Pride—a reasonable or justifiable self-respect
Merriam Webster’s Dictionary

“You’re not really as mean as you want people to believe,” Krystal says on Saturday afternoon as we sit in the grassy spot beneath a huge tree.

We went to see a movie, some chick flick, that had Krystal just about crying at the happy ending. Me, I took advantage of the fact that she was in such a romantic mood and finally put my arm around her in a public place. She laid her head on my shoulder and I warmed all over. Don’t ask me what happened in the movie or where the five-dollar popcorn I bought went. All I know is having Krystal cuddled against me was the best thing that’s ever happened to me.

After the movie we decided to skip the crowds at the mall and came here to Lincoln Park instead. It’s nice here, in the center of the town where I grew up. I never really take the time to walk through this park, drinking in the scenery and all that. I just know it’s here and that everything else was built around it. But today Krystal and I walk past statues of generals and fallen-soldier memorials that represent native Lin colners who’d fought for our country. We stand for long, quiet minutes staring at the statue of what looks like a big balloon and arrow-pointed rings wrapped around it. The plaque reads “The End,” and I think for a minute of what Charon said to me. But beside me, Krystal’s smile and gentle urging that we find a quiet place to sit erase the thought.

“I don’t try to act mean,” I say in response to her statement. Grabbing a handful of grass, I open my fingers and watch as the strands fall back to the ground. This occupies my hands because I don’t want Krystal to think I’m a horny goof always wanting to grope her. I can’t help it though, she always looks so good, so soft. She’s got the perfect body, the perfect face. I’m so whipped when it comes to her.

“Well, you try to act like you don’t care. But I think you really do.”

We sit with our backs to the huge tree, our legs stretched out. One side of my body is completely touching one side of hers.

I shrug. “I care about stuff. And then there’s stuff I don’t care about.”

“I know you care about your family and your grades at school.”

She’s right on both counts. Getting suspended might really mess with my GPA. Especially since teachers aren’t allowed to give you makeup work for missing school due to suspension. That means lots of extra-credit assignments might be required this semester. And my family, of course I care about them. All of them, even the ones no longer here.

“We’re pretty close,” I say. “My family, I mean. Me, Dad and Pop Pop, we’re all each other’s got.”

“Yeah, I figured that. What happened to your mom?” she asks.

I think for a minute. What should I tell her? I could make something up, but why? The fact is she’s gone.

“She left when I was six. I don’t really know why. Dad doesn’t talk about it much.” And neither do I, until now. It doesn’t feel that bad, really. Talking about my mom being gone. For a long time I’ve been afraid to speak the words out loud. Not sure why, maybe because Dad never wants to talk about her. Pop Pop just gets this look on his face whenever she’s mentioned, but he never goes into any detail. Today, I get to talk about her and not feel bad. Or at least not feel so bad.

“I still miss her,” I add.

“My dad left, too,” she offers. “I mean, he’s still around, in California to be exact. With his girlfriend/baby mama, my old nanny.”

“Jeez, that’s so messed up.”

“Tell me about it. They want me to come out for Christmas, but I’ve already turned them down. No way do I want to be a part of that new family.”

“But you still love him, right?”

She sighs. “Yeah, I do. He’s just changed so much and done some pretty stupid things. I guess I can just love him from a distance.”

“At least you know where he is,” I say, wondering again where Mom went when she left us.

“He knows where I am, too, but that doesn’t make him want to see me any more frequently.”

“You’re still lucky. If you want to call him just to say hi, you can. If you do decide you want to see him, not necessarily his baby mama and child, you can.”

She chuckles. “Yeah, I can. You miss your mom a lot, huh?”

“I guess I miss what could have been. You know, she could have been one of those stay-at-home moms who make sure there’s a snack waiting for you when you get home from school. Who ruffles your hair while you’re doing homework at the kitchen table. Or she could have been the working mother who still kept the household running smoothly and didn’t take any mess when it came to grades.” I sigh because my chest is feeling really tight now. “I just miss what I didn’t have.”

