Page 39

Austin

Jamie’s powers were indeed impressive. After he and Jesse got through with the police station (which, unfortunately, had left the two pretty much disappointed, as the police hadn’t had any records of any ‘Jamie Auralie’ in their files, missing or otherwise) they had come by as planned.

And Jamie had shown off his powers, creating beautiful and intricate works of art out of water and then freezing them into ice, identical to the picture Jesse had sent the day before.

For all Austin’s teasing and sarcasm over text, he had to admit that actually seeing it was something else.

There was no denying the facts; from the very moment Jamie’s hair and eyes had changed color for the first time, it had been blatantly obvious that Jamie had some kind of fantastical abilities, and every new strange thing that came afterward only proved it all the more.

Still, even with so much overwhelming evidence, it just felt… for lack of a better word, ‘unbelievable.’

How could someone like Jamie ever exist in real life?!

After the demonstration, the two hung out with Austin for a few hours before Jesse had to leave for his night shift (even after months, they still stuck to the routine of Jamie staying at Austin’s place for the night whenever Jesse wasn’t there to help him with his nightmares), and Austin got the chance to really talk with Jamie; to check in with him and see how he was handling all the recent twists and turns his life had taken.

“So,” Austin said, as he and Jamie headed into the kitchen to cook up some dinner. “No records of any missing persons with your name, huh?”

“No,” Jamie told him with a long sigh. “But… after all, only normal people are in those files, aren’t they?” He frowned in frustration. “Don’t know why we even tried. ”

“Well, you had to try. And hey, now that you remember your name, I’m sure more of your memories will come back pretty soon, too. It’s just a matter of time.”

A pout formed on Jamie’s lips.

Maybe it was better to drop the topic. Trying to distract him, Austin opened the fridge—only to realize there wasn’t that much he could cook up for dinner. “Um… how about pizza tonight?”

“Actually…” Jamie hesitated. “Could I try to make something? I’m trying to get better at cooking.”

Now, that sounded exactly like the kind of distraction he needed.

“Sure thing,” Austin replied easily.

Jamie frowned, still looking pouty. “You know, I don’t think Jesse likes the food I make at home. He always eats it, and he says it’s fine, but he makes faces while he eats, as if he’s just forcing it down to make me feel better. So I want to keep practicing until I get better at it.”

Yeah, he really should. Poor Jesse had secretly been whining a lot.

“Jamie Auralie,” Austin chuckled, glad to finally have a full name to use for maximum teasing potential. “So you have found something you’re not naturally gifted in?”

Jamie rolled his eyes with a slight blush. “There are lots of things like that, Austin.”

“Hmm, let me think, no there’s not!” Austin laughed, starting to count off Jamie’s gifts on his fingers. “You’re a world-class dancer, you swim like a fish, you can control water and make sculptures out of ice—oh, and Jesse told me you started painting now too?”

“Oh um, yeah,” Jamie said, his blush having deepened at Austin’s words, but now blinking back to normal at the mention of painting.

“It’s… it’s not for fun like dancing is, though.

” He reached into the fridge and started collecting a few various ingredients—a tomato, half an onion in a ziplock bag, some summer sausage, and a potato, for starters.

“Dr. Alevera suggested it. She said it’ll help me process my feelings.

The theory is, if I express myself through painting, it might be easier for me to cope with whatever is fueling my ni ghtmares, so then my subconscious won’t need to pour all that symbolism into my nightmares in the first place.

I don’t really understand it, but I’m giving it a try. ”

“Makes sense. Do you have any pictures of something you’ve painted?”

“Erm, yeah…” Jamie set everything down on the counter and pulled his phone out with a troubled frown. He brought up a picture and then handed the phone to Austin, before turning back to the counter and grabbing a knife, to start chopping. “I don’t think it’s very good, though.”

If he meant ‘technically,’ he was wrong. Even through the small, grainy phone screen, it was clear that the painting was of the highest quality. The bold, swooping brush strokes and the high contrast of the colors were—like nearly everything else Jamie set his mind to—masterful.

But when it came to what exactly it was that Jamie had painted… Austin agreed that it didn’t exactly seem pleasant. Maybe it had been the wrong topic to try and cheer Jamie up.

