by Lola StVil
“I know what you’re trying to do, Kane. You’re trying to scare me, make me fear you. Make me hate you. It’s not going to happen. You being Keysu won’t make me do any of that.”
“I might not be able to bring myself to kill you, but I will bring destruction and devastation to everyone and everything around you. I will destroy you,” Kane says.
The pain on his face is too much for me to bear, and I look back down at the book again. He’s still talking, still trying to persuade me to give up on him, but I’m not listening anymore. The book has my attention as I stumble across a reference to the Alacore’s one known remaining location.
“Kane, I’ve got it,” I say excitedly, cutting him off.
“I’ve found the Alacore’s location.”
He doesn’t ask me for any details, but he stops talking and waits for me to go on. I take it as a good sign.
“The Alacore can still be found on the Isle of Tris. Do you know where that is?” I ask.
Kane nods.
“Yeah. It’s basically a small island in the middle of the Pacific Ocean where evil goes to learn the art of torture,” he says.
“Sounds fun,” I remark with a grin.
I get to my feet and start for the door.
“Let’s go,” I say.
Kane reaches out and grabs my arm, stopping me and turning me to face him.
“Did you hear what I just said?” he demands.
He holds me in place, waiting for an answer. Our faces are inches apart and I can feel the electricity brewing between us even now.
“Yeah, I did, and I don’t care. I’m going to that island, with or without you.”
I try to break free, but Kane doesn’t release his grip on my arm.
“It’s too dangerous,” he says.
“I don’t care if it’s dangerous. I care about you. About us. Don’t you get that? I know there’s good in you. You’re worth the risk.”
“After everything you’ve heard about me, you still believe that?” he asks, looking both surprised and frustrated.
I nod my head.
“Of course I do. You had the worst possible experience as a human. Your adoptive mom sold you. You have a right to be angry and want revenge. But that doesn’t mean you are beyond redemption. I know in my heart that you are good inside. I’ve seen it. And as long as I love you, there is nothing I won’t do to try and save you.”
Kane’s face changes and his grip on me relaxes slightly. I really think I’m getting through to him.
“So as long as you love me, you’ll keep trying to save me?” he says.
“Yes,” I say, looking into his eyes.
He leans forward and kisses me gently.
“Then I need to make sure you stop loving me,” he says.
“Never gonna happen,” I reply.
“It will. In fact, I’m going to make sure you hate me,” he says.
I open my mouth to protest, but Kane leans forward again, removing the distance between us. His lips meet mine, cutting off my words. He kisses me deeply, passionately, and I feel my body respond. I melt into him as he holds me tightly against him.
He pulls back, long before I’m ready for the kiss to be over. He looks at me sadly for a moment before his face hardens and his body tenses up.
He holds me tightly and teleports me away from the bookstore.
I’m a little dizzy and disoriented as we land. I stumble a little and Kane reaches out a hand to steady me.
We stand in a dimly lit corridor that I soon recognize to be part of a seedy looking casino. I can hear the trilling of the machines and the croupier’s voice ringing out:
“Place your bets.”
The air smells of stale beer and vomit.
“Nice place. Why the hell are we here?”
Kane doesn’t speak. He takes my hand and leads me forward, past the restrooms, which stink of stale urine and who knows what else, until the corridor opens out onto the main floor of the casino.
He nods towards the blackjack table. My father sits there, beads of sweat standing out on his forehead, between two other equally desperate looking men.
I watch, silent, as my father squints at his cards, swaying on his chair. He’s drunk and gambling. There’s a surprise.
“If this is your way of trying to make me hate you, you’re going to have to try harder,” I say to Kane. “Like I didn’t already know my father was a drunken gambler.”
He still doesn’t speak. He just gives me a curt nod.
I turn my attention back to the table, where my father nods at the dealer. She deals him a card. He throws his hand down and swears loudly as she neatly sweeps away the last of his chips.
He mutters an unintelligible string of curse words and gets off his chair. He sways and stumbles as he tries to get his balance. I cringe, sure he will fall, but he somehow finds his footing.
He stumbles awkwardly in our direction, lurching from side to side as he goes, still muttering to himself.
I can’t understand most of what he’s saying, but I catch a few choice snippets.
“Robbing bastards.
“Last of my money.”
I’ve heard and seen enough.
I step forward and put my hand on my father’s elbow, leading him away from the watchful eyes of the other gamblers and into the deserted corridor.
“Dad. Let’s get you home,” I say.
He stops walking and turns towards me, swaying. He peers at me through bleary eyes. It takes him a moment to recognize me.
“Atlas. What are you doing here?” he slurs.
I’m washed in a haze of beery fumes that make me want to gag. I swallow it down and force myself to smile.
“I came to take you home,” I say.
He stumbles forward another couple of steps.
“I’m not going anywhere until I get my money back. This is a—”
I cut him off. “Sure thing. Yeah, Dad, I know. But I need to get you home.”
I glance at Kane, but he’s no help. He walks on the other side of my father, making no effort to help me.
