Everlasting Flame

by Katelyn Anderson

  Chapter Seven

  I didn’t know what true love was; all I had known was loss. Love towards family was different. When you are born, the love for your parents was basically imprinted on you because they nurture and care for you, help you grow. That was a different kind of love. Loving a person who you want to spend the rest of your life with, that’s the kind of love I hadn’t experienced just yet. Being the age I was, that was expected, but I wasn’t sure if I was ready for such a commitment. Seeing Lorenzo upset made me hesitant to take that leap, especially since my heart was already in pieces from losing my parents.

  I needed to be cold-hearted in order to be an assassin. I didn’t have room for love, not when the people responsible for making others live in fear were still wreaking havoc. Love would make me weak. Love would make me hesitate. Hesitating was death. I didn’t want to die until I had accomplished world peace. Only then would I perhaps be ready to love. All I knew was that loving a person wasn’t a choice. It was something you had no control over. I wasn’t speaking from experience. I just knew.

  Damian still wasn’t back yet when Lorenzo and I arrived home. The house wasn’t empty either. Isabelle and Jason were home, lounging on the couch in the living room, playing cards. They both glanced up at us when we entered the room.

  Jason was the spitting image of Damian. His blue eyes were the colour of spring skies. His brown hair was short and spiked with hair product. His face was clean shaven. The likeness between them was almost frightening. Jason was more buff, built like a football player. It was clear to see he loved playing sports.

  Isabelle’s snow coloured hair was tied in a braid that was slanted to the side. She had delicate facial features, just like her mother, and looked like an ice princess. Her eyes were a dazzling blue, almost like ice, borderline to the true colour of an immortal.

  “Hey Joan, Lorenzo, what’s up?” Jason piped up, shuffling the card deck. “We were just finishing off our game. Wanna join?”

  “Nope, I’m good. I take it school finished early?” Lorenzo asked.

  “Yeah. The power went out so they sent us all home,” Jason said, dealing out the cards; he was making a separate pile for me.

  “Lucky you. I’ll leave you three to it. I have a few things to do,” Lorenzo responded, running his hand through his hair. “Damian shouldn’t be too far away.”

  “Where’d he go?” Jason asked.

  “Probably picking up more strays,” Isabelle muttered, resting those cold eyes on me.

  “Izzy, don’t be rude,” Jason scolded, flicking a card at her face.

  “Isabelle,” Lorenzo warned when she parted her lips to speak something undoubtedly nasty. “I wouldn’t.”

  Lorenzo knew what I had done to Isabelle in a different timeline, the turn of events Damian had avoided by making me stay with Lorenzo with my shopping haul. I broke her nose after having a confrontation with her, something that led to me being kicked out. I wouldn’t break her nose right now, knowing that Jacqueline wouldn’t tolerate any violence. If Isabelle continued with her antics, I wasn’t sure I would be able to hold back. When it came to her, it didn’t take long before I wanted to slap her.

  “Fine,” Isabelle declared, sticking her nose up in the air as she got off the couch. “Play your stupid card games without me. I’m going upstairs.”

  Isabelle pushed past Lorenzo and left the room, muttering unintelligible things under her breath.

  “Isn’t she a ray of sunshine today,” Lorenzo mentioned sarcastically, rolling his eyes. “You two kids have fun. No bone breaking.” That last comment was directed at me. “I’m going to lock the door behind me. Don’t let anyone but your parents in, ok, Jason?” Lorenzo called out the last part because he was already at the door.

  “Yes, sir,” Jason called back, giving him a salute even though Lorenzo couldn’t see.

  “Good lad.”

  I sat on the spot where Isabelle had been and crossed my legs. I had already taken off my socks and shoes when I came inside. I didn’t want to get the house dirty with stray pieces of grass.

  “It’s been awhile. What’s up?” Jason asked, reshuffling the cards.

  Jason dealt out two card piles. He leaned over to grab a bag of potato chips off the table, stuffing his face. He offered me some but I declined. I wasn’t hungry; I was too nervous.

  “How much has Damian told you in case I say something I’m not supposed to.”

  “That you needed a place to stay because your parents are gone. He didn’t go into detail. It wasn’t my place to know or ask. I’m just grateful that you made it out. You always were my favourite cousin.”

