Inheriting Evil

by K S Logan

  “Looking for something?” Grace turned around quickly, startled by Morvin’s deep voice.

  “Fairies,” Grace replied. “I think there are fairies in your garden.” Maybe Morvin wouldn’t be angry if she thought fairies were living here too. Perhaps she’d help Grace look for them.

  “Hahaha...what a little fool you are.” Morvin walked toward her quickly. “Get out!”

  Grace backed up, made a move to the gate, trying to brush past her much bigger, older sister. Morvin grabbed Grace’s right arm and yanked it hard, swirling Grace around to face her.

  “What’s that? What have you got in your greasy little mitt?” She snatched a pretty bluebell from Grace’s grasp. “Killing things now? How dare you come in here, where you know you’re forbidden, and steal one of my flowers?” Morvin pushed Grace in the chest, and she fell backwards, her rump landing on a sharp-edged rock. “Get out, I said!”

  “I’m trying,” Grace started to cry as she stood up, rubbing her sore bottom. “I’m sorry.”

  Morvin mimicked her, “I’m sorry. What a loser you are. Get out!” Morvin was yelling now. “I don’t want you here. No one wants you here. Why don’t you just run away? Go to the gimp hospital and be with other gimps. You don’t belong here.” Morvin grabbed the now crushed flower from Grace’s small hand. “Oh, here, wait. You killed it so you may as well keep it. In fact,” she grabbed Grace painfully by the wrist, “eat it.”

  “What?” said Grace, wiping the tears from her face.

  “Deaf, you little wimp? I said, eat it.” Morvin pressed the blue flower against Grace’s lips, using her sharp nails to pry them open. Grace tried to hold them shut tight, but Morvin’s nails were hurting her. She relented, and Morvin jammed the flower against her teeth and shoved it to the back of Grace’s mouth. “Tell anyone, and you know what’ll happen. Now get out!”

  Thinking back on it brought tears again to Grace’s eyes. She felt sorry for her younger self. It wasn’t fair at all to have grown up in that environment. It took a long time for her to realize she didn’t deserve it, and it wasn’t her fault.

  She continued to walk the grounds, saddened to see the vibrant, lush bushes and shrubs, once tended faithfully by greens keepers and landscapers, become such an intertwined mess of neglected, overgrown brush. She picked her way through the jungle by following a fairly well-worn path that was no doubt traveled frequently by Morvin on her way to her little piece of Eden. How could she, a lover of everything green, let the rest of the grounds fall to ruin like this?

  Grace eventually came to the massive arbor, draped in wicked, gnarly, twisting vines that housed the entrance to Morvin’s garden. The rusty, metal gate was barely visible. The hinge shrieked as she pushed it open. Entering the garden was like leaving one world behind and arriving in another.

  It truly is beautiful, thought Grace, as she stood there and took in its splendor. Morvin did have an undeniable, extraordinary talent when it came to plants and flowers. Impatiens of all colors, still blooming but on their last burst of the season, bordered the lush green grass in a waving pattern. Beyond them were full, manicured rhododendrons, hydrangeas, and English lavender, which was their father’s favorite. A sweet little iron table and chairs sat under a canopy of burgundy trumpet vines. The scene was enchanting.

  Grace walked deeper into the botanical paradise. She heightened her thick scarf over her chin, denying the steel fingers of the icy breeze access to her bare skin. Following the narrow pebbled path flanked with meadowsweet, she came across a new addition—a frog pond, complete with water lilies and long green reeds along the edge.

  Grace remembered reading that water hemlock grew near marshes and streams and took out her phone. She opened the pictures and the snap of the article she had taken in her father’s library and scanned the foliage around the pond, comparing the image to a few unique looking plants.

  Her eyes widened in disbelief. There it was. She reread the article: ‘a poisonous plant that, when ingested, causes seizures, nausea, abdominal pain, and confusion. Death can occur in just a few hours by respiratory failure or ventricular fibrillation.’

  Also known as...a heart attack.