Krystal reaches over and takes my hand then. “But what you’ve had is good, too. Your grandfather loves you so much. And your dad does, too, that’s why he works so hard.”

“He looks at me like I’m the plague sometimes. Like he’s so afraid of the power I’ve got in me that he doesn’t know what to do. I’m surprised he didn’t leave, too.” Again I’m admitting things to her I’ve never said to anyone before. But with Krystal I feel like I can.

“Maybe he’s afraid. My mom would totally freak if she knew about my abilities.”

“You don’t think she knows?” I ask. “I mean, if Casietta was Sasha’s Guardian and Pop Pop’s mine, who’s yours?”

She hunches her shoulders. The wind blows and strands of her hair fly into her face. With her free hand she tucks them behind her ear. “Guess I don’t have one.”

“That doesn’t seem right. I mean this Guardian thing, how can they protect us if we’re the ones who have the power?”

“I’ve thought about that, too. I’ve also been thinking a lot about Sasha’s dad and Franklin’s dad. Where are they and what are they doing? You think they’re together coming up with a way to come back and get us?”

“I don’t know. It’s kind of weird that both of them just up and left. And where’s Casietta? Does Sasha talk about this with you at all?”

She shakes her head. “She hasn’t heard from Casietta and she’s worried about her. Her mother doesn’t talk about any of it. Sasha says she’s like on another planet altogether, still going to her meetings and living life like there’s nothing to worry about.”

“Strange, huh?”

“Ya think?” she says, then laughs. “I don’t know how Sasha makes it living there.”

“She’s got Twan now, I think that helps her a lot.”

“I guess so. I think he’s good for her. Gives her a good balance, you know.”

“I guess.”

“I’m good for you,” she says, nudging me in the ribs with her elbow. “Wanna know how?”

“How?” I ask, lifting a hand to tuck her wayward hair behind her ear again.

“Because I can get you to relax, to not worry about all the things you don’t have and to focus on the things you do.”

She’s absolutely right about that. Right now I’m concentrating on the pretty girl sitting next to me—the one with the infectious laugh and gorgeous smile, the sexy eyes and sweet-smelling hair. I’m not even thinking about the darker things in my life, because she’s right here, with me.

I lean in and kiss her.

“You’re so right,” I whisper against her lips. “You’re really good for me.”

She smiles, bringing her arms up to wrap around my neck. “We’re good for each other,” she says.

Then words aren’t necessary. The noises around us, onlookers, bystanders, other beings, none of that matters. Our lips are touching, our kiss going from sweet exploration to deep longing in a matter of seconds. Right here, right now, that’s all that matters, that’s all I can feel.

 

The first school day of October I enter the building with Krystal by my side. This is now our morning ritual—sit together on the bus, holding hands; walk into the building, holding hands; go to our lockers. I walk Krystal to her first class, then go to mine. We aren’t near each other again until lunch, but now she sits on my side of the table, leaving Lindsey and Sasha on their side. Twan comes over joining us most days. I’m starting to feel like me and Twan can be friends, outside the circle of the girls, I mean.

I know he has his crew but they seem okay, too, and none of them give me grief like Mateo and Pace and the other jocks. The last few weeks have been quiet, thankfully. I haven’t heard the voice since the night in the black hole, or in the halls of the Underworld as he’d told me. I still can’t believe that I, Jake Elias Kramer, walked in the infamous Underworld and I’m still alive to tell about it. Although that’s the last thing I plan to do.

The girls would totally freak if I told them, and Twan, while I think he’s cool, he’s not a Mystyx. I could kiss goodbye any ground I’d gained with him and his crew the minute I start talking about demons and betrayed goddesses. Still, I can’t help but think about it, the choice I mean. The choice that he says I have to make. Light or dark.