  “I’m your only cousin.”

  “Ah. That explains it then,” he said, flashing me a goofy grin. “Gin?”

  “The alcoholic kind?”

  “The card game, silly. You’re not even old enough to drink yet.”

  “What about you?”

  “Almost, three years to go. Know how to play?”

  “No.”

  “It’s cool. I’ll teach you if you’re game.”

  “Sure.”

  Jason spent the next few moments explaining how to play, giving me as many tips as he could. The first couple of games he helped me out, making sure he could see the cards in my hand to assist me. When I got the hang of it, we started to play properly. Although I had only learned how to play today, I wasn’t too shabby.

  We ended up sharing the bag of potato chips when my appetite came back. We got crumbs all over the couch. Jason swept up what he could and put the crumbs back into the empty bag so Jacqueline wouldn’t have a fit. She was a clean freak.

  When we got bored of gin, we switched to another card game, poker. He explained the best he could and helped me for the first few rounds. It was just friendly games, no poker chips, no money, just practising.

  Damian came home and he looked tired. His face was drained of life. His eyes were missing the deep blue ocean. He plopped down on the recliner chair across from us and put his feet up. He leaned back in the chair and closed his eyes, folding one arm across his chest. His other hand was resting against his forehead as he rubbed his temples.

  “Long day?” Jason asked.

  “Something like that. I hope you’re not teaching Joan bad gambling habits.” Damian sounded as tired as he looked. He didn’t bother opening his eyes to look at us. He was resting, trying to melt into the chair and forget the world.

  “Naw. Would I do that?” Jason replied innocently.

  “Wouldn’t put it past you. I know the kind of games you and Lorenzo get up to.”

  “D’aw, c’mon, dad. I wouldn’t.”

  “I hope you’re not talking about strip poker,” I muttered, arranging my cards to see if I had anything decent.

  Damian and Jason lost the plot, filling the living room with loud laughter. Damian’s exhaustion melted away. The laughter seemed to absorb his previous tired state, bringing him back to life. He sat up straight, his face and eyes filled with colour.

  “Classic, Joan. Classic,” Jason said in between laughs. “No, no. We just gamble.”

  “Your mother lets you?” I questioned with a raised eyebrow, folding my hand. I had nothing good. My cards were rubbish.

  “Jason is old enough to look after himself. Legally he’s an adult so anything stupid he does is his responsibility,” Damian said with a wave of his hand. “He just lives here because he would probably starve living on his own. Can’t cook to save himself.”

  I couldn’t help but giggle.

  “Hey! Just because I burned water that one time doesn’t mean I’m hopeless at cooking,” Jason retorted defensively.

  “How the hell do you burn water?” I asked, still giggling.

  “He’s special, Joan. Special,” Damian said, using air quotations.

  “I’ll make dinner tonight if you don’t believe me,” Jason declared.

  “Well you better raid the pantry and fridge to see what’s available. If you’ve eaten half the house out
like you always do, you’ll probably need to go grocery shopping. Take my car.” Damian threw Jason his car keys along with his wallet. “Have fun.”

  “Did you just trick me into cooking and grocery shopping?”

  Damian rung an imaginary bell, “Ding ding.”

  “I hate you,” Jason said, slipping off the couch. He left his cards behind. He picked up Damian’s keys and wallet. There was no going back now.

  “Love you too.” Damian winked.

  “Yeah, yeah,” Jason muttered, making his way towards the front door; he didn’t bother to check what was left in the kitchen. “Izzy, I’m going grocery shopping. Wanna come?”

  “Hell no,” she called out.

  “Please. I’ll buy you something nice.”

  “Bribery isn’t gonna work on me. Stop wasting your time.”

  “Not even a load of books to help you get into med school?”

  There was a short pause.

  “How many?” Isabelle asked. Jason had caught her interest.

  Jason popped his head around the corner to look at Damian for assistance.

  Damian helpfully shrugged, clearly stating you got into this on your own, don’t involve me.

  Jason shook his fist at Damian and stepped out of view.

  “Um. Five?” Jason called out.

  “Fifteen.”

  “Eight.”

  “Deal. If you break your promise, I’ll make your life a living hell.”

  “You already do,” Jason mumbled under his breath, not loud enough for Isabelle to hear, but we did.

  Damian and I snickered, barely able to contain our laughter. If we burst into hysterics, it was likely Jason would end up going on his own. It would be a shame to ruin it for him.

  “Why do you look so miserable?” Isabelle commented as she walked down the stairs; I could hear her footsteps.

  “Dad tricked me into cooking dinner and grocery shopping.”

  “That’s because you’re a bonehead. Let’s go.”

  Jason inhaled an exaggerating breath to calm down before he left. I wasn’t sure how he could tolerate his sister. I didn’t know what it was like to have siblings. I was an only child.

  “You just wanted them both out of the house, didn’t you?” I asked Damian when the door slammed and I heard the car outside start up.

  “Maybe,” Damian replied, sticking his tongue out. “Nothing of the sort. Jason needs to be more independent is all.”

  “You do realise he’s probably gonna buy a whole heap of junk food.”

  “He might surprise you.”

  “Wanna bet?”

  “I see his gambling habits are already rubbing off on you. Tsk tsk.”

  “Scaredy pants.”

  “Betting with a man who can see the future isn’t a bright idea, Joan.”

  He had a point.

  “So playing a game of cards with you isn’t a good idea, either?”

  “I can behave,” he promised, kicking down the recliner chair to join me on the couch.

  Damian took Jason’s old spot. He glanced inside the empty chip packet and huffed. I was a bit disappointed that they were all gone too. They were tasty.

  “Anything you want to talk about?” Damian asked, taking all the cards before shuffling them. He shuffled a lot better than Jason and was showing off, like a magician. Kind of ironic.

  “Do you know that the council are watching the house and keeping an eye on both of us?”

  “They’re afraid I’ll go nuclear. Give it a few weeks and they’ll find something better to do. They’ll only observe, unless Dane breaks his word.”

  “Alright,” I said with a pause. “I met Renée today.”

  “Oh? How’d that go?”

  “I’ve never seen Lorenzo so hostile.”

  “Heartbreak does that to a person. Let’s hope you don’t experience that firsthand.”

  “Nothing’s perfect. It will most likely happen. Besides, I’ve already experienced it. I lost my parents.”

  “Falling in love with someone and losing them is something different. Stop bringing up the death of your parents. It will only make you miserable. Think happy thoughts. You are alive and well, in a home filled with family who want to keep you safe. That is the only thing that matters.”

  “You know how I feel, Damian. I just can’t let this go.”

  “I know. I just wish you could find it in your heart to forgive. I don’t want revenge to turn you into a killer.”

  “My mind is made up. I’m not having it any other way. The agency needs to be taken care of since everyone else refuses to take action. I wasn’t the only one who lost people precious to me that night. How can you just sit here and do nothing?”

  Damian sighed and placed the shuffled deck down on the couch, not dealing out the cards. The tiredness from before came back, turning his ocean blue eyes into clear pools. His eyes became a mirror to his soul. I caught a glimpse of hardship, pain, loss, sadness, anger and hatred. Those emotions disappeared when he blinked. The mirror shattered and I was left staring at a passive mask.

  “I’ve already had a taste of revenge, darkness and madness. That didn’t end well for me. In order to maintain balance and avoid upsetting the council, I cannot do as I please. I would love nothing more than to make the agency burn for their crimes but my hands are tied. There was a time where I didn’t need to think about the consequences of my actions, how they would affect my loved ones, because I was alone. Now that I have a wife and three children, I can’t put them at risk. Revenge means nothing if I lose everything I hold dear in the process. That is why I sit here and do nothing. Do you understand that?”

  I nodded in response, not trusting the words that would come out of my mouth. Not only did his speech hit home, he had called me one of his children. Whether it had been a miscount or a slip of the tongue, I just didn’t have the courage to ask.

  I was his niece. I would always be his niece. But in that moment, he made the decision to classify me as one of his own children. That made all the anger and frustration melt away. I was just as precious to him as his own flesh and blood. He had adopted me without hesitation and kept me safe at a high cost. The only regret he seemed to have was unsuccessfully stopping me from making the decision to leave him behind. I felt incredibly guilty but I couldn’t pretend everything was okay.

  I needed to make the world a better place. If that meant leaving behind family to become someone capable of looking after herself, that was fine with me. Living here under Damian’s protection made me weak. I needed to be able to stand up for myself and fight.

