Poison
Page 1
Contents
Chapter 1: Preface 2
Chapter 2: Open When Eighteen 5
Chapter 3: Morning Ride 13
Chapter 4: The Breakup 19
Chapter 5: Aldura 24
Chapter 6: Hello, I’m Genevieve 27
Chapter 7: Therius’s Return 29
Chapter 8: Get In The Car 32
Chapter 9: Return of the Princess 36
Chapter 10: Koi Pond 49
Chapter 11: I have seen him before 59
Chapter 12: The King’s Advice 68
Chapter 13: The Hunt for Aurora 90
Chapter 14: Peter 104
Chapter 15: Moonlit Ball 114
Chapter 16: After Hours 128
Chapter 17: Morning from Hell 134
Chapter 18: Before the Wedding 143
Chapter 19: Wedding Dash 146
Chapter 20: Medicine 156
Chapter 1: Preface
"...Desire is poison. It infects your soul and makes the sense God gave the green apple run away faster than I am sure your bride-to-be is about to..."
-Genevieve Grave
When Genevieve awoke on September 14th she had no clue that today would be the day she found herself. Now, granted, she was turning eighteen, so she thought something was bound to happen. She was thinking more along the lines of a surprise birthday party at Peter's house and less of a trip to another galaxy of where she happened to be the heir. Never in her wildest dreams had she thought that her life would be more than four walls of a cubical or the bars of a four by four cell with a tiny window just out of reach.
The only clue she had to the events that seemed to throw themselves at her commando boots was the differentiated paranormal dream that seemed to be her only real association from her past. It was a sweet remembrance of a world she could never quite grasp, of a man beckoning her to dance but then another stealing her away.
She was the hit of her mythical soiree and loving every minute of it. Until, of course, a man catches her gaze from across the ballroom, his ice blue eyes filled with unvoiced misery. He walks over and holds out his hand. Each night, even though she knows how the dream ends, she leaves the man with brown hair and beautiful grey eyes who holds her as if she were everything to him and takes the blue eyed man's hand without even a smidgen of remorse. They glided across the ballroom and it felt as if everyone was gone but them.
However, tonight something inside her changed. She refused to ask her normal question of what the man's name was. This always was followed by a kiss on the hand and an immediate awaking which left her with the feeling of dissatisfaction and restlessness each night. She instead asked him another question, one that she had always had on the back of her mind but never voiced since the first time she saw him in this very dream, so many years ago.
"Why are you so miserable? I mean, what do you have to be miserable about?" she asked, using perhaps too much moxie for her own good. I have one good question and I waste it on something as stupid as that, she thought bitterly.
"Because Genevieve, I know what I must do, what must be done, but with all my heart I refuse to do so." he answered cryptically. He looked so deeply into her eyes she was forced to look away. How maddeningly unhelpful, she thought.
"Alright, I'll bite." She mused, "What must you do?" she asked with a little less awe in her words and a little more impatience. Genevieve had never enjoyed it when people played out with her, using riddles to ramble around the point.
"Something that was meant to be done eighteen years ago," was his answer. She began to grow more impatient with every passing second. She suddenly stopped dancing and took off her black lace glove. She took off the white glove on his right hand and grabbed his exposed tanned hand, intertwining her fingers with his. A kind of spark went off inside her mind, making this silver chainlike spark wrap around their hands and tighten them together. She shook off the feeling that this had all happened before and spoke from her core.
"We always have a choice in our actions, always. Granted, the choice might not be easy, but it's yours, and you alone must make it," she declared as she looked deeply into his blue eyes. She clenched harder every time she said always, remembering what her best friend Peter had always told her.
"I wish I lived in your world Gen," he whispered. There was an overpowering sadness engrained in his seemingly cold words that made her step back, never taking her eyes off his "but unfortunately, there is nothing either of us can do to stop the changes that have already been set into motion."
He continued with a cold undertone, kissing her hand and letting it fall to her side once more. He bowed respectfully and turned to leave. She grabbed his arm and turned him with all of her force.
"Please, just tell me. What is your name?" she begged, still grasping his arm when now he was facing her once more. He smiled, a light, sad smile, as if remember something precious.
"You know, I will humor you, just this once." he answered, "But you mustn't forget it, no matter what. Remember, do you understand?" She wondered if his seemingly playful tone was a trap stalling until she would wake. She decided, today she would learn this man's name. It had plagued her for years, not knowing.
"All right, yes, I understand."
"Understand what?" he asked, now his smile was too big for this not to be some sort of joke.
"I understand that I can't forget you." He smiled with satisfaction, and then his face fell as if the words had done some sort of heinous spell on him.
"Acruz, Acruz Deveartae. You know, you really are an extraordinary girl. I look forward to seeing you," he lightly tapped her nose, "very soon." He reached to caress her face but as soon and his hand touched her cheek she flung her head up from the top bunk of bed and slammed into the ceiling.
She swore she heard "Happy birthday" hang in the air long after she sat there, staring at the wall, trying to calm her heaving chest. She grabbed the swinging watch that dangled from the ceiling in front of her face.
