Page 36 of A Taste of Bliss

The song wraith’s form is starting to shimmer, as if he’s somehow stepped through the veil into another realm but still has one foot here. “I will let you know when I have what I need.” And then he’s gone.

“Come back, you sick fuck!” I yell, willing my voice to travel after him. When he doesn’t reappear, I grab a rock lying close by and throw it into the pond with all my might. The sounds of water crashing and sloshing sends me to my knees, air rushing out of me, and it takes a few moments for me to get my breathing back under control.

Haven’t I given him enough? He’s taken my entire life—my humanity—and is still requesting more? I let out another agonizing scream, my vocal cords constricting around all the pent up anger coiled in my body.

Her face bleeds into my vision as I close my eyes against the tears that leak lazily out of my eyes, at odds with the fervor of my wish that I could forget it all. That for once I could wake up in themorning not noticing the absence on the other side of the bed. That I could forget the hollow, harsh sound of her voice after a night of screaming words she supposedly didn’t mean. That I could forget we ever met, ever crossed paths.

I look down at my arms.

The evidence of everything she ever made me feel.

I pull my sleeves down over my hands, hiding even my fingers within them, and I walk home, going in through a side door so as not to stumble into anyone else’s sight. I want to sit in the dark. I want to feel pain.

My teeth slide out of my gums, elongating.

I consider what my teeth could do to my flesh. I consider how it would look if I ripped open my own arm and peered inside, seeing what the skin hides.

“Sces?” Evan calls from down the hall. His shadowy form emerges into more detail as he comes under the glow of sconces along the wall. “Is something wrong?”

My teeth are still out. I numbly shake my head, while trying to keep my mouth closed.

Evan’s in his pajamas, holding a plate of nachos. He offers one to me, but I shake my head again, focusing on the blue plaid print of his pants. He offers me his arm, but again I shake my head.

“If you’re hungry, you should eat.”

“I’m not hungry,” I manage to grunt out as finally my teeth slide back into my gums. “I’m angry. I want to rip into something so bad I—” I fall short. I take a few deep breaths.

“Eat some nachos,” Evan says, holding the plate towards me again. “Do it. Trust me.”

I glare at him but do as he says, biting into the chip loaded with melted cheese and a jalapeño. The slight spice bites into my taste buds and suddenly that’s what I’m focused on.

I grab another with more jalapeños on it and as I swallow the spice soothes me. I luxuriate in it.

Evan nods with satisfaction and holds the plate up above his head, even though I could still reach it. He leads me to our gamer den, like a human leading a dog using a smelly treat. But I follow, suddenly hungry in the normal way.

We sit our asses down in the bean bag chairs on the floor. Evan puts the plate between us and turns on our latest gaming obsession. Within minutes the plate is empty and my emotions are in check. My anger is quelled and my sadness forgotten, at least for the moment.

CHAPTER ELEVEN

PISCES

THREE YEARS AGO

Benny clapsme on the back as we come to a halt just inside the backstage area of the legendary Bell Theater in Seattle. It’s an older venue with an almost church-like feel. “Definitely bigger than last time, huh?” he asks as we look out at the stage.

The venue hasn’t opened up yet and we’re early. Our masks and outfits are packed away still and we have a couple hours to get ready and do our final sound check.

A year ago we were in Seattle as openers for another band. This time we have a couple of small shows lined up along the west coast before heading back home. I nod at the guitarist for our opener, a local band we found last minute to fill in for our scheduled opener, who all came down with food poisoning last night.

“Hey man, are you Wrath?” the guitarist asks, holding out his hand and using my stage name.

I nod, taking his hand and shaking it.

“I’m Taser. That’s Amelia, our lead singer, over there.” He points to a tall woman with lots of tattoos and long black hairthat shifts blue in the lights. She’s chatting with a tall, lean guy with drumsticks sticking out his back pocket—their drummer, presumably—and another woman with long brown braids, also wearing loads of black.

“Thanks for bringing us on tonight.” Taser shakes Benny’s hand next. But Benny’s eyes are on Amelia. He lets out a soft whistle.

“Of course,” I reply, looking around for the rest of my band so I can introduce them. I find Shaun on the steps leading up to the stage, chatting with some of the venue staff. I don’t see Evan.