I have them both inside me, and I need to decide what to do about it.

“We should go.” Krystal nudges me, bringing my mind back to the current conversation. But I have no clue what the current conversation is.

“Go where?” I ask, then down the rest of my warm chocolate milk. Hopefully she’ll just think I’m so into my lunch of flat chicken tenders and greasy fries instead of obsessed with the demon living inside me.

“The Harvest Hangout,” she says, giving me that look that says she might be getting irritated.

I know things like that about her now, like when she’s tired she rubs her eyes like a baby. And when she’s happy there’s this little light that dances in her eyes. I even know when she’s seeing a spirit or listening to one now. Her eyes get a little cloudy, her body still as if she’s opening up all channels to the dead. It’s a little weird when you think about it, though.

“You serious?” Twan says.

He did the smart thing today, bought snacks instead of braving these cardboard things they call chicken. He’s finishing his bag of plain chips and reaching for the bottled water Sasha convinced him to get instead of the Pepsi he really wanted.

“You really want to go to something Alyssa and her band of idiots are planning?” he asks Sasha.

She’s putting on lip gloss. I’ve seen her do that a lot lately. I mean, I’ve always noticed that Sasha’s a pretty girl and she wears a little makeup here and there. Guess I just never thought of how that makeup got there. Anyway, she looks just as bothered by Twan’s questions as Krystal is by mine.

“It’s ridiculous for us to act as snotty as she does,” Lindsey adds.

Lindsey never acts like being the fifth wheel bothers her. She doesn’t have a boyfriend, so when we’re paired up I always feel a little sorry for her. Not too long ago I felt sorry for myself for that same reason, so I can relate to how being on the outside looking in might feel. But she doesn’t seem to mind. She’s still wearing those dark clothes and avoiding eye contact as much as possible, but it looks like her gloomy mood might be getting better.

“That’s right. Just because she thinks she can treat us like outcasts in our own town doesn’t mean she can. We don’t have to feed into her negativity,” Sasha says, putting the tube of gloss back into her purse, which looks big enough to hold the contents of her entire dresser.

“Really, I mean, Alyssa absolutely hates my guts. What better way to get back at her then to go to her little get-together? Besides, the school’s really the one sponsoring it. Alyssa and Jamie are just spearheading the promotion. Everybody’s invited.”

“Invited to what? A hayride?” I ask and Twan laughs.

“Yeah, we are not cowboys,” he adds and lifts his fisted hand. I chuckle, tapping his knuckles with my own.

The girls are not amused.

“It’s a hayride and corn maze. They’re having grills out and selling candy apples and hot cider. It’ll be fun,” Krystal says.

Twan is shaking his head. “I don’t celebrate Halloween,” he says.

Sasha asks, “Why?”

“It’s a devil worshipper’s day. I don’t believe in celebrating an evil day,” he says quickly.

All of us freeze. I mean, literally, each of us just stops and stares at him. Twan doesn’t know about us, at least Sasha assures us that he doesn’t. But just the mention of the devil or an evil day coming from him puts us on alert.

“It’s what you make it,” Sasha says. “If you worship the devil then that’s what you’ll think of the holiday. But since I don’t, I enjoy all of the harvest activities.”

“Sasha’s right,” Krystal chimes in. “Besides, what else is there to do in this town? This is the first event I’ve wanted to attend since I’ve been here.”

She had a point there. Lincoln isn’t known for doing much by way of entertainment. It’s one of those small contemporary towns that move at the pace of a southern community instead. Generally on Halloween, the day of this year’s Harvest Hangout, kids just put on whatever old masks they had from last year and went from house to house doing silly things like throwing toilet paper or bags of eggs. The younger ones did the trick-or-treat thing filling bags of candy from generous neighbors, and everybody else kind of just went on about their business. I guess adding an event to the day sort of makes it a little more festive.

“Let’s just go. We’re never going to win this battle,” I whisper to Twan.