“You need to come with me,” I say to my father. “Please, Dad. Look at yourself.”
The veneer slips. I can’t keep up the concerned daughter act anymore.
“What did you say to me?” my father says angrily, slurring as he snatches his arm away from me.
He stumbles back a step but keeps his footing.
“I said look at yourself. You’re drunk, and you lost all your money… again.”
“Ahhh.” He grins, ignoring the venom in my words.
“Not quite all of it.”
He flashes a triumphant grin as he pulls a crumpled twenty-dollar bill from his jeans pocket.
“I just need to take a piss and then I’m going to win it all back.”
He goes to tap on the side of his temple, but he misses and winds up poking himself in the side of his nose instead. He doesn’t seem to notice.
“Your old man’s still all there, see,” he says.
He lurches forward another few steps, already beginning to unzip his fly.
“Dad, stop!” I shout in horror.
My father has hit rock bottom many times before, and I thought I’d seen it all, but somehow, the thought of him peeing in a casino corridor shows just how wasted he is.
“Dad, please,” I beg.
He waves a clumsy hand in my direction.
“Relax, Atlas. You are so uptight,” he says.
He stumbles again, and this time, he can’t find his feet. My father topples backwards and lands on his back with a loud thud. We rush over to him. I ask if he’s okay and he laughs in his drunken haze. From the corner of my eye, I see a shiny light reflecting off a metal surface. I turn towards the light—it’s coming from the blade in Kane’s hand. He holds it above my father’s body.
“Kane, no!” I shout.
It’s too late. He plunges the blade into my father. My father’s smile disappears as his mouth twists in agony. I try to stop the bleeding
by placing my hand on his wound, but even as I do so, I know it’s pointless. My father is dead…
I don’t know what just happened. Did Kane really just stab my father? My heart says no, but my eyes and brain are saying yes. I throw him a look so filled with venom I’m shocked when he doesn’t even wince.
I throw myself down on my knees beside my father’s body. The flow of blood from his chest has slowed down to a gentle trickle, but I’m not naïve enough to think that’s a good sign. The large red pool around him and the bubbly red foam on his lips tells me the blood flow has slowed because there’s hardly any left inside of him.
I take his hand in mine, my other hand caressing his bloody cheek.
“Atlas,” he gurgles out in a raspy breath as he speaks through the blood.
“Shh. Try not to talk. Everything’s going to be okay,” I say through tears.
He takes one last shuddering breath and his chest stops moving. Just like that my father, the last of my family, is dead, and I’m all alone in the world.
For a moment, I wonder how no one else in the casino has noticed what’s happening, or even needed to use the restrooms. It’s not the thing I should be focusing on, but it’s easier than thinking about what just happened.
Kane killed my father. Kane killed my father.
It runs through my head on a loop.
Kane killed my father. Kane killed my father.
Footsteps approach from behind me. Finally, someone in the casino has noticed. Maybe we can save him. It’s as though my earlier thought summoned them. Now what the hell do I tell them?
I’m not ready to let go of my father’s hand, although I can already feel it turning cold. How long until rigor mortis sets in? Pest would know.
I turn to face the people approaching me at the same time as I feel a warm hand on my shoulder. I blink when I see my team standing behind me, heads bowed. I can see tears shining in Langston’s eyes as she gently squeezes my shoulder and lets go.
“Let’s get you out of here before anyone sees you,” she says gently.
“Kane killed my father,” I say, making no effort to move.
“I know,” Langston says. “Quinn cast a tracking spell when you disappeared with him, and we were watching to see where you two were going and well… we saw.”
The enormity of it all hits me again and a fresh wave of tears flood down my face.
“I’m all alone in the world,” I say.
Regal steps forward to join Langston.
“No you’re not. You have us,” he says as he bends down and helps me to my feet.
I’m back at the house. I’ve barely slept in the two days since I’ve been back. I haven’t left my room. I just lie here, staring at the ceiling. I know I should make an effort. At the very least I should shower, but I just can’t bring myself to do it.
The team has been fantastic. They’ve really tried everything to make me feel better.
Remy was the first of the team to come to my room after we arrived home and I went to my room without a word.
“I know what you’re going through,” Remy said gently as she sat down on the bed beside me.
“Do you?” I asked, sharper than I meant to.
She looked down at her hands, which were locked together in her lap, then back up at me.
She nodded sadly.
“I’m sorry,” I said. “I just meant that you knew where you stood with your parents. My relationship with my father was complicated to say the least. I just… I don’t know how to grieve for him.”
“Oh, that I can help you with,” Remy said. “Have you heard of the lost Kingdom of Bilertoo?”
I raised an eyebrow, but I shook my head.
“Well you wouldn’t have—it’s lost.” She grinned.
“Their grieving process starts with sacrificing a chicken. Oh wait, that’s not going to work here. My chicken guy’s out of town, and it gets messy, you know?”
Despite myself, I felt myself returning her smile. There was something so inanely funny about the thought of Remy chasing a chicken around that I couldn’t help it.