"6:03" she muttered, rubbing her thumb over the clock face and groaned when her first look at the watch was correct. "Jeez that's early," she muttered, not knowing that would be the least of her problems today.
Chapter 2: Open When Eighteen
Genevieve got down from her bunk as slowly as possible, trying not to slip on the third bar from the floor. When she got up from slipping on said third bar (as she did almost every morning) and cussed at it, she looked solemnly at the remains of her roommate, Sydney. Her bunk was cleared and her shelves bare. She looked down, kicking dust into the cracks of the decrepit floorboards. She shivered, and not from the cold New York City winter air that blew through the cracks around her ancient window that out looked a beautiful grime stained brick wall.
"Gotta' shake it off Gen," she told herself shaking her fingers and walking to her dresser. She glanced at her reflection."What a sharp chin bone you have, very "strong"" she announced to herself showing off her chin like it was a car. "High cheek bones, very"modelesque" Gen," she used a high pitch imitation of a fake British voice, somewhat like Debbie McCaughey, head cheerleader, A.K.A. skank supreme at Genevieve's high school, had used for four grueling years. She nodded, as if agreeing with the comment, and then scrunching her nose to one side. "Fat lips, very Angelina," she commented in her very best valley girl impression and smiled, then bit her lip. "Ugly, no, that's mean." she shook her head earnestly, "Now strong, that's Debbie Looove. Skinny gothic freak, that's coarse. Modelesque, that's a "complement."" she indicated using air quotes. "Complement my Aunt Fanny." she muttered and crouched down to pull her commando boots out from under her dresser. She went over to her poster board and looked at her favorite drawing.
"Acruz," she said in awe touching the lips of the drawing of the man she now knew to be Acruz Deveartae. "It fits you." she sai
d and wrote 'Acruz D.' under the picture.
"What should I wear today?" She put her hand behind her left ear close to the picture and nodded as if listening. "White and black fishnets and a Slipknot shirt, that's exactly what I was thinking. You always know what I want." She examined two different skirts and held them up to the picture next to Acruz. He was an altogether differently attractive man than Acruz, this man was her rock. This one had intense grey eyes and brown hair that fell in his eyes. She never got a name or a terribly good look at this other mystery guy, but she remembered those eyes. "How about you," she whispered, lightly tracing her fingertip across his eyes. "What do you think I should wear?" she smiled as she pictured him saying; "Nothing would do just fine".
"That's the last time I ask you." she shook her head and picked the shorter one. As she put on the skirt and stockings she looked a second time at the shirt.
It was red and black. I need a shirt that's white and black, she thought trivially. She got out her HIM shirt and put it on instead. She got out her skinny eyeliner stick and lined her eyes brushing a faint line underneath.
She then looked up and stroked mascara on both set of lashes until they looked full and vibrant. Then, she applied black eye shadow on the toping of her lids to her angled black eyebrows. She looked at herself. I forgot something, she thought tapping on her bottom lip. She stopped and felt her lip. "Lipstick," she said, pointing her finger in the air as the epiphany came to her. She got out a blood red stick and put it on.
She got her sweatband that said "the dark is afraid of me" and shoved it on her left arm.
She looked at her fingers, her nails where still black from last week when she used up the last of her nail polish and decided to use Sharpie instead. She finally sat on the ground and laced her commando boots with care. She tucked back her chest length straightened black hair behind her multiply pierced ear.
She left her room and walked down the hall and down the stairs and rested her arms and head on the front desk of the Fifth Street Adoption Agency. Ms. Crumm came from the lunchroom for the little ones to the front to face her.
"Hello sweetie," Ms. Crumm stood a mighty five foot four and came up to Genevieve's eyes. Her wrinkles were deep cannons in her pale face. Her silver hair was swept up into a loose bun with straight tendrils falling in front of her petite circular glasses. She wore a loose fitting peach dress with a drowsy floral design and white stockings with a line going up the side and brown altruistic shoes. Her light grey eyes were blank when she typed something into the computer and looked upon Genevieve for the first time with her absolute attention.
"Hello how are you doing Ms. Crumm?" she asked in the nicest voice she possessed.
"As good as any other day, where are you off to?"she answered in a sigh. She arched an eyebrow in question.
"Um…" Gen searched her brain for lie wouldn't care enough to question, "work…" she lied hesitantly, trying her best to leave out the question in her voice.
"Well you have a good time." Genevieve rolled her eyes and waved as she walked out the door into a chilly seven o'clock New York City morning.
…
An hour and half later she stood in front of a 7-11 on the "bad" side of town. She walked inside and stood in the back where the hot dogs were served. She closed her eyes, feeling the energy flow into her, as it always did when she did something morally wrong by her standards or those of the Agency. Justification time, I need cash and I need it bad. If I'm going to find my father I'm going to need a car, and to have a car I need money. I have no job, so this is my next means of bacon bringing. Now all I have to do is find a way to rob the thing without getting thrown in jail in the process.
Not even Genevieve could have really explained the events after she took in that gulp of air. Perhaps it was her mother that helped her to find the right word. Or maybe it was Acruz, the world may never know. When Gen took that huge gulp of air and whispered "Pause" and opened her eyes the world had stopped, literally. The pudgy red haired lady next to her, pouring a drink, was frozen in mid-pour, Dr. Pepper flooding over her hand and cup. The boy Genevieve had gone to High School with was manning the front was frozen taking change from a scruffy man with a beard. She stood there for a moment, trying to grasp what had just happened.
"Oh my, oh my God" shequavered, poking the woman apprehensively. Gen stepped back in a mixture of horror and disbelieve and then a thought occurred. "Is this what a sign from God looks like?" she asked no one, looking up, as if to the heavens. "Are you trying to tell me something? You want me to rob this Quickie Mart? Really?" she thundered arrogantly, "That's my major otherworldly moment?" I would have thought I would have at least gotten so sign to who I really am, not just some sick joke, or crazy dream. Although, if this is a dream why no rob the place, at least I will sharpen my lock picking skills. If this isn't a dream and something higher than me is really stopping the fabric of time in its tracks I might as well take advantage of their courtesy. Either way, I need the money.
She shook herself back into the real world and grabbed a Mountain Dew from the refrigerator and a chocolate moon pie from the stocked shelves and walked to the cash register. "Thank, you Robbie, you should have stayed in school babe." she joked in a sing-song voice, snatching the twenty out of the cashier's hand. She walked around the counter and wiggled her fingers and pressed open on the cash register. She took out all the money and change and picked up the holder and got the twenties and the hundred dollar bill the scruffy man had just given to him. Then she went to the other register and did the same thing but also retrieved a brown paper bag out of the back and put the money and other things inside. She looked at the surveillance camera; the red light signifying that recording was taking place was still beeping.
"So I can only stop people not things, the world is still moving but the people on it aren't. Well I hope the planes in this area are on auto pilot or I should being hearing a loud thud in a moment." She noted aloud, more or less because she could. She grabbed the shot gun that was under the counter, ironically labeled "in case of robbery", and let six bullets off in the basic direction of the camera basically just leaving the exposed wires and holder. Satisfied, she set down the gun on the table and strolled out of the door.
"Now for the problem of getting the world to play again." She could hear a thick Bronx accent yell "what the hell!"
"Guess that was it!" she surmised as she fast walked down the sidewalk until she turned the corner and broke into a run.
…
"Get off my lawn!" an old lady screeched from the second floor of her condo. Genevieve looked up and kept running. She jumped, putting her right hand on the fence to thrust herself over. She had been running for thirty minutes straight, but she had to press on. She was almost home. She looked back ever so often but kept running. She looked at the paper bag she clutched tightly in her right hand and examined the contents. All the money was there. She looked up and was greeted by a frying pan to the face. Damn that lady runs fast, she thought. In a retrospective moment, I probably should have been looking up, rather than counting my loot whilst trespassing.
"Holy crap, lady! I think you just broke my nose!" Gen screamed feeling her cheek that had become warm. She looked at her fingers that were covered in blood. She felt her cheek again and could only smear blood, not find were it had leaked.
"Damn Satanist!" The lady said holding up a canister of pepper spray. Gen looked up, shaking her head in pain.
"What the hell lady?" she screamed, feeling her nose.
"Burn in hell you, you, you, hater of God!" she looked at the lady like she was crazy, mostly because it was indeed a correct assumption to be made. She assessed she should leave, without hesitation.
"You are crazy lady! Have you taken your medicine?" Gen shook her head and started to walk away but the lady held up the pepper spray and Gen stopped in her tracks. She held up her hands in surrender but it was too late. The rip in her nose immediately started to heal itself. She reached with her free arm and
snapped her nose back into place.
"Ouch" she whimpered in pain. The little old lady fainted and she threw a twenty on her and kept running. She could hear sirens but this was New York. There are always sirens. But those might be for me, she thought. With that she knew she needed to hide from the fuzz on a count a, a Goth girl would sure as hell stick out in a line up. Especially with old lady 'get off my lawn' spills the beans about my rejuvenating "personality" all they have to do is hit my knee with a hammer and watch it mend itself and I'm busted for robbery and a new test subject for the rest of my orphaned life, and I mean, what the hell was that anyways? I've never broken my nose but I doubt that it can snap back with no residual pain. She thought cynically, I have no parents or anyone to find me or notice I was gone. I'm sure the adoption agency wouldn't care if I just vanished. It would probably be good with an extra bed for someone who would actually show up for their interviews, she finished. She ran into an alley five blocks away from old lady 'get off my lawn'. She breathed a deep breath in, then immediately coughed from a reeking smell, and swayed her head to her right dramatically. A reeking hobo crouched, picking through a tuna fish can. Who knows what I just breathed in? Not to mention how many diseases he must have had crawling through his clothes, she thought.