  Grace’s ears twitched as she heard the gate open. She nearly tripped over a dew-covered rock but found her footing and scrambled behind the thick trunk of a large, prickly holly tree. She was shaking, crouched there, her eyes clenched shut, her heart hammering in her chest. She felt five years old again, terrified of being caught.

  She listened for footsteps. A rustling came from the distance, maybe twenty feet away, across the pond for sure. The sound continued, light and fluttery, getting closer. She chanced a peek around the tree and blew out a huge breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding. There, in the bordering ground cover by the pond, sat a plump brown hare, enjoying a morning nibble. It startled and took off like a shot when Grace emerged from her hiding place.

  Deciding she’d seen enough, Grace took a quick picture of Morvin’s coveted poisonous plant and left the garden. Morvin could quite possibly be up to something truly vile and unthinkable, even for her.

  Grace was now on a mission to find out.

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  “Mother, can I get an advance on next week’s allowance, plus just a little extra? Me and Gav need to up our tool inventory for this gardening gig.” Keaton knew if he related anything to gardening or landscaping, his mother would be pleased.

  Morvin looked up from her half-chopped green onions.

  “Not a chance. You’re already a week ahead in your allowance. You’ve got to learn to be more responsible with money, Keaton.” She shook her head at him.

  It seemed she was always shaking her head at him lately, just like Granny did. He had become so sick of hearing that selfish old bat always telling him how fortunate he was to be in this family and that he should go out and make his difference. What the hell did that mean anyway?

  “Stop wasting your time on these games,” Granny would always say when he asked for anything. “You spend too much time on your behind in front of that screen, young man. There are men your age fighting wars and running countries while you sit there wasting your life.” Oh man, he was getting one of his headaches just thinking about her nagging voice. She would look at him over her glasses and click her tongue at him, “Tsk, tsk, tsk.” He stopped himself many times from blowing up at her or just winding up, and...but that would probably have landed him on the street. He wasn’t that stupid. He always stole from her room later anyway...dumb old bat.

  “By the way,” said Morvin, “some man ringed for you this morning. And he was insulting and rude.” Morvin wiped her hands on a kitchen towel and then folded her arms in front of her. “Are you in trouble again?”

  Shit. The guy had his number now? Keaton rubbed at the back of his neck, remembering that gorilla-sized hand holding him by his shirt and shaking him around like a bag of sticks.

  “Where’s the money, eh? You little shit.” The guy’s head was the biggest Keaton had ever seen. He always wore the same gray hoodie with the sleeves pushed past his elbows, revealing massive tattooed forearms that would rival Popeye’s.

  He’d been following Keaton for weeks now. He saw him everywhere. At first, the guy just stood there, across the street from the arcade or casino. He’d stand there with a weird grin and point at Keaton, then rub his fingertips together in the money gesture. Keaton tried to ignore him and walk away in the opposite direction. Now Keaton was seeing him outside the house gates. Clearly, he knew where he lived and, apparently, also had his phone number. On Saturday, Keaton found a note on his car that read, ‘Have exactly half of wat you owe by Friday, kid, or this is gonna get ugly.’

  If his stupid-ass mother would hand over some cash, he knew he could double it at the casino and at least pay the guy something. He’d won a little at that hot chick’s blackjack table lately. She was giving him the eye the other night. Maybe she’d go easy on him, let him win a few if he kept making moves on her. Maybe sh
e’d let him get real lucky, later, after her shift.

  Keaton ignored his mother’s question and pressed on.

  “But it’s for work. I like working at the nursery, and with new tools, Charlie will give me more jobs.”

  He’d begun to reach that demanding octave, making Morvin slightly uneasy.

  “Look, dear,” she said, trying to soften him a bit, “you know you don’t even have to worry about working. We’ll have plenty of money when the will gets settled. Charlie only asks for your help when he needs a big strong boy around.”

  “I am not a boy! Just give me the money, Mum. I need it now!” He stomped forward on the last word causing Morvin to take a step back. Why did she always waste his time with her arguing? She always gave it to him in the end anyway. Couldn’t we skip this bullshit for once?

