raised and red. He was alive. So why was Court so scared?
“Is this…real?” Court answered.
“I don’t know,” Henry said, his voice barely a whisper. He brushed a few strands of hair out of Court's face, but they fell back down with gravity, “Does it matter?”
Court shook his head burying it in Henry’s neck. He closed his eyes again, letting himself focus on the feeling of the warmth between them that wasn’t there the night before.
“If this is a dream,” Court whispered under Henry’s ear, “then I don’t want to wake up.”
Henry held him tighter in agreement, feeling guilty for things he still didn’t understand. He hated what Court went through. Hell, he hated what he went through, but still hadn’t processed what any of it meant. It was all a blur, flashes of scenes that didn’t quite make a whole picture. He was hoping Court and his brothers would have answers, but they seemed to know even less than he did.
“Can I ask…” Henry’s voice trailed off nervously before he found the courage to continue, “...what you saw? From your perspective?”
Court went to ask for clarification, but he knew he was stalling.
“I saw a bright light. Like a spotlight being turned on, but brighter. I closed my eyes and held you against me, but I couldn’t see you. Then I saw…boxes. A stretch of empty highway through open fields. Then a quiet street of row houses. And a small apartment in New York. I saw…”
Henry waited for Court to finish, but he never did.
“What is it? What did you see?”
“I saw a crib…and then a little girl. She sat in your lap while you painted by a window. She ran to me when I walked in; when I came home. You followed, trying to wipe the wet paint off your hands but they were covered. Even your wedding ring. You turned away from me, saying you’d only stain my white shirt if I got any closer, but I kissed you anyway. And then,” Court paused again, collecting himself, “and then I opened my eyes, and you weren’t there anymore. You were staring up at me, still in my arms, but you weren’t there. And I thought for a second that, if I was quick enough, I could make a deal for God to take me instead, but he didn’t listen. You were gone. And I couldn’t figure out how it could have happened. Because I was there, I was holding you. Out of all places, how could you have died in my arms? I should have been able to protect you. Why couldn’t I have gone with you?”
Henry looked devastated, his jaw and fists clenching in grief that had manifested as anger, “Shit. What the fuck. What the fuck is going on?” Henry’s voice broke, waking Colt up from a deep sleep. Henry nestled back into Court’s neck, trying to process what he’d told him.
He whispered a quiet, “I’m sorry,” to Court in response, not knowing what else to say as he used Court’s neck to hide his tear-stained face and shirt to dry it. He wanted so badly to reassure him. To tell him all those things he saw were going to come true. To promise him the rest of Henry’s life was his, and that it always was. But the shuffle of sheets mere feet from them reminded him that they weren’t alone, and he was sure Court would appreciate that they waited until they were alone to finish the conversation.
Colt sat up, his hair aglow with the bright sunlight that shined in from the window behind him. Ryland stirred in response. The two of them were never awake without the other for long. Colt’s head snapped towards Court and Henry. Court didn’t need to be a twin to know what was on his mind. He nodded at Colt, assuring him they were both still 1) alive and 2) not invisible.
They spent some time before falling asleep a few hours prior trying to figure out what had happened to Henry, and could only agree on one thing: none of them knew what was going on. Court at first thought the peephole was broken, but when Colt stood in front of it he was entirely visible. This spurred a short, panicked five minutes where 50% of the people there were concerned about Henry being a vampire. However, he was entirely visible in mirrors and seemingly fine in the sunlight. They agreed to test him again in a few weeks, just in case.
What was perhaps more concerning, was when Henry went to change his clothes. Colt threw him one of his clean t-shirts, and right as Henry went to catch it his whole body disappeared. This prompted a lot of screaming and then some banging from the neighbors telling them to quiet down, it was midterms after all, but it was hard to be calm when your friend who was dead not 24 hours ago disappeared in front of your eyes.
Luckily, he appeared a few long seconds later, just as confused as all of them, not even realizing what had happened. Court had stepped towards him, not proud of himself, and poked him in the shoulder, ‘just to make sure’. Colt then needed about ten minutes of consoling and a cup of coffee to be convinced that all four of them weren’t dead and stuck in some sort of college limbo between worlds. They fell asleep from exhaustion pretty soon after that.
Colt stood up, trudging to the bathroom. The sound of the water running filled the room before Colt stepped out of the bathroom, pacing as he brushed his teeth. He turned his back and Ryland gasped.