From a distance that she shouldn’t have been able to hear what I said Lindsey nods. “He’s right. You’re never going to win.”

Twan stares at her like he’s trying to figure her out. I know it’s because she’s telepathic. Twan probably just thinks she’s crazy or nosy. Either way the conversation shifts to what the girls are wearing to the event now. Twan and me, we just go back to eating and nodding affirmatively whenever the girls ask us something.

Just as we’re leaving the cafeteria for afternoon classes Sasha passes Krystal a note. Krystal reads it and passes it to me. I open it as I’m going down the hall to my government class.

Got some new info, meeting at my house after school.

It was in Sasha’s girly handwriting with swirls at the end of every letter and little hearts to dot her i’s. Man, I’m glad I’m not her teacher and have to read her handwriting on a daily basis.

But throughout the rest of the afternoon I’m curious. Having been getting some answers on my own, I wonder what the girls have come up with. Truth be told, I didn’t think they’d been doing any investigating. I mean, Sasha hadn’t said anything about astral projecting to the Majestic again, if that’s what she’d done to get answers. And we hadn’t had any other meetings at the library. So I wonder where this information came from.

And how it would correlate with what I’d learned but kept secret for the past few weeks.

 

“The Majestic 12 was a code name for a secret group of scientists, military leaders and government officials formed in 1947. Rumor was the President put them in place to investigate UFO activity after a couple of suspicious events during that time,” Sasha says, sitting back against the ugliest orange couch I’ve ever seen.

We’re at her house again. We meet there a lot now since her father’s out of town. He’s been gone since around the same time that Walter Bryant and his son Franklin disappeared. It’s no coincidence, there’s no such thing as coincidences now. Everything happens for a reason, past and present. It’s just a matter of figuring out all the reasons.

So anyway, we gathered here after school because Sasha and Lindsey said they’d come up with some interesting stuff. We didn’t have the flash drive from Walter Bryant’s office, but we had the papers from his file that was marked Project S. Sasha had gone back and copied those, thinking they were connected. Now we would see how.

“The government’s always doing something undercover,” I say in a not-so-impressed tone. “That’s not news.”

Sasha nods, her curly dark hair pulled back by a headband today. “That’s true. But what if there was something they were trying to hide? What if they knew about Magicals back then and hid it from the rest of the world?”

“That wouldn’t be new either,” Krystal speaks up. She’s sitting in a chair that looks like Pop Pop’s old recliner when it was new. Nothing in Sasha’s house looks over a day old. Like her mother just sat around ordering new stuff all day long.

“Listen to what she’s saying, you guys,” Lindsey says, crossing her legs and tucking them beneath her as she sits on the plush dark green carpet. She’s wearing black again today. Come to think of it, she’d been wearing black just about every day since that time in the woods when Franklin tried to take Krystal’s eyes.

“So there was a committee formed to investigate UFO sightings,” Sasha continues. “The committee was called the Majestic 12. As you recall, Fatima says the Majestic is the land of the magical.”

“How would the President of the United States know there was a magical plane called the Majestic?” Lindsey asks, looking from me to Krystal.

“You think the President was a supernatural?” I ask incredulously.

Sasha shakes her head. “No. But I think they all knew of the magical place and of the supernatural existence here on Earth. I think this committee was selected to cover it up.”

Krystal leans forward, her elbows on her knees. “And how does this connect to us? How do we, with supernatural powers from a Greek goddess, connect to UFOs?”

“There were never any UFOs,” I say quietly. Suddenly things are clicking into place, like a long-lost memory I never even knew I had. Just like my visit to the Underworld. “Every sighting that was reported was real, but it wasn’t UFOs they saw. They were Magicals, things from the Majestic as they appeared on Earth. Just like the things Sasha can see.”

“Exactly!” Sasha says, pointing at me as if I’ve just answered the daily double on Jeopardy.