  I would live in a normality bubble until Cyrus showed up. I would pretend everything was okay until Cyrus showed up. If doing that made Damian happy, then I would stop bringing up the things that hurt him. I needed to stop arguing with him. I didn’t want my last memories of him to be bad ones of us constantly fighting over the same thing. It wasn’t worth it, not when I knew our time together was limited. Cyrus would take me away from my loving uncle.

  “Yes, I understand. I’m sorry. I don’t know what it’s like protecting those who are most precious to me because I’ve always been alone. I don’t have any friends or siblings, and my parents are dead,” I paused to clear the emotional choke in my throat. “My parents raised me to be afraid of the agency. They didn’t raise me to be strong and confident. That’s why I want to change. I don’t have anything left to lose, Damian. The agency took everything from me.”

  “That’s not true. You still have me. You were never content with your way of living and now you have the chance to be free. Instead you choose to become locked in a dark pit of revenge.”

  “You’re entitled to your opinion but I don’t see it that way. This argument is going around in circles, Damian. Just accept the fact that I won’t change my mind. I’ve already accepted your views but that doesn’t mean I’m going to abide by them.”

  “Alright,” he breathed in defeat, grabbing the cards to deal out. “I see stubbornness runs in
the family.”

  “Lorenzo said I was just as stubborn as you are.”

  “That can’t be helped I’m afraid. It’s a good thing. Being stubborn means you won’t give up, not for anything, including your own survival. It’s a good trait to have, especially when the stakes are high.”

  “You can say that again.”

  My stomach growled. Apparently chips weren’t enough to fill me up.

  “Savoury pancakes sound good?” Damian asked.

  He had me at pancakes.

  “You betcha. Want a hand?”

  Damian shook his head and slipped off the couch. “No, it’s quite alright. Go have a quick shower while I’m cooking. You need one, smelly.”

  “I didn’t think it was that bad.”

  Damian pinched the bridge of his nose. “Pretty bad.”

  “You’re exaggerating.”

  “Maybe, maybe not,” he said, sticking out his tongue.

  Damian made his way to the kitchen without looking back, chuckling. I’m pretty sure the look on my face had been priceless, which is why he was laughing all the way to the kitchen.

  My legs were a little sore from running. I made a pretty good imitation of a penguin as I made my way towards the stairs. I did a few stretches to loosen the muscles. It helped and made it easier to walk up the steps. I hadn’t realised how sore I was since I had been sitting down. Now that I was moving, my legs were screaming in protest. I ignored them. If I jogged daily, they would get used to it.

  I grabbed some clean clothes to change into after I showered. There was no point changing back into sweaty ones afterwards.

  I didn’t need to turn the light on when I went into the bathroom. The sun was shining through the window, a blurred glass that only allowed sunlight through. I switched the fan on and locked the door, letting the water run hot.

  It wasn’t until I was out of my clothes that I realised how dirty the back of my singlet was. Leaves were plastered to the fabric, along with grass and dirt smears. I must have looked like a wild child.

  There was nothing more relaxing than feeling hot water pelting your skin, washing away everything it touched. If you closed your eyes, your mind automatically relaxed and wandered to a place of bliss. For once, I let myself wander. For a moment, I let myself forget everything, my parents’ death, wishing to become an assassin, magic... the things no one could ever imagine being real. Peace washed over me as the hot water flowed down my skin. Although it was temporary, it felt wonderful. I would stay in this bubble of bliss if the world allowed me to. I knew I couldn’t. I knew the things I would have to do in order to make this peaceful feeling permanent.

  I switched the water off and gathered my hair together to wring it out. I nudged the shower door open with my elbow and grabbed a towel to dry off. I was squeaky clean.

  I got changed, leaving my hair wrapped up in a towel. The hairbrush I bought during my shopping spree was in my room. I’d brush out my knots after I had something to eat. I was starving and wasn’t sure I had the energy to brush my hair without food.

  “Joan, pancakes are done,” Damian called up the stairs.

  “Coming,” I replied, making my way down the hall.

  “Better hurry up before I eat your share.”

  “You wouldn’t dare.”

  “When pancakes are involved, nothing stops me.”

  I tried to tackle Damian when I got to the last step and ended up falling over my own feet. He caught me before I hit the floor and steadied me, laughing quietly at my clumsiness.