Colt turned around, his arms up in confusion, “What? Never seen your own back before? Stop staring at me like that, perv.”
Ryland scrambled out of bed, turning Colt around despite his protests. Ryland’s eyes were wide, looking back at Court who had nothing to say.
“Would you get off and let me brush my teeth?” Colt dripped foam on his way back to the sink, spitting out the remaining toothpaste and rinsing his mouth.
“What is it?”
Ryland turned him so his back was facing the mirror. He turned his head to see.
A healed, white scar spread in fractals away from the center of his spine, contrasting against his sunkissed skin.
“What the fuck?” was the only thing Colt managed to say.
Ryland’s hand met the back of his own neck, rubbing it with worried eyes.
“How long have you had that?”
Colt looked at him like he was crazy, “What do you mean? Never! Never, Ry, I’ve never had this!”
“You were hiding it? The pain? Like Court was yester–”
“No! No, I actually would have been very annoying about it actually, if I knew my spine got hit by lightning!”
Ryland put his hands up, recognizing Colt’s point.
“And you’re sure you’ve never…burned your back before?”
“Oh wait… yeah actually last year I got struck by lightning and it broke my back and I didn’t tell anyone and then I forgot all about it until this very moment…” Colt’s sarcastic face contorted into confused anger once more, “Of course I’m sure!”
“Then how is it healed?”
“I don’t know, Ry! If I did then I’d probably be way less freaked out right now!”
Ryland spotted the couple stealing a couple more kisses, still intertwined in the makeshift bed, “Alright, gross, can we focus, please?” Ryland begged the couple, clapping his hands together, “Court, show us your arm again. We can compare the markings. Its dressings should be changed again by now anyways.”
Court stood up with a sigh, rather enjoying his previous position. He began to unwind the bandages, but with only one arm Colt was unsatisfied with his speed – he walked over and helped him undo the rest. The four of them were silent as the last of the bandages fell to the ground, revealing a thin, white, branching scar down his left arm.
“It’s healed,” Ryland said.
“No shit, Sherlock,” Colt said.
“How is it healed?”
“Please stop asking me questions. Actually, I’d like to revisit my previous hypothesis which is that we’re all dead already!”
“Hey!” Court yelled sharply, getting their attention, “You,” he pointed at Ryland, “Stop stating the obvious, it’s just putting everyone else on edge. And you,” he pointed at Colt, “Stop being dramatic,” both twins looked offended.
“Fine, genius, we’ll do it your way. What now?” Ryland folded his arms across his chest.
“Strip, we need to check you too.”
“Ew, no!” Ryland held his arms closer.
“We’re family!” Colt stated, “Ryland we literally have the same body, what could you possibly be self-conscious about.”
“You just called me a perv for looking at your back and now suddenly you want to see me naked?!”
“I don’t want to see you naked, I want to figure out what the fuck is happening!”
“Fine!” Ryland took his cardigan off with a huff, pulling at the bottom of his t-shirt before pausing as his eyes landed on a mark on his now bare elbow that he didn’t recognize. Colt and Court spotted it too, pulling his forearm towards them and twisting it back and forth for them to get a better look. Ryland’s mark was smaller, only taking up a small, triangular space around his elbow and upper forearm; it too was healed.
“That’s not possible…I didn’t feel anything. How could it be–”
“Welcome to the club,” Colt grumbled.
“But it didn’t hurt! Court was in pain. Right, Court?”
Court looked like he was going to deny it before deciding that now was not the time to lie, “It was…close to the worst pain of my life,” Court glanced towards Henry.
Ryland scratched the back of his head, a pout forming on his lips. He knew it must have been pretty bad for Court to admit something like that to all of them.
Henry had made his way to the window during the drama, cracking it open so he could smoke.
“Hey! No smoking,” Colt gestured towards the dormitory signs and sprinkler system.
Henry shrugged, pointing at the window, “I died yesterday, I’m allowed.”
Ryland sighed, they didn’t have time to argue about cigarettes, it was best to move on.
“When did it stop?” Ryland turned back towards Court, “When did the pain stop?”
“He’s not going to remember exactly when–” Colt was cut off by Court’s answer.
“Early this morning, before Henry arrived. When we fell asleep sitting up. I was in a lot of pain. I debated raiding the first aid kid again, but settled for the vodka. I was worried because Colt had fallen asleep on my arm almost immediately, and I didn’t want to wake him up. But the pain faded quickly after that, so I forgot about it.”
Ideas lit up Ryland’s eyes, he turned to his desk, ripped the dry-erase board off the wall, and collected some dry-erase markers before taking some notes.
“Tell me everything you remember about the pain from yesterday. Starting with the lightning strike. Or…what we’re calling the lightning strike.”
Court retold the series of events, leaving out nothing besides his emotions.
Ryland took notes furiously, onto something that made the others uneasy. When he was done, he showed them the board. The events Court listed were strewn across it in chronological order, with arrows and circles around different names and events.
“Do you want some red string?” Colt teased.
“Very helpful, Colt, no.”
“What is it, Ry?” Court got them back on track.
“Okay, let’s review,” Ryland used the dry-erase marker as he spoke to accentuate his points, “We all get struck by…whatever it was, Colt and Court are up first, not near each other, Court stays with Henry and Colt runs to me.”
“We know.”
“Shh, just listen. Court notes the burn immediately but is otherwise preoccupied by…”
Henry casually nodded in acknowledgment, but Court didn’t look happy about the reminder.
“...I wake up expecting pain but I don’t have any–”
“Me too.”
“Colt as well, I’m getting to that. Colt is by my side, checking for injuries but I don’t have any, or so we think. We get home, notice Court’s burn, I wrap it, but it still hurts. We fall asleep sitting up, me on Court’s right and Colt on Court’s left. Colt falls asleep, Court drinks some more, and the pain is gone soon after. What’s the one thing all the injuries have in common?”
“They’re shaped like lightning.”
“Or tree branches?”
“Or fractals.”
“Sure, but the healed ones, what do they have in common?” Ryland followed up.
There was a moment of silence before Court stated, “Colt.”
“Precisely,” Ryland seemed proud of himself.
Colt’s face was twisted in confusion, “I don’t get it.”
Ryland sighed, “Oh come on, Colt, it’s right in front of you.”
“No, that I get. But um, from where I’m sitting it kind of sounds like you’re convinced that I have magical healing powers,” Colt let out a breathy laugh, his hands finding his hips.
Ryland shrugged, not sure what else to say besides, “Henry can turn invisible…why can’t you have magical healing powers?”
Colt turned towards Court, “Are you hearing this?”
Court nodded in response.
“You don’t seriously believe him, do you?”
Court put his hands out slowly, at a loss, “Henry died, came back to life, turns invisible when startled, and my severely burned arm healed within hours of getting injured. I have no idea what to believe anymore.”
Colt looked like someone had knocked the wind out of him.
“I can’t believe this. How am I the most sane person here, hm? Henry?” Colt looked towards the window, hoping to find another sane man. Unfortunately for him, Henry simply shrugged before taking the nearly finished cigarette out of his mouth and putting it out on his own forearm.
Court, Colt and Ryland all jumped up to protest, but none of them got there in time. Henry let his skin burn, not even blinking from the pain.
“What the fuck is wrong with you, why would you do that?!” Court was screaming at him, his foot already putting out the remainder of the cigarette, holding onto Henry’s wrist as if he was made of paper.
Henry apologized weakly, sorry that he made them upset. He reached out for Colt’s hand and Colt nearly pulled away but let him take it. Henry placed Colt’s hand over the wound, letting Colt’s fingers wrap around his thin forearm.
Colt sighed, his eyes closing in disbelief, “You’re fucking crazy! This is insane.”
“It’s worth a shot.”
“No, it isn’t!” Court protested as well.
“Oh, I think I’m gonna be sick,” Colt mentioned, his face looking pale.
“You mean if it works or if it doesn’t work?”
“Either way.”
Henry pulled Colt’s fingers away finally, revealing a healed burn underneath. He grinned, amused.
“No fucking way,” Colt sat down on the makeshift fort on the floor, overwhelmed.
“I was right,” Ryland sounded more shocked than proud.
Court began to pace, making Colt more woozy than he already was,
“For the record, I still think we’re all officially dead.”
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
The men argued themselves into silence. The only sounds occasionally resonating throughout the room were Court’s stressed sighs, Colt’s bouncing knee, or turned pages from Henry’s book. Ryland decided twenty minutes prior that he was going to the library to look for answers. The rest were sure there was no book titled “Getting Struck By Lightning, Coming Back to Life, and Developing Magical Powers For Dummies”. But they’d been proven wrong before.