“And every time a mortal reported one of those sightings it was covered up and supposedly being investigated,” Krystal says.

Sasha continues the sentence for her. “By the Majestic 12.”

“Who were most likely Magicals themselves,” Lindsey completes.

“No way,” I say, but I know it’s true. I can feel it.

“Jonathan Bryant was a scientist who was also a member of the Majestic 12,” Sasha adds. She’s looking around at us like she wants us to put together the pieces that she already has. Krystal and I are following her, but I guess we still need time to actually digest what she’s saying.

“Jonathan Bryant was Walter Bryant’s father,” Lindsey says.

“Franklin’s grandfather,” Krystal whispers.

It feels like we should be sitting around a campfire telling ghost stories on a dark, stormy night. The conversation goes from conspiratorial whispers to surprised gasps to, now, silent contemplation. And don’t think it’s skipped my attention that Krystal just mentioned her ex-boyfriend, the one who even in death or disappearance is still my competition.

“And that’s how Walter Bryant found out about us,” I say finally, because it makes sense. “The weatherman’s son finds out about his father’s past work and looks into it himself. He draws a more scientific conclusion and decides to act on it, to profit from it.”

Lindsey nods. “So where’s Walter Bryant now? That’s what we need to figure out. Because whatever he knows, it’s only a matter of time before he sells it to someone else.”

“Have you heard from your father, Sasha?” I ask and receive scathing looks from both Krystal and Lindsey. Sasha just shrugs.

“My mother said Washington State. I don’t know what he’s doing there. But like you, I’m thinking it has something to do with us and Walter Bryant. My dad knows about us and our power. He knew that Casietta was my Guardian. I guess it’s safe to say that what he knows Walter Bryant might know, as well.”

“Do you really think he’d tell him about us? I mean, would he really exploit you, his daughter?”

Sasha looks like Lindsey’s question poses just a hint of pain for her. But she’s good at hiding her true feelings. I know, she’s been doing it since I met her. For instance, she’s always tried to act like the fact that her parents basically ignored her didn’t bother her. She, for the most part, looks like a normal teenager with a normal life, for a rich girl. But I figure it’s got to be tough for her, especially after learning all she did. I mean, how’s a girl supposed to react to her housekeeper being her sworn Guardian then disappearing; her father knowing all along that she was supernatural but choosing to hide from it instead of embracing it or helping his daughter get through it; and Mouse, we still don’t know his part in all this, and the big guy doesn’t seem in any hurry to tell us. If you ask me, she’s handling it all pretty well.

“I don’t really know what he’s capable of. I wouldn’t have thought a parent could hide something like this from their child, but he did. When he looked at me it was as if I was a total stranger, a freak he wished he’d never come across. So I don’t think for one minute that our blood ties will stop him from doing whatever he can that’s profitable.”

Now that’s a shame. But I guess that’s why Sasha and I remain good friends. She’s got her dysfunctional family and I have mine.

“Fatima said our power comes from what they call a subtle eclipse.” Krystal starts talking. “But Jake’s grandfather said it was the storm, that big blizzard that hit the month we were all conceived here in Lincoln.”

“But I wasn’t conceived in Lincoln,” Lindsey says. “My parents were never in this town before.”

“And you’re four months younger than us,” Sasha says.

“The energy to make mortals supernatural came from the eclipse,” I say as sort of just a gathering of all our facts. I don’t want to let on that I have other information. Then I’d have to share the source of that information, and that, I’m definitely not ready to do. But I can’t stop. It’s like the words are just popping out of my mouth. Like…like someone else is saying them through me.

“The storms, the catastrophic nature of them, the erratic occurrences plaguing scientists throughout the world, just as the UFO sightings did, come from something else.”

“What?” Sasha asks.

“We can only come from one thing, either the eclipse or the storms. Either way it’s the weather, and we know that Styx had control of the moon and the sun,” Krystal says.