  “Keaton!” she yelled. She took a deep breath. “Calm down. What have you gotten yourself into this time? You’ve been gambling again, haven’t you?” It wouldn’t be the first time Keaton gambled and lost. Just last year, she’d had to ask her mother for money to pay off his credit cards. That was humiliating. Now, with all the money tied up in the will and possibly going to Grace, she might not be able to help him at all. What then? She couldn’t bear the thought.

  “And you’re probably smoking marijuana too,” she continued. “I want you to stop hanging around with that Matthew; he’s nothing but a loser. You’re better than that. You come from good blood, Keaton. What’s wrong with you? When are you going to get it together?”

  Even though he was a little slow at getting started, Morvin always believed he had greatness in him. As a young boy, he was so very bright. It was middle school when the problems began.

  “Here we go,” said Keaton. “I just told you what the fucking money’s for. Is there something wrong with your hearing?” He moved closer, looming over her. “I hate when you think I’m always lying. Maybe I should take off, never see you again. How would that be?”

  Morvin couldn’t bear the thought of losing her son. He was all she had left in the world. Even Keaton’s father had left them; everyone left them. Money was so tight right now but wouldn’t be if there wasn’t this issue with the will. Now she had to wait and fight for what was rightly theirs. And fight she would. Grace had always gotten everything she ever wanted, little princess. Not this time.

  “Are you lying to me again, Keaton? You can talk to me, son.” She went to move his red hair off his face, but he swatted her arm away.

  “Yeah, okay, look. Someone’s after me for money. And I’m fucking scared, Mum. So help me out here. Please.” He gave her the best sorrowful look he could muster to convince the stupid bitch to cough up.

  “Well,” Morvin stammered, “I guess I can manage a little extra right now.” She lifted her purse from a kitchen chair, opened her wallet, and handed Keaton two twenty pound notes. Keaton snatched the money out of her hand and then grabbed her purse.

  “I’ll be having all of it,” he growled. He took the remaining cash out of Morvin’s wallet. “This is it? Is this all you have?” A lousy fifty wasn’t going to be enough. Now he’d have to find another way to get money or ‘Mr. Forearms’ was going to lay some serious hurt on him. He took out Morvin’s Visa and smashed her wallet on the counter, crushing her green onions beneath it

  Without looking at her or saying another word, he turned and left the house, slamming the door behind him.

  Morvin put her hand to her throat and closed her mouth, then turned and numbly went about cleaning up the mess on the counter.

  He was fuming as he got behind the wheel of Morvin’s car. He reached into his pocket for his keys...not there.

  “Fucking bitch’s got me all screwed up.”

  He ran back to the front door but turned when he felt eyes on him. Was that someone watching him? Keaton was terrified of the enormous guy following him. He scanned the driveway as he backed up the stairs. He missed the last step and went down hard on his bony ass.

  “Awe, shit!” he cried out. “What was that?” he heard a noise from the side hedge. Prickles of panic crept up the back of his neck as he got to his feet. Keaton took one last quick look over his shoulder and entered the house.

  He checked the sitting room for his keys, then the kitchen. Maybe he left them upstairs. He scaled the large staircase two stairs at a time and stopped at the top.

  Why was there music coming from his dead grandmother’s room?

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  It can’t be right, thought Grace, as she made her way through the large mansion to her mother’s bedroom on the third floor. She was stunned after discovering the poisonous plant in Morvin’s garden.

  She carried a large empty box. If it looked like she was starting to pack up Mother’s things, Morvin wouldn’t suspect that she was snooping.

  Grace stood in the middle of her mother’s bedroom. Strange how the scent of her perfume still lingered, but the wearer, her mother, was gone. She remembered sitting at the brass vanity in the corner after an evening bath, her mother brushing her hair behind her.

  She began putting items, one by one, into the box. Each one created in her mind a short movie about her past. Grace opened the top drawer of the vanity and riffled through some papers. There were some old pictures of her dad, herself, and Morvin, who wasn’t smiling in any of them.