The painting was primarily fire. As Austin zoomed in closer and slowly dragged his finger over the glass screen to get a better look at all the details, it was impossible to pretend it was anything else.

Bright orange and red flames seemed to dance across the canvas, intercut with yellow and white where the fire was hottest. Black smoke billowed and curled from the flames.

And in the very center of the painting… a dark shape seemed to be emerging; distinctly human in form, but otherwise indistinguishable.

It had no features and was so obscured by the inferno that it was impossible to make out if it was tall or short, slim or stout, muscular or lean, or what kind of clothes it might be wearing.

It was only a menacing dark figure, approaching from the fire—and one arm seemed to be raised as if reaching for Austin through the screen.

“I… I think you did a good job,” he made himself say, as he closed the picture and turned off the phone. He handed it back to Jamie, who pocketed it before continuing to chop. “Is, um… Is that what you see in your nightmares?”

Jamie pursed his lips once more without looking up from his work. For a moment, he didn’t answer, the soft clack of the knife against the cutting board the only sound in the kitchen. But finally, he nodded. “Yes…”

“That must be awful,” Austin sympathized, hesitating as he tried to shake the uneasy feeling in his stomach.

Then he cleared his throat. “I… used to get nightmares, too,” he admitted.

“After the accident, when I was first starting to recover, I used to dream about it a lot. Sometimes, it was just… the memory of it. Of what had happened. And other times, it was… different. Worse.”

Jamie paused in his chopping, and then finally lifted his gaze to Austin, an expression of connection in his eyes, as if he’d just realized he found someone who might understand, even if they didn’t get everything. “Worse how?” he asked quietly.

“Well…” Austin sighed, absently leaning against the counter and reaching down to rub at his sore thigh.

“Worse, like, sometimes in the dream, I couldn’t…

I couldn’t get out of the car. Or, sometimes, it would be before the accident happened, only I would know it was coming and try to stop it, but Na— but the driver wouldn’t listen, and crashed on purpose.

Or sometimes everything would be just the same, except Jesse got hurt instead of me. ”

The dreams where Jesse took Austin’s place, the dreams where Austin had made it out okay but had watched as Jesse suffered instead of him, those had always been the worst nightmares of all.

It was hard to talk about even now, almost three years later. And he hadn’t really talked about it to anybody before—except for his own therapist, of course. But if it helped Jamie, even a little, Austin didn’t mind opening up. It was just… difficult.

Jamie was quiet for a little while. He gave Austin a look of sympathy and understanding, and then went back to his work, finishing up with the meat and vegetables and then transferring them to a baking dish.

Finally, he spoke. “I’m sorry that happened to you, too.

Maybe… Maybe Dr. Alevera is right, then.

Maybe my dreams are… diff erent, too, the way some of yours were different. ”

Austin really hoped so. Of course it was impossible to deny that Jamie had been in a fire, and that there had been blood.

The soot on his clothes and the blood on his hands the day Jesse had found him didn’t leave much room for doubt.

But Austin knew—perhaps more than most people—that trauma did funny things to a person’s mind, especially when it came to dreams. Proof that Jamie had been in a fire wasn’t the same thing as proof that his dreams were telling him the truth.

Just like having blood on your hands wasn’t proof you’d killed someone, no matter how much Jamie seemed to think it was.

But Jamie was here to relax. It wouldn’t be fair for Austin to push him to talk about this sort of thing. He already dealt with it enough in therapy, and every night while he slept. And now, he also dealt with it when he was painting. He deserved a break.

“Well,” Austin sighed. “No matter what it is that happened to you or what your dreams might mean… We’ll find out, okay? You’re here with us, with Jesse—and Dr. Alevera’s helping you, too. We’ll all help you get past this. Together.”

Jamie let out a deep breath, his shoulders relaxing as he offered Austin a slight, somber smile. “Yeah,” he said. “Together.”

He really was such a good guy.

It made sense why Jesse couldn’t accept that he might be dangerous.

Not for the beautiful soul that Jamie was, but for the things he didn’t remember about himself.

Jesse just didn’t seem to understand that ‘dangerous’ didn’t mean ‘bad,’ or ‘evil,’ or ‘threatening.’ Sometimes things were dangerous through no fault of their own; like a playful cat that didn’t know it had claws.