Encouraged by my smile, she went on.
“We could always do what the Fairy Folk do,” she said.
She didn’t wait for an answer.
“But then where will we find a Munchkin’s hat at such short notice?”
“Damned if I know,” I commented.
“So that really only leaves one solution. There’s a little tribe in Papua New Guinea. They deal with grief with a special dance of sorrow. That we can do.”
I watched, mystified as she got up from the bed and began to gyrate her hips. She threw her hands above her head and let out a whoop sound as she began to turn in a circle, bending her knees and waving her arms around.
I smiled again. She looked so comical.
“There’s nothing funny about this,” Remy said, but I could hear the laugh in her voice. “It’s a very serious process.”
She continued to dance around, her movements getting more and more erratic as she went.
“Oh, I know what would make this even better,” she announced.
“I’ll get Perry to help me.”
She stopped dancing and headed for the door. Suddenly, the ridiculousness of the situation hit me. My father was dead and I was watching Remy dance around, and she wanted a partner to join her.
I knew she was trying to help, but it felt almost disrespectful.
“Please don’t do that,” I said quietly. “I really just want to be alone.”
Remy gently shut the door, but she stayed on the inside of it. She came back to sit beside me on the bed.
“I’m sorry,” she said. “I just wanted to make you smile.”
“And you did,” I said.
“Being alone isn’t what you need right now, Atlas, regardless of what you might think,” she told me.
I went to speak but she didn’t let me interrupt her.
“And I know you probably don’t want to talk. And that’s okay. I get it. But just know that you’re not alone.”
And to her credit, she meant it. She didn’t try to force me to talk and she didn’t try to fill the silence with inane chatter. She lay down beside me on my bed and together, we just stared at the ceiling.
It doesn’t sound like much, but it meant a lot to me. She knew I needed time to process what had happened, and I think she knew better than I did that being alone in that moment was the worst thing that could have happened to me.
As the silent tears poured down my face, Remy lightly held my hand, her thumb stroking my palm until I fell asleep.
I woke up to the morning light streaming in through my still open curtains. I didn’t have the energy to get up and close them, so I rolled over, turning my back on the light.
Like Kane did.
No, I wouldn’t think about that. I couldn’t think about that.
Quinn was next, which surprised me. She was the last person I wanted to see. Well okay, the second to last person I wanted to see, but I didn’t have the energy to fight with her or tell her to leave.
She dragged my armchair over and sat down beside my bed and looked me over.
“I know we haven’t exactly seen eye to eye since you came here, Atlas,” she began.
You think?
“But I want you to know that I’m sorry about your father. And when you’re ready to move on, know that I’m here for you.”
I raised an eyebrow, but I still didn’t speak.
“There are potions that can help you,” she explained gently.
“Close the door on your way out please,” I said.
Why couldn’t they see that I just wanted to be left alone?
“I… ” Quinn started.
She stood up.
“Never mind. Just… I hope you feel better soon.”
She left, closing the door like I asked. At least she did that much. And when she tells the team about the response to her offer of help, I’m sure the rest of them will take a hi
nt.
I just can’t believe my father is gone. Don’t get me wrong, he was never a contender for father of the year. Hell, he was barely even a father at all, but he was still my family. My flesh and blood. And now he’s gone, and I don’t know how to grieve for him.
My father and I were never close but I always thought there would be time. I thought he’d get himself together and that we’d fix it. I thought somehow, someway, we’d finally be on the same side. I thought I had all the time in the world.
Grieving for my mother was easy. We were close. I loved her, she loved me, and we were never afraid to make that known. My relationship with my father was more complicated. I suppose I did love him, and I know in some ways he loved me, but it was strained. He would always love gambling more than he loved me, and I thought I’d made my peace with that, but it seems like I haven’t.
How do you grieve for someone who was barely in your life? How has the loss of someone I never really had left such a big hole inside of me that I’m afraid I’ll never feel whole again?
A noise outside my window distracts me from my thoughts, and with a huge effort, I drag myself up into a sitting position so that I can see.
Please tell me they aren’t spying on me through the window.
They aren’t.
I can see Saudia and Tracey. They are sitting together under the large tree that’s a few feet away from my window. They’re laughing and whispering, and the way they look at each other makes me think that the “ex” part of their relationship isn’t going to last much longer.
It seems they’re thinking the same thing as Saudia leans in towards Tracey and their lips meet. They share a kiss so full of love and passion that I feel an ache in my heart.
I turn away, uncomfortable watching their private moment.
I want to scream out to Saudia, to make her stop and think about what she’s doing. I want to stop her from getting in too deep with Tracey and feeling even a fraction of the heartbreak I feel. Love hurts. It hurts more than anything I’ve ever felt, and I don’t want to see Saudia let her emotions cloud her judgement like I allowed mine to.
My thoughts about Saudia bring it all flooding back in. Kane. The way he held me and told me he loved me. The way I stupidly believed him. I thought he would do anything to protect me, and instead, he hurt me more than anyone ever could. And in ways I would never even have thought possible.