Court stared at Henry from across the room, watching his calm face scan the worn pages in front of him. Court didn’t need to see the title to know what text it was: The Tempest. Henry read the play often, his copy so well used that pages had come off their paperback binding, needing to be pinched together by his long, slender fingers as he read. It was small enough to keep on his person at all times, the reason for it being in complete disarray. It was the same copy he used to practice his part of Prospero nearly four years prior. Memories of when they first met came back with each flip of the page. When Court spotted him hunched over it in the corner of their Literature gen ed. His hair was shorter then, before Henry admitted he’d always wanted to grow it out but his previous girlfriends never liked it that way, before Court convinced him it would look good long. When Henry had walked into the class with a smile for the first time, his eyes searching for Court’s. He muttered how he’d gotten the part, shy when admitting that it was ‘only the Understudy’ but his face remained lit up for the rest of the class. Court would never tell him that he had slit every tire on the real Prospero’s car before their last performance, ensuring he was late enough for Henry to take his place just the once. He didn’t need to. Henry already knew.
He remembered their first kiss, sudden and perfect. Court was taking a walk between classes when he heard the familiar cadence of his classmate’s voice. Henry was sitting on a stone wall by the steps up to the library, practicing his lines out loud. Every word was melodical, his voice entrancing. Court stopped in his tracks and just listened for what felt like hours; maybe it was. Henry was too focused to notice his admirer. Court had never thought about kissing someone before, man or woman, but as Henry’s voice carried across the courtyard, he’d never been more sure that he wanted to kiss him. Enchanted by his words, Court marched right up the stone wall, slotted his body between Henry’s dangling legs, and kissed him mid-verse. Henry’s eyes closed the second he realized whose lips were on his. His hands pulled Court in closer, letting the play fall to the stone floor between their feet – likely one of the reasons his copy was falling apart.
Court froze, completely inexperienced, but Henry’s fervor gave him the confidence to keep going. Henry broke the kiss several times, never going farther than an inch before pulling Court’s lips back to his, leaving several open-mouthed, long kisses across his lips. Court let him pull his face down with his hands, his legs and feet now wrapped around Court’s waist so he could keep his body there against him. Henry noticed Court still, slowing down to allow Court’s mind to catch back up, assuming correctly that this was not a behavior that Court practiced often. He let his tongue press against the corner of Court’s lips, deciding that if Court was going to start something then he’d better be prepared to finish it. Court let Henry in, not realizing nor caring that the moan he let out at the feeling of Henry’s skilled tongue in his mouth was audible, his whole body alit with a fire he didn’t know he was capable of feeling.
The rest of the world fell away around them as Henry peeled off layer after layer of Court’s insecurities. He was worried he wouldn’t be capable of any of it. That his shell that kept all the pain out would prevent him from being able to feel forms of intimacy that he didn’t know he even wanted. The longer Henry kissed him the more he came to realize that maybe he needed it. He let himself relax into Henry’s warmth, learning quickly how to give just as much in return. Maybe loving someone wasn’t as difficult and complicated as he had made it out to be. It didn’t seem that hard at all. In fact, loving Henry was the easiest thing Court had ever done.
As if Henry could sense his thoughts, the man looked up at him over the top of his book. He winked. Court’s eyebrow raised as Henry stood from the chair, tucking the pages into his oversized jean back pocket as he had done thousands of times before.
He grabbed Court’s sweatshirt hanging on the edge of Ryland’s bed, pulling it on over his head.
“Where are you going?” Colt asked, concern evident in his voice.
“The park,” Henry said as if it was obvious.
“Why?”
Henry shrugged, “Looking for something.”
“Fine, let’s go,” Colt stood up to go but Henry put his hand up to stop him.
“And when Ryland gets back here and finds we’ve all left?”
They shared a look.
“Good point. I’ll stay I guess. But isn’t splitting up a bad idea?”
Court shook his head, chiming in finally, “Actually we probably shouldn’t be seen together so much. Splitting up is a good idea until things die down.”
“Okay, Fred,” Colt said sarcastically, “What are we, splitting up to search for clues?”
Court and Henry looked at each other, Henry trying to figure out if that made him Daphne, “That’s…actually exactly what we’re doing, yes.”
Colt sighed, “Fine, just…stop talking as if we’ve done something illegal, it’s freaking me out.”
Court walked up to Colt, placing a hand on his shoulder, “I’m not implying we did something wrong, I’m just trying to be realistic in a completely unrealistic scenario. If we’re not all dead, if this isn’t some fever dream, then magic or superpowers or whatever is going on with us is real. And unless we’re really really lucky, we’re not the first people to get these powers.”
