by K L Rymer
I would be meeting Eli’s father. The head of a billion dollar corporation. He was a very important man, so of course, I was nervous.
The last thing I wanted to do was make him think that his son was engaged to a commoner. I may not be privileged, but I’m still noble at heart. I had a lot to offer, and all that mattered was that I made his son happy. That should be enough.
Misaki loaned me one of her business suits: a black blazer, a pencil skirt, and a white cream blouse. A black necktie ties around the neck in the style of a loose bow, and I’ve never looked so smart.
She calls it the ‘conservative’ look.
Next, she ties my hair up in a stylish bun, then applies a thin layer of makeup to my face. My lips are nude, and there’s mascara on my eyes, but even then she’s done spectacular work.
It’s all expensive makeup, the stuff model’s wear on the runaway. Not your average drugstore brands.
Only when she hands me a pair of black court shoes, I deny.
“Oh, no. I don’t do heels.”
She raises one of those beautifully shaped brows. “But they’re only three inch. Besides, I bought them just for you. It took me ages to get a pair so small. They seldom do these shoes in children’s sizes.”
I blush, embarrassed. I have frightfully small feet, and always have to buy children’s sizes.
I shake my head. “And I’m grateful, Misaki, but trust me. I won’t be able to make it three steps in those.”
I remember all the other times I tried to walk in heels, namely at my high school graduation ceremony. I’d got so nervous, I tripped all the way down the stairs and sprained my ankle, and I vowed to never wear a pair again.
Misaki shrugs then chucks them aside. “Fair enough. Do you at least have flats?”
I bring them out, and I can see she’s seldom impressed. I bought them off the high street for about £25. Not too cheap, but in the eyes of someone like Misaki...
“Suppose they’ll do,” she says.
So I slip them on and turn around in the mirror. If I was going for an interview, I’d have definitely got the job.
But this was to meet Eli’s father, and my throat closes up. I can’t even swallow. Maybe the bow’s too tight around my neck.
Eli enters the room, wearing a plain black suit and tie. No eccentric cravat. He’s still so handsome, yet he’s lost his signature style.
His father must be a black tie only person.
Misaki, however, still wears her top hat. That girl dresses only to impress herself, and I respect that.
“We ready to leave...?” Eli falters as his eyes fall on me, or my butt more specifically. The black pencil skirt perfectly accentuates my hips, and I give a smirk.
I didn’t even know I had a bubble-butt until I put on that skirt, and I feel so sexy.
Thank you, Misaki.
“Her face is up here, Eli?” Misaki says next, pointing to my cheek.
Eli shakes his head and pulls on his tie, and I see he’s sweating. “Car’s waiting outside,” he mutters, sweeping out the room.
Giles takes our luggage and follows down after us. I see the poor man struggles and I’m eager to ask if he needs help, but I know that would be improper.
As we leave through the door, I see Olga. She raises her brows as if telling me to remember her warning, and I stare horrified.
I’d concluded she was a little crazy in the end, but it was still worth taking on board what she said.
James takes the luggage from Giles and packs them into the trunk of the car. Though I guess that would be boot, since we’re in the UK.
I sit between Eli and Misaki as we pull away from the house, and at once I feel like an ugly duckling. Compared to them I feel so plain, and I realise that was something I had to work on, especially as I was marrying into this family.
I didn’t want to feel inadequate for the rest of my life.
Eli gazes out the window beside me, his face ashen. He hasn’t looked my way since he saw me in the pencil skirt, and I wonder if he’s still aroused.
I go to ask him if he’s okay until Misaki interrupts. “I’ve already done the honours of picking your bridesmaids. They’re friends of mine, you’ll love them.”
I hear Eli sigh beside me and glance his way. He’s rolling his eyes. I’m guessing he’s not a fan of her friends then.
It’s just as well. I don’t know anyone else in London who can be my bridesmaid. Well, apart from Babs.
Oh, Fudge, I forgot to call her!
I’d initially texted her when Eli and I first got engaged, but I’d totally forgotten to tell her about the part where we jumped up the wedding date to this week. She’d be furious if she knew she was missing out on this.
“Wait, I haven’t told my friend Babs. I must call her.”
Eli and Misaki share an ominous look then, and I watch them curiously. “What’s wrong?”
My husband-to-be finally looks my way. “It’s best you don’t tell anyone where you’re going.”
My brows crease. “Why?”
He glances towards Misaki and she clears her throat. “Outsiders aren’t allowed in the Black compound, sweetheart.”
“But what about your friends? Are they not outsiders?” I ask.
“No. They’ve all signed contracts to never reveal the location of the estate. The paperwork would take weeks to complete. I’m sorry, Crystal, but your friend Babs can’t come.”
I turn to Eli. “Babs has been like a mother to me. I wouldn’t want her to miss my wedding.”
His stoic expression cracks, and I see he’s hiding something. Something he can’t or refuses to tell me.
I don’t get an answer. So I sit back in my seat, my heart shattering to pieces. I can’t believe I won’t get to have my London mom and best friend at my wedding.
If it weren’t for her, I’d be living out on the streets.
Stray tears escape my eyes as I wipe my face, trying not to let them see me crying.
Eli finally looks away from me, gazing forlornly out the window. He doesn’t say anything for the rest of the drive.
I feel Misaki’s hand on my knee next and I turn her way. “Don’t worry. You’ll have me, sweet Crystal. I’ll be your new best friend.”
She gives that dashing grin.
I feign a smile.
Suppose I will still have Eli too.
WE PASS GREEN FIELDS, tall hedgerows, and endless farmland, and the sights are so spectacular.
I’d heard the English countryside was exquisite, but wow... We almost crashed into a deer as it jumped out across the road, but James maintained his calm.
We drive down narrow country lanes, and I wonder how the large city car will even fit down those one-track roads. There are sharp bends, slow-going tractors, and men herding sheep.
Eventually, we pass through a sweet little village with a small chapel and old country cottages, and I smile.
It’s so different from the hustle and bustle of London. People stop and wave as we pass, and I can’t believe how much friendlier they are too.
I wave to an adorable little family. The children all have matching rain boots, and I gush. So cute.
I turn to Eli. He barely pays the villagers any heed. In fact, he just continues to glower out the window, his nose pressed so close, he’s fogging the glass.
He’s avoiding me.
However, the scenery soon changes. We drive down a long, narrow road, overgrown with ominous trees, and I shudder.
Why had it suddenly grown cold?
We’ve been driving for two and a half hours, but somehow I know we have arrived at the Black Estate.
We finally pass through the maze of overgrown trees, and I draw a loud gasp.
A huge stately home spreads out before me, the most sinister thing I’ve ever laid eyes on. Whereas I expected beauty and lush green gardens, I find Dracula’s castle. It’s stark with large black towers that seem to block out the sun, and my heart quakes.
Even the weather appears
to have changed. A permanent raincloud hovers above the home, and my body fills with dread.
I wriggle in my seat, and Misaki turns my way. “Not exactly a fairy tale castle I’m afraid, but you should soon feel right at home.”
I give a good-natured smile. “No, it’s... it’s lovely. I can’t wait to see inside.”
Misaki watches me for a while, a strange smirk growing over her perfect lips.
The car pulls up to a set of stark black gates. A sombre guard lets us in as soon as he spots Eli and Misaki.
Misaki takes my phone then.
“No phone beyond this point,” she says, handing it to the guard.
I’m too taken aback as to why they took my phone, until I feel it, a strange, foreboding energy that surrounds the house as we enter through the gates, and suddenly I can’t breathe.
We soon stop outside the house and before he heads out the car, Eli places a tentative hand on my thigh. When I meet his eyes, they are conflicted once again, and we gaze at each other for a while.
But then his face hardens into a terrifying, stoic mask, and then he climbs out the car, leaving me inside speechless.
That was not the same man I lovingly had breakfast beside that morning. Something seems to have taken over him, something sinister, and I gulp, wondering for a minute if all this was a mistake.
“Crystal? We’re waiting.”
I flinch at the sound of Misaki’s voice then climb out the car, my legs trembling. Eli once again doesn’t meet my gaze as he marches up to the house.
Misaki puts her arm around my shoulder and leads me up to the steps, and that’s when I spot the short, frightening man inside the large mahogany doorway.
Eli is nothing like his father.
This man sports a fierce underbite, floppy jowls, and a drooping pair of eyes. And he’s completely bald, his toupee barely hiding his smooth scalp.
My stomach clenches when he glances my way, and I lean in close to Misaki.
I just know there’s something wrong about that man, and my first instinct is to run back to the car and hide, yet I stay put.
Then he speaks, and my little heart tears in two.
“So, this is your new little plaything?”
15. Eli
I glare at my father.
Who the fuck does he think he is? If he keeps looking at Crystal like she’s a piece of shit, I will gladly rip off his ugly face.
I don’t even have to look at the poor girl to know her already sensitive ego’s bruised. She even whimpers slightly, holding on to Misaki for moral support.
How I wish I could be that for her instead. But I can’t. The moment we got in the car and left London, I knew our short romance was over.
Crystal would go on hating me now for the rest of her life.
I’d never even let my father privy on my plans. I don’t tell him a damn thing. Years ago, he only knew about my life from what he saw in the media, the screw-up son of the billionaire businessman.
That was the only glimpse he ever got into my life, and it makes me laugh. If only he had called, he may have really known what was going on. Like the time I tried to take my own life a few short days after my 21st birthday.
I’d been depressed, and not having my mother around on such a milestone birthday, it was hard. Plus, I had just come into my powers, and they were doing all kinds of fucked up shit to my brain.
I’m surprised I even made it out alive.
That was when all the benders started. Anything to numb the pain.
No, this little vendetta against White was my own. My father could give two fucks about avenging my mother because he never gave a crap about her anyway. She was just a means of producing an heir, and what a disappointment that heir had been.
Once White knows that his enemy’s son has his sole heir to his heritage, he will rain terror down on the Black family once again, and I will finish him off for good.
He renounced piece between our families the day he decided to kill my mother. My dad had been doing shoddy business as usual, one that resulted in the loss of countless species, and White had come to apprehend him. They fought, and she lost her life.
Our families had made a proclamation of peace about a century ago, but when one of us steps out of line, the other has the right to oppose them. But White took it too far.
There’s little evidence of their war on the estate, but a few tell-tale scorch signs leave a harsh reminder. Father got the roof fixed and the massive hole in the east wing, but nothing could fix my broken eight-year-old heart.
Crystal wasn’t even born yet when it all happened. So it almost seems unfair. She couldn’t help what family she was born into any more than I could.
In fact, if her older sister hadn’t died, I would have tried to move in on her, but she was too protected by White’s men. Freya and I had been the same age, born the same year, but we barely crossed paths. Though I did see her once trashing a club in London with her long black locks, spouting some hippy shit about renouncing all evil with her cult. Before I could get to her though, the bouncers kicked her out, and that was when I last saw her.
Then she died not long after. It was her own fault. Being too reckless in her pointless activism.
Crystal was different. She truly was the purest of the White bunch, and she didn’t deserve any of it. And I know that. But I still went through with my plan.
And the regret seeps into every atom of my miserable existence.
I deserve to rot.
My father fixes me with a cold stare. “Well? Aren’t you going to introduce me, boy?”
I grind my teeth, clicking my jaw. “Crystal, come here.”
She steps up beside me, her entire body trembling with nerves, and all I want to do is reach my hand down and protect her from the world, but I keep my distance.
I see my father assessing her, and I know he’s disappointed. Again, I want to peel the skin off his fucking face.
“Look at me, girl,” he snarls.
Crystal lifts her chin and meets his eyes, and he grimaces.
She reeks of blessed power, and for a moment I think our cover’s blown and he may have realised who she is.
But my father’s not that smart, see. He has a good head for business, but not for common sense. His little brain will be mulling over for hours now where he recognises that sweet, perfect scent.
Let’s just hope he doesn’t realise until the deed’s done, and I can send Crystal off back to the states.
I was never going to let her stay in the UK after all this was over (I can enrol her in a similar college in her home state with a comparable degree). It was the safest option.
Besides, it would make it much easier to get over her if there’s a large body of water keeping us apart.
But it still wouldn’t be big enough. Not even the entire span of the universe would suffice.
Father grunