Zack and the Dark Shaft (8 page)

Was she asking for so much? All she wanted was to spend some time with Quincy, to love him the way she hadn’t been able to love him, and be loved by him, in life.

She’d been more than patient, restraining herself from going to Quincy while Zack slept (and lately these intervals had been few and far between for her poor, paranoid twin) and getting what she needed. Getting what she had been sent back for.

You have two weeks to fulfill your desire
…

Why did it have to be only two weeks? Who said she couldn’t extend it?

She was already manifesting strengths and abilities that surely they had given her.

Why imbue her with such gifts if not for her to use them to her advantage?

She sensed her brother’s weaknesses, the little gaps in Zack’s

consciousness and will, his control over the body they now shared not absolute.

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Zara no longer thought of her dwelling as just Zack’s body. They were one, sharing thoughts and feelings as strongly as they had in life without being one.

What would be the harm if she…took over?

What would happen to Zack? Would he be relegated to spectator status like she had? Or, would he just…cease to exist?

No! She wouldn’t think like that. Zack was a survivor like her. Whatever she decided to do, however she decided to handle his body, she knew he would be okay.

She wouldn’t hurt him. She loved him. He was her other half.

Now they would just be one...with Zara in charge.

She had to make this move before she ran completely out of time.

* * * *

“I knew sending her back was a mistake, but would anyone listen to me?

Nooooo.”

“Micah—”

“Do not Micah me, Jamaereh! You know I am right. Against all the odds, it is happening again. His and our best intentions are being turned back around on us.”

Jamaereh shook his head. He could not understand what happened. He fully expected Zara to go back to earth, fulfill her desires, make peace with her brother and Quincy and be done with it. But the child was planning a corporeal coup d'état.

It was sacrilege and Jamaereh had expected so much more from Zara Benjamin, so much better. Unfortunately, she appeared to be vain and self-centered like many of their other ‘pet projects’ who did not know how to accept a good thing when it was offered and not ruin it with cupidity and good intentions.

“I am going to stop her.”

“We cannot, Micah. You know that. It is forbidden. Besides, we would be no better than her if we interfered in His plan.”

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Gracie C. McKeever

“Then we will be leaving Zack at her mercy. We will be leaving them both at her mercy.”

“He does not make mistakes. His will be done.”

Micah grumbled and Jamaereh tried not to chuckle in his face.

Micah was a cynical curmudgeon on a normal day, always believing the worst of human nature and never giving the benefit of the doubt. It was why Micah and He butt heads so often. Micah didn’t believe in second chances and He believed in giving chances until an individual got it right, reincarnation one of his favorite methods of redemption.

“We should at least appeal to Him, show Him what is going on.”

Jamaereh arched a brow and silently stared at Micah until the other angel saw the error of his thinking.

Micah did some more grumbling and kicked his foot through a nearby cloud. “Well, I think He has fallen down on the job. Why else would He let this travesty continue if He is actually aware and watching?”

“Perhaps He knows something about our young Zara that we do not.”

“What? That she is a spoiled brat?”

“Micah—”

“Well, it is no longer just herself she will be affecting with her selfish acts.

She is planning to kill her brother!”

“I do not think she realizes the damage she will be doing to him if she continues on her present course. And I do not believe she will let it go that far.”

“That is wishful thinking. I believe she is very well aware, just choosing to ignore the repercussions since they will interfere with her pursuit of fulfillment.”

“Will you stop pacing? All that friction is going to cause a thunderstorm, and I for one was enjoying the beautiful summer weather.”

“Jamaereh, we have a serious situation here! Who cares about the

weather?”

“There is nothing we can do unless you want to go up against Him directly and question His authority. And you know what happened the last time you tried that, do you not?”

Micah fiercely blushed. “I remember perfectly well what happened.”

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“Besides, I truly believe she is like a new bird and is just trying her wings.”

“Her wings end where Zack’s nose begins.”

“Unfortunately, our Father is not into civil liberties like He is into divine rights.”