“So?”
“So, the hospital never called me.”
“Okay…you’ve lost me,” Colt feared he’d blinked and missed half the conversation.
“A body wakes up in a morgue and walks out,” Court gestured at Henry, “Even if he was invisible, his body is missing. But no call.”
“Yeah…yeah okay,” Colt looked terrified.
“Now, if I don’t know anything then I’d assume the autopsy is taking longer than usual and would wait at least a day, I don’t know, so that’s what I’ll do. Fake it. I don’t have any powers, I can make myself known. But Henry…”
“Is a walking dead man,” Colt said.
Henry made a face as if he was impressed by the nickname.
“If I didn’t turn invisible, it could have just been a medical error. A freak incident. But I turned invisible, and it was on film…”
Colt began to pace, “So what are we going to do?”
“You’re not going to do anything,” Court stated, “You’re not involved; I’ll take Henry out of the–”
“I’m not involved?!” Colt’s jaw dropped, “Did you miss the part where I have magical healing powers after getting struck by lightning?!”
“None of that is on camera.”
Colt’s mind raced with different scenarios, “What if people come by asking questions. What am I supposed to say?”
“Who are you expecting to come by?” Henry asked.
“I don’t know!” Colt threw his hands in the air, “I hadn’t really considered it until Court put the idea in my head.”
“Just tell them the truth.”
“What?!”
Court’s face twisted instantly in regret, “Not–” he pinched his nose in frustration, “Not the whole truth! Just…you know, how we all saw a flash of lightning, Henry was hurt, we called 9-1-1, and then you’ve been here waiting for a phone call ever since. That’s all true.”
“And if they say ‘well actually we’re the magic police and we have evidence he’s broken the #1 magical rule and we are here to kill everyone involved’?”
“Then that would be really unfortunate.”
Colt didn’t look impressed with that answer.
“Damn, I really hope I don’t get caught by the magic police…” Henry muttered.
Court turned to Henry, “You, start taking this more seriously,” he then turned to Colt, “You, please don’t call it that.”
Colt flapped his arms, unsure what else to do.
“Look, the most likely scenario is that there’s a very confused mortician who thinks someone came in and stole the body and they’re trying to figure out what to do about that. I wouldn’t want to be the guy who has to tell a family that their loved one’s body got stolen, would you? Hell, the security cameras at the hospital probably don’t even work, just like the ones on campus,” said Court
“Or, they’re tracking us down right now and are going to use alien technology to erase our memories just like– wait a minute, the security cameras on campus don’t work?”
Henry and Court sighed simultaneously.
“Just…stay here, wait for Ryland. We’ll go see if there’s anything we missed about the park. Then I want to go back to our place and collect some of my things.”
Colt nodded before his words fully sank in.
“Wait, what things? Are you leaving?”
Court glanced at Henry who avoided eye contact in return.
“Probably. It might only be a few days or weeks, however long it takes for us to figure out what’s going on and get ahead of it.”
“But…Ryland’s not back–”
“We’ll come back to say goodbye after getting our stuff. I promise.”
Colt didn’t like the sound of that, but there was little else he could say.
“What about your degree? You’re almost done.”
“There’s only a month left, I could probably still pass if I don’t do anything for the rest of the semester. Or I could make it up online? I don’t know, it’s not really important right now. Plus, we’re getting ahead of ourselves, maybe this will blow over in a couple of days anyways, it’s just a precaution.”
Colt looked like he hadn’t been listening to half of what Court had just said. He went silent for a few seconds before muttering, “It is important.”
Court looked disappointed in himself, swallowing his shame before pulling Colt in for a half-hug, “Come here,” he said, rubbing Colt’s stiff back, “I’m sorry I scared you. You know me, always…over-protective and paranoid. Everyone’s fine. You’ll see. We’ll be back soon.”
Colt wasn’t convinced by any of it, but he gave them a grin anyways.
“Okay. Just promise you’ll be safe.”
Court nodded; he didn’t like making promises he couldn’t keep.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Ryland wouldn’t normally describe a trip to the library as ‘perilous’, but times had changed. He was no longer a molecular biology major trying to graduate with honors and an offer to grad school. Well, okay, he was exactly that still, but he wasn’t only a molecular biology major trying to graduate with honors and an offer to grad school, he was a man with a secret, and potentially great powers. And what did they say about great powers and responsibility? Forget it, he just needed to figure out if and how he, his brothers, and his friend had magical powers without killing anyone (again) or becoming test subjects in a lab. And he really didn’t want to become a test subject in a lab.