  “What’s this?” she asked no one in particular. Under the old photos was a little children’s book that her mother used to read to her. Grace sat back in the vanity chair and smiled to herself. “Racketty-Packetty House,” she said aloud, nodding. Her mother loved this book even more than Grace did.

  She carefully opened the timeworn cover; the date on the inside read 1906, and it appeared to be a first edition. The little gem was bound in original blue cloth. The spine was worn, of course, but it was in pretty good shape. “You’re not going in the box, little beauty.” She put it to the side.

  She walked over to her mother’s nightstand and picked up a music box that Grace had given her for a Christmas gift many years ago. She wiped the dust off the top and lifted the heavy glass lid. Lara’s Theme began to play in plucky little notes that made Grace’s eyes fill with tears. The tune echoed hauntingly in the large bedroom. “You’re a keeper too.” She put it on the night table beside the book and let the song play as she continued with her task.

  “Nice tunes.”

  Grace was startled and drew in a loud gasp. Keaton was standing leisurely in the doorway with a smirk on his pocked face. He entered the room and walked over to her.

  “Hello, Keaton,” said Grace. “I guess it’s time we started packing some stuff away. Brings back a lot of memories, though.”

  Keaton approached her as she knelt beside the large box. He was standing uncomfortably close, his belt buckle right in her face. Grace stood up and moved away from him, but he followed her closely.

  “What do you want, Keaton? I’m busy here.” Grace started feeling uneasy by his pressuring manner and strange expression. He backed her up against the wall. She put her hand against his chest to stop him, but he closed right in on her.

  “You know what your problem is, Auntie Gracey? You’re hard up. I think a little Keaton action will loosen you up just nicely.” He fingered the buttons on her cardigan. “Let’s have a look at what’s under that tight little sweater of yours.”

  His yellow teeth were just inches from her eyes. He was taller than her, and although he was skinny, he looked sinewy and thug-tough. He put his hand on her breast as he continued to press her into the wall with his hardening body.

  “Get the hell away from me!” Grace tried to push him off. He grabbed her left arm and raised it, pinning it to the wall, hurting her wrist. She couldn’t fight him off with her frail right arm, a fact he was aware of, unfortunately.

  “What ya’ gonna do now, wounded sparrow? Come on. You want it. I know you do.” He was breathing his putrid breath all over her neck, nearly making her gag. He started gyrating hard against her body. He la
ughed. He was enjoying himself.

  “I said, let me go!” Grace slammed her heel onto his toes, causing him to keel forward, releasing her arm in the process. She grabbed a handful of his greasy hair and drove his face into her knee and then pushed him away. He fell to the ground, cursing and holding his nose.

  “You stupid bitch. Look what you did to my nose. I think it’s fucking broken!”

  Grace was making her way to the doorway when Morvin appeared in front of her.

  “What’s going on?” she demanded.

  “Your son just assaulted me!” Grace was out of breath. “He came in here and put his hands on me, and he pinned me against the wall.” She looked at Keaton. “You’re a sick bastard! There’s something wrong with you.”

  “Yeah, right. Like I would want an old whore like you.” He got to his feet. “Lucky thing I forgot my keys, Mum. I was on my way out again but stopped and came in here because I heard Granny’s music box playing, and she started yelling at me to get out. She punched me in the face because I wouldn’t leave her alone to snoop in Granny’s things.”

  “I’ll have you up on charges if you ever touch my son again,” Morvin said, pointing her finger at Grace. She helped Keaton out of the room to tend to him. “His nose better not be broken, or I’ll have you arrested!”

  Grace stood there, her mouth hanging open, not quite able to grasp what just happened. She shook her head in disgust and disbelief.

  “He accosted me!” she yelled at them as they walked away down the hall toward the bathroom. “Well,” Grace said to herself, “you’d be proud of me, Devi. Those lessons were worth every damn penny.”

  She straightened her blouse and smoothed her disheveled hair off her face, then grabbed the little children’s book and walked down the hall to her room, slamming the door behind her.