  “Elegant, delicate in fact,” he commented, tone mocking.

  Damian let go of me when I could stand on my own. He made his way to the dining room; I followed after him.

  “Shut up. My legs are sore from sprinting after Lorenzo,” I muttered, sitting down at the table.

  The pancake covered the entire plate; it was a thin crepe. When I cut into it, melted cheese dribbled out. Sliced ham was also inside the pancake. It smelled delicious. I took a swig of orange juice before I started to eat.

  “A valiant effort if you caught him. He’s very fast.”

  “I did. I cut him off and tackled him down a hill,” I said, raising my fork to my lips.

  Oh my gosh. The pancake was heavenly and melted in my mouth. It was the most glorious creation I had ever eaten. Just how did Damian make it taste this good? I would live off these pancakes forever if I could.

  “So my cooking gets a pass?” Damian asked me, smiling as he cut into his own pancake.

  “Definitely. This is amazing.”

  “Maybe when we get a chance, I can teach you how to cook so you won’t starve.”

  “Sounds good.”

  “Be mindful that I won’t be giving away my secret recipes,” he said, tapping his nose. “These pancakes for example.”

  “Oh, come on. Don’t do that to me.”

  He laughed. “Kidding, kidding. I just wanted to see your reaction.”

  “You are so mean,” I said, scowling at him. “If you’re this amazing at cooking, what else are you good at?”

  “I draw and paint. Precision is what I’m most excellent at. I turned the attic into an art studio if you want to see. The window up there is large enough to let all the natural light through once you pull back the drapes.”

  “I have a very vivid image in my head of childlike finger painting.”

  Damian laughed and shook his head. “No, no. From abstract to realism. Depends what mood I’m in. Surely you saw some of my paintings at Lorenzo’s house?”

  I had a vague memory of bright abstract art, a smoky style, like clouds. I remembered gazing into an ocean of colourful fog. They were beautiful, like a hazy dream landscape brought to life.

  “Those were yours?”

  “Mmhm. I prefer realism. I capture a memory and bring it to life, sometimes putting my own unique spin on things. I can paint something of you if you’d like. We have plenty of time to spare.”

  “If you paint horns on my head, you’ll have another thing coming.”

  “I won’t. You’ll have to sit on a stool so I can use you as a reference.”

  “It will be nice to sit still for a while. I’ve been on the move far too much these last few days,” I said, finishing off the last of my pancake. “Let me blow dry my hair and brush it first before anything.”

  “I’ll go make the attic presentable, after I clean these dishes.”

  “No horns,” I reiterated, slipping off my chair.

  “No horns,” he agreed, taking my dirty dishes with him. “What about a tail?”

  “Absolutely not,” I replied in a yell, running up the steps.

  “You’re no fun, Joan. No fun at all.”

  I uncoiled the towel from my head and switched the hairdryer on when I got to the bathroom. I attached a brush to the end of the dryer so I could brush and dry my hair at the same time. Whoever invented that was a genius.

  Although my hair had recently been cut, there was still quite a lot of volume to it. Drying it took some time. I didn’t mind, not at all. I was too busy wondering how good of an artist Damian was when it came to realism. I had already seen his beautiful abstract paintings. He said he brought things to life. Did that mean his paintings looked like photos? Time would tell.

  When I was done, I found Damian out in the hallway, by the attic’s staircase. They were wooden steps that had dropped down from the roof. It was a stairway to heaven. The attic was gleaming with blinding doses of sunlight.

  “It’s as presentable as it’s going to get. Up you go. I’ve put the stool by the window.”

  “If there’s any spiders in there, I’m out.”

  “Big scary ones that will feast on your–”

  “Shut up,” I interrupted him, climbing up the steps. “You’re not fooling anyone.”

  “The spiders think it’s amusing.”

  “If any attack my face, you’re gonna be the one to suffer the consequences.”

  “Deal.”

  The atti
c was filled with canvases of different shapes and sizes covered by white drapes. I had expected the attic to have a dusty smell but despite the cluster of mess, Damian seemed to maintain the room. People had a habit of storing things away in the attic and never venturing in there again. There was hardly any dust or cobwebs. I was impressed.

  Paint splatters covered the drapes. Most of the colours were earthy tones, like a landscape, other were blue and white, maybe the sky or ocean. None of the paintings were visible. They were all hidden under drapes.

  Red paint splatters caught my eye; it was like dry blood. Damian caught my wrist when I went to uncover that particular painting.

  “Not that one,” he told me.

  “Why not?”

  Damian let go of my wrist when my fingers were no longer reaching for the drape. My hand fell to my side, an indication that I wasn’t going to try again. I didn’t want to give him an excuse to tackle me.

  “Not all my memories I’ve captured are pleasant. That one is nightmare fuel,” he murmured, wrapping an arm around my shoulder to lead me closer to the window. “I should have burned it.”

  The window was a large arch shape. White candles were dotted along the shelf. The glass was bare, the candles unlit. Sunlight streamed through the window. The glass had to be some form of crystal because rainbow gems glittered throughout the attic. It was beautiful. A mountain of cushions lay underneath the window, almost like a bed.

  Damian sat me down on the stool and positioned me the way he wanted, my back to the window. By the time he was done, my hair was evenly spread on both sides and my hands were pressed together like I was praying. I didn’t dare move when he had been so picky getting everything perfect.

  I was looking at the blank side of the medium sized canvas that was resting up against the easel. All I could see was Damian occasionally popping his head around the corner to study me before painting. I could hear the brush strokes, the squelch of paint, but couldn’t see his progress.

  It was sort of relaxing gazing off into space and letting my mind lose focus. I didn’t need to concentrate on anything. If I could fall asleep with my eyes open, I’d be doing that right now. My arms were starting to ache and tremble from being up in the air for too long. I lost track of time zoning out.

  “Why am I praying?” I asked.

  “You’ll see when I’m done.”

  I blew a strand of hair out of my face and waited patiently. I was hoping I wouldn’t have to sit in this same position for too long. My arms were beginning to ache.

  “You can relax your arms now but stay seated. I still need you.”

  A sense of relief washed over me when I dropped my arms to my side. There was no longer a strain after being in one position. My back was a little sore. I wasn’t used to sitting down on something without back support, which was kind of ironic considering I spent most of my time hunched on my bed doing research. Perhaps sitting up straight was the issue.

  “No slouching,” Damian scolded when I changed the way I was sitting; I sat up straight immediately. “Good.”

  “Slave driver.”

  “Clearly you haven’t met my wife properly,” he teased, laughing. “Go ahead and lie down on the cushions. You’ve given me enough to work with. No peeking.”

  “Yeah yeah,” I said with a yawn, slipping off the stool.

  I patted the cushions, fluffing a few before lying down. I made myself comfortable and let my eyes droop close.

  It was so warm up here and so calm. It felt like I was lying on a hot beach, listening to the waves lap the shore and sand hush across the surface. I had been to a beach before, a secluded one hardly anyone knew about. When you live a life of secrecy, finding your own slice of paradise was hard, but when you found it, it was pure bliss.

  “Finished.”

  Damian’s voice woke me. I didn’t realise I had dozed off. I could have sworn it had only been a few minutes. The cushions sticking to me as I tried to stand up said otherwise, as did the heaviness of my body.

  “How long was I out for?” I mumbled, peeling off the cushions.

  The sunlight in the room had turned into a rosy orange, the beginnings of a sunset.

  “A while. You looked so peaceful, I didn’t want to wake you.”

  “Fair enough. Let’s see this painting then.”

  “Come around and see for yourself.”

  I did and boy did my mouth hit the floor. I didn’t have the words to describe the utter perfection I was staring at. The painting was so lifelike. If I held out my hand to touch the portrait, I thought I’d be able to feel the rubber texture of leaves, the silkiness of flower petals, bark disintegrating in my hands. All I felt was the smoothness of paint. He had painted me as an angel, kneeling in a green forest filled with tropical flowers, praying. Stray feathers fell from my large white wings that curved inwards. The silver dress I was wearing sparkled in the sunlight that streamed through the trees. The forest was filled with butterflies of all different colours and sizes, frozen in time.

  “How did you do all of this without messing up the colour blend? Don’t you need to wait for it to dry?”

  “Magic, ma belle ange,” he said, kissing the top of my head. My beautiful angel. It was perfect, just like his painting.