Usually, he’d be jealous that his twin brother and his friend left the same situation he did with magical powers that he didn’t have, but the thought of him not knowing what his body was capable of and, worse yet, not being able to control it, terrified him. He shuddered at the thought of turning invisible without knowing it. Ryland hated lacking control. What if he had super strength and accidentally set a book down on the check-out desk so hard that the table collapsed and everyone stared at him? What if he could fly and took off without practice and dropped hundreds of feet out of the sky and became human soup on the sidewalk?
Every step he took was cautious. He glanced at everyone and everything, paranoid that people somehow knew. He gathered several books on various subjects, mostly on mythology and magic and lightning but a few red herrings were thrown in in case he was already being tracked – it wasn’t the smartest system but it was all he could manage given the circumstances. He passed by the park where it happened. Dogs on leashes turned towards him to bark, their owners annoyed.
He walked faster.
He glanced from person to car to sidewalk, eyes consistently scanning his surroundings. He was usually an anxious person, but this felt different, something was wrong. Why did he feel like he was being tracked?
He barely ducked his head in time before feeling the brush of a hawk’s talons through his messy hair, the bird swooping in from behind and continuing to climb upwards in front of him, landing in a tree. He stood, breathless, staring up at it. It stared back. When he stopped in his tracks, it puffed up his wings, letting out a sharp cry. He looked around him, making sure the other people passing by could also see what he was seeing. They noticed the bird, but didn’t pay it too much attention, carrying on with their regular, non-magical days. His eyes landed on a black SUV, strange for this part of campus. Students didn’t own sleek SUVs, they owned beat-up sedans with slits in the tires. A man in sunglasses and a stern-looking woman stepped out of it, feet pointed in his direction.
Ryland wasn’t sure why, but he turned sharply on his heels and fled down the sidewalk, running as fast as his legs could carry him. He’d never run from any sort of authority in his life. He gave up on trying to run away from his larger and faster brothers years ago, there just wasn’t a point to it. Besides, he had always been better at talking himself out of trouble. All of that was meaningless now as fear propelled his feet faster than he’d ever traveled before. People moved out of his way before he had to dodge, creating a path of escape as he fled.
He cut across the grass, debating if he should ditch his backpack, when he felt two hands on his back pushing him forwards. Off balance, he fell to the earth, landing with a pained grunt. He pushed himself up, trying to crawl away, when a second person held him down by the shoulders, taking his hands and pulling them into handcuffs behind his back. He tried to squirm out of their grasp, yelling for anyone around him to help, but nobody listened. Stratt stood, catching her breath, flashing her badge to anyone who dared send them concerned glances, allowing Carl to finish restraining their suspect.
“Help me, please!” Ryland screamed, beginning to hyperventilate, “I haven’t done anything wrong! Please, let me go!” his eyes watered as he begged.
He let out a scream that ended in a choked sob.
“We just have some questions for you, Mr. Grace. Believe it or not, we are trying to help you.”
“It sure doesn’t seem like it!” he yelled, his voice strained from being out of breath.
“You ran.”
“I’m sorry! I’m sorry. I don’t know why I did that. I didn’t do anything wrong! Please,” he rested his head against the grass, finally exhausted.
“We can do this differently?”
“Yes! Yes, please, just…don’t hurt me.”
“We’re not trying to hurt you, Mr. Grace,” her voice was strangely relaxing.
The man helped him up, but didn’t remove his handcuffs.
“Let’s um…let’s start over, hm?”
The woman nodded. He got a good look at her now. She was middle aged, maybe in her early forties or so, her hair was long and strawberry blonde, red when the light hit it just right, and sparkled with occasional greys. Her mouth was stern but her eyes were kind.
“I’m Grace. But you uh…already knew that, huh?”
The woman nodded, clearly in charge, “Eva Stratt,” she flashed her badge but Ryland’s glasses were skewed and he couldn’t read it.
He turned his body towards the man, “And you are?”
“That’s classified,” the man stated.
“Oh,” Ryland was confused and overwhelmed.
“I’m just kiddin’, my name’s Carl,” he gave Ryland a grin.
“Oh,” his knees were getting weak, “Hey can I get some water, I’m not feeling too–”
“This way, Mr. Grace,” she turned on her heels.
Carl grabbed him firmly by the arm and led him behind her.