“No.” I’m shaking my head for emphasis. “Think about it. The eclipse births the energy, it puts it into the atmosphere, but something else adds to it, pushes the energy to another level entirely.”

“And by doing so it creates what? The Darkness that keeps following us?” Lindsey asks.

“A countermeasure.”

“What in the world are you talking about, Jake?” Sasha asks.

“It’s simple.” And I really feel it is. This moment of realization is like a blindfold coming off my eyes. “To every light there is a dark. To every good an evil. To every power an even stronger power.”

“Styx created the eclipse to empower us, to give us tools to fight in her place. And then, another evokes power into the atmosphere to what…dissuade us away from Styx, make us evil?” This is Lindsey, and she’s staring directly at me.

Although she’s wearing her black, supposedly to keep her from being afflicted with the thoughts of everyone around her, I am not. I wear jeans, tattered at the ends and faded in the bottom and a dark green T-shirt. She’s looking at me or rather looking through me with that way she has. Inside I feel like smiling, glad she can see what the others cannot. On the outside I’m a little nervous.

“I think that’s it,” I say, standing up and moving toward the window, trying to get out of her line of sight. I don’t really know what she’s thinking or what she may have seen inside of me. And since I haven’t shared with any of them the voice taking up residence inside my head or the fact that I’m most likely in some way mixed with some dark energy, I don’t really want her seeing too much.

“All this work is making me hungry,” Sasha says. “And since Casietta is gone…” A gloomy air seems to hang on her words, but then true to form she smiles through it and stands. “Let’s go get pizza.”

“No!” I know I say it too fast and it sounds too urgent, too serious for the mere suggestion of going to get pizza, but I don’t want to go. The confrontation with Pace and Mateo the last time I was there is still fresh in my mind. I don’t want to risk seeing them and having another burst of power threaten to expose us and continue to confuse me. I really want to be alone, to think about all these new developments. “I mean, I’ll pass,” I finish in a much more normal tone.

But the girls are all looking at me; Sasha with her worried look and Lindsey with the questioning one. Krystal has a combination of them both, worried and questioning. Hers is the worst, makes me feel like an idiot ten times over.

“I’ll just head home,” I say and start to leave the room, hoping nobody’ll try to stop me.

Fat chance, Krystal is right behind me as I approach the front door.

“It’s all right, Jake. I mean, they probably won’t even be there.”

“They?”

She nods. “Pace and Mateo. Besides they’re jerks anyway. You shouldn’t let them get the best of you, just ignore them.”

“Like you tried to ignore Alyssa,” I say out of spite. A few months ago Alyssa Turner had her sights set on making Krystal’s life hell, and for the most part she succeeded, until Sasha and Krystal both put the braid-haired socialite in her place.

Her lips thin out a little like she’s trying to hold back a response. I’m making her angry. But I don’t care. At this moment I just don’t care. I want to be alone, away from them and their theories and their watchful eyes.

“You shouldn’t let them bully you,” she says, crossing her arms over her chest.

“I can handle my own problems.” And because I really believe that I turn my back on her and open the door.

“What you do affects us all, Jake. Remember that when you’re handling your own problems.”

When I turn back to her she looks different, or maybe I’m looking at her differently. But it’s not with the softness and embarrassment that I’m used to feeling toward her. Instead it’s with a kind of pity, an I-know-something-you-don’t sort of way. “What I do is for me. Now and always.”

Her mouth is open like she wants to say something but can’t when I walk away. I don’t care what she was going to say or wanted to say. I said what I did and I meant it. Walking down the quiet streets of Sea Point I feel stronger. With every step strength builds in my legs, my arms, the pit of my stomach. I hear a low laughter, more like a cackle, and I look up. He’s there, the raven. His eyes are on mine, as always, and I nod, accepting his presence, knowing its meaning.

I walk and he flies with me, just above my head on the right side. He’s there, like we’re together, a combination, and a deadly force to be reckoned with.