Sleight of Hand: The Final Card

Chapter 5

The first day of traveling went by without a hitch, which surprised Aivilo. From the moment they'd pulled away from Kurtis's modest home in the middle of nowhere, Aivilo had been tense, on alert for any sign of danger. She had a feeling most of the others were experiencing the same emotions. Besides Trebor, none of them had left Kurtis's house since being released, and even then, the Mage had been so far away and unable to touch them. Now, though, it felt like he might attack any time.

Aivilo glanced around the car. Kurtis was silently driving, Bacon in the passenger seat. Occasionally he would comment on something or give Kurtis directions, but most of the time sat with his yellow eyes gazing out the front windshield quietly. Behind them, Alyakim was asleep against the door. Mac was leaning on the other side, listening to music from corded headphones and fiddling with some small slivers of scrap metal that he had pulled out of one of his many pockets. Rae was squished in the middle, her bulky black headphones cov­ering her ears, blocking out the sounds around her and blasting music in her ears instead. Aivilo could tell because she could hear guitar riffs and drum breaks and thumping bass faintly emitting from the headphones.

Blitz was curled up next to Aivilo, snoozing in the sun. Her tail was curled around her, and the tip was settled over her muzzle. Every so often, when the car hit a bump, Blitz would squint open an eye in annoyance before snapping it shut again.

Aivilo looked to her right. Trebor rested with his back against the side of the car, his hoodie behind his head and shoulders like a pillow. His eyes were closed, and his head was lolled to one side, exposing his neck and Adam's apple. His long legs were still stretched across Aivilo's lap, and his arms were crossed over his broad chest. They rose and fell rhythmically with his breathing. Aivilo studied her best friend a little closer.

Poor thing.

The dark circles under his eyes had only worsened since he'd been killed by the Mage. He hid it well, but she knew Trebor struggled to sleep in those days after, when everyone was recovering from another defeat by the Mage. Ever since being healed by his mother, Aivilo felt she and Althea had a close relationship, one that included motherliness.

Althea had confided in Aivilo after the fact, thanking Aivilo endlessly for saving her son and expressing her concern for him.

"He fights going to sleep," she had said. "He's afraid to, because of the nightmares he experiences. I think because he was always there to witness what it was like for you to have bad dreams about your trauma, and now he's experiencing it himself, it terrifies him. He will wake up in the middle of the night, gasping for air and unable to breathe, with tears in his eyes. He's unable to stand or move. Terror just... takes over. It rules his mind, hindering him from rationalizing. It makes him think he's continuing to experi­ence what he did when he died."

Althea had looked at Aivilo with such sadness in her eyes that day.

"The worst part is, he refuses to tell anyone. Besides me, he won't let anyone know what he's going through, and it's just hurt­ing him. He's too proud to admit that he needs the help of another, but nobody is strong enough to withstand that kind of pain and fear alone. Because it's a weakness in his eyes, he will not let any­one help him."

Aivilo sighed, gazing at Trebor's sleeping form and feeling melancholy for him.

I wish you would let me help you, Tre, she thought.

She remembered all those nights after her parents were murdered and she was staying with his family, where she would wake with screams on her lips and tears in her eyes and on her cheeks, mixed with sweat on her pillow. She remembered feeling that helplessness and weakness as horror overtook her mind, replaying again and again what she most would like to forget. She remem­bered every single night. Every one, because Trebor was always there. Every time she had a night­mare, it was like he knew. Maybe he could sense it. More than likely, he just heard everything because of his acute senses. Every night, he would make his way into her room, silently climb on her bed where she would be sobbing into her hands, and hold her firmly in his stead­fast arms. He would rock her in his lap, letting her cry into his chest, letting her hug his neck weakly as her mind was burned and scarred with images of that night.

Gradually, the nightmares subsided, and only came occasionally, but it had taken weeks, months even, for her to reach that point. And it still hadn't been enough. She still dreamed about it, was still terrified of falling asleep only to enter a world that was haunted and evil and torturous. She was still coping. And now, so was he.

Aivilo hadn't realized when it had happened, but she had fallen asleep, too. The only reason she knew was because a jerk of movement woke her up. She opened her eyes to find Trebor sitting up, rigid. His eyes flashed with fear, and Aivilo immediately knew. He'd had another nightmare. She had to admit, he was holding it together very well, compared to what his mother had told her. Though he breathed a little heavily, he was breathing. His eyes focused on hers, and he seemed to relax.

"Sorry," he mumbled, settling back on his hoodie. He withdrew his legs from her lap and set them on the floor, griping because he couldn't stretch them out.

"You okay?" Aivilo asked, hoping he might open up. He just nodded and set his head against the window, gaz­ing out at the passing scenes. She could tell from the look in his tired eyes that he wanted to go back to sleep and rest more, but his mind wouldn't let him.

She reached over and tugged on his arm. He studied her curiously as he gave into her pulling. She pulled until he was practically leaning on her. His face was within inches of hers. He seemed stiff at first, still gazing at her under a raised eyebrow.

Aivilo tried to ignore the sudden thought in her head: He's really close. She put her arm around him and pushed on his head so it rested on her shoulder.

"What are you doing?" he muttered, still stiff under her arm.

"Go back to sleep," she said.

"Aiv, I—" he started, lifting his head, but he was cut off when Aivilo pushed his head back down.

When he started to protest again, she said, "Come on, Tre. You look exhausted, and I can see in your eyes that you want to."

She opted to leave out the part about him being terri­fied of sleeping because of the nightmares. Still, he seemed to tense at her words. He clenched his jaw, but gradually began to relax with a heavy sigh. After about five minutes, he was sound asleep again. Aivilo pulled Trebor's hoodie over him, though she knew it wouldn't be that effective. If he got cold, she'd turn it into a blanket. She doubted that would happen, though, because heat seemed to bleed out of him and envelope her. The scent of him and his shampoo danced in her nose. She'd never really thought about it before, but he smelled... really good. She couldn't quite name what it was, but it was something soft and sweet mixed with something musky and dark. Like... the leather of his gloves and his natural scent combined with something woody and mysterious... patchouli maybe? It was comforting.

Within moments, Aivilo felt her own eyelids droop, and her worries of being attacked by the Mage vanished for the time being. She felt... safe. Here, with Trebor next to her. She felt protected and cared for. Maybe that's why it had been so easy to let him in from the start.

So what did she need to do to let Trebor feel safe? What could she do to make him feel comfortable around her? How could she offer herself so that he wanted to open up to her?

Stillwondering, Aivilo found herself slipping into a calming, quiet sleep, Trebor'swarmth still seeping into her from where he rested against her side.