“She has discovered His loophole and is drunk on the power now. There is no telling what the girl will do before this is all over. And I, for one, do not want another dead innocent bystander on my hands.”

“She is not Jack, Micah. She is much smarter, and more sensitive than that, and I believe she can be redeemed.”

“Then we all are gambling with Zack’s life.”

“I know.”

* * * *

They paused at the elevator. Zara with her back, stiff and straight to Quincy, and her arms folded across her breasts.

Quincy wanted to reach out and touch her, but her haughty, peeved stance warned him to stay away, at least until she was ready to forgive him for not granting the princess her wish.

He smiled, ready to give in, at least a little, right before the doors to the elevator opened and he noticed too late that there was no car.

Zara took a step.

It seemed she moved in slow motion, still disappearing so fast into the dark void that when Quincy shouted and reached for her, only his fingertips brushed a sleeve of her dress.

The echo of Zara’s scream followed him when he dragged himself from the depths of his dream and woke up reaching and grabbing for someone who was no longer there.

“Quincy, wake up! You’re having a nightmare.”

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Gracie C. McKeever

Lean, strong arms wrapped around him and held tight. A soft voice whispered soothing words in his ear. “You’re all right, baby. It’s just a dream.

You’re okay…”

He couldn’t decide if his psyche would be safer asleep or awake.

In the dream world he had to face the death of his friend again and again.

Awake he’d have to look into the familiar eyes of Zara’s twin knowing he had let her die.

Quincy opened his eyes, immediately met with the penetrating, indigo gaze of his lover and slid his arms around Zack to return the other man’s hug.

“Were you dreaming about the accident?”

“All the time.”

“Me too.”

Quincy arched a brow and released Zack to lean up on an elbow. “Why?”

Zack shrugged. “Not exactly sure. Probably for the same reasons you do.”

They never really discussed Zara’s death at length before, probably because they were both there—one in body and one in spirit—and didn’t need to dissect what each had experienced. But maybe it was time that they got it out in the open.

“Want to talk about it?”

Zack sat up and silently faced him, blue eyes so dark they looked black.

“It might help us both to get it out.”

“You really think so?”

“Couldn’t hurt.”

“Speak for yourself.”

Quincy chuckled and put an arm around Zack, pulling him close to his side and holding him. “We’ll be each other’s therapy.”

“That was Zara’s gig you know, therapy and self-improvement. That girl never met a self-help book she didn’t like.”

Quincy laughed. “I know what you mean. But she tried.”

“She did that.” Zack cuddled closer. “I miss her.”

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“I do too.” Quincy cupped Zack’s chin and tipped up his head. “Do you blame me?”

“Of course not!” Zack sprang up to sit against the mahogany headboard and gaped at Quincy. “Why would you ask that?”

Quincy wasn’t sure himself until the next words left his mouth:

“Sometimes I blame myself.” Who was he kidding, sometimes? Not a minute went by that he didn’t feel responsible for what happened to Zara.

“Why? There was nothing you could have done.”

“That’s the party line I recite to keep the guilt at bay. But it doesn’t work very well.”

“It was an accident.”

“If she hadn’t been so angry with me she might have been looking where she was going, not so eager to flounce away. If I had reacted a little quicker I might have saved her.”

“And if wishes were horses, I’d own a horse ranch by now.”

“What about you? What’s your story, Zack? You felt her didn’t you? Felt her slip away?” Quincy noticed Zack wince and wished he could take back his words except for the curiosity. The twin bond was one that had always fascinated him, especially the bond between Zack and Zara, two of the most important people in the world to him. That one was gone and one was hurting from that loss tore at him daily, made him question pursuing Zack when all he wanted to do was have him in his life and keep him safe.

“Is that why you want to be with me, Quincy?”

Quincy couldn’t even get angry at Zack’s words since he had wondered at his own motivations a time or two. Then he’d remember his first time meeting Zack, the instant attraction and lust that had grown into genuine affection the more he had been around the other man, and he knew the answer. “I’m
with
you, because I love you.”

Zack settled back against him, a pleased grin on his face. It didn’t escape Quincy that the other man didn’t return his declaration, nor did it surprise him.

It had taken Quincy years to admit his feelings for Zack. It had taken an accident to finally bring them together to admit his feelings
to
Zack. He didn’t doubt it would take some time for Zack to come to the same conclusion that 62

Gracie C. McKeever

Quincy had come to months ago: that he wanted to be with Quincy for the rest of his life.

* * * *

It should have been her. It should have been her that Quincy professed his love to. It should have been her snuggled close to his hard, warm body, benefiting from Quincy’s sensitive caresses and assurances.

Why couldn’t he profess his love for
her
the way he professed his love for Zack? She
wasn’t
his little sister and resented being treated like one.

She deserved to be with him. She’d earned him.

Zara had been friends with Quincy first. She had been with him through all his college highs and lows long before Zack had shown up to steal her thunder.

When Quincy’s mother berated his sexuality again and again because he refused to fund her crack and drug habits, it was Zara who’d been there to pick up the emotional pieces. When Quincy had gotten dumped by yet another guy who didn’t recognize a good man right under his nose, Zara had been there to console, cajole and take Quincy out on commiseration benders. When Quincy had gotten sick with the flu their freshman year in college, it had been Zara who fed him homemade chicken noodle soup (her specialty and the only thing she cooked) and plied him with medicine for a week until she’d nursed him back to health.

But Zack showed up on her doorstep one day in his bohemian, khaki shorts and his hippy-liberal-slogan T-shirt, and Quincy fell head-over-heels for him like Zara never existed, like the previous four years hadn’t happened.

She knew her jealousy was unwarranted--illogical even--but couldn’t help feeling it nonetheless. She’d never been a logical person. She ran on emotions, spontaneity the name of her game. Logic was Zack and Quincy’s territory.

Zara inhaled, pulled air in through Zack’s lungs and sampled Quincy’s spicy, sandalwood musk while Zack fell asleep.

She was the most insidious kind of voyeur, spying from the inside out, and it had taken everything in her to stay quiet and listen to Quincy’s professions of love to Zack without making her presence known.

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Why wouldn’t Zack say ‘I love you’ in return? Did he not know a good thing when he saw it, when he had it in his grasp?

Zack was no better than the other twinkies and bois who had come and gone in Quincy’s life while she remained ever faithful, ever in love.

Her brother didn’t deserve Quincy.

She did.

64

Gracie C. McKeever

Something weird was going on with Zack.

Quincy had felt it a little the night of the opening, but was more convinced of it in the last week that he and Zack had spent together. And it wasn’t just a spiritual and mental weirdness. Something was happening to him, changing, physically.

No matter what Zack ate, or how much food Quincy plied him with, Zack seemed to be wasting away before Quincy’s eyes. A diet was one thing, but as lean as Zack already was, without an extra ounce of fat on his 5’9” frame, Quincy didn’t see the need for one.

If he didn’t know better, he’d swear Zack was on the pipe, bulimic or that he had the monster. The latter he knew wasn’t true because since Quincy’s first visit to Zack’s when they’d agreed to be exclusive, he and Zack had exchanged their most recent medical information. Zack’s last negative test had been six months before, just like Quincy’s.

Bulimia was as unlikely. Zack had a healthy appetite and ate his share, but what he put in his body didn’t seem to stick. Also, he and Quincy had been in each other’s company almost constantly for the last week and Quincy never saw Zack make any of those tell-tale trips to the bathroom after a meal.

Weird and
creepy
and it reminded Quincy of that Stephen King book,
Thinner.

That left the pipe.

Quincy knew the signs of crack and drug abuse better than anyone. He’d spent the better part of his late teen years ministering to a mother too fragile to deal with the realities of her husband’s desertion and her only son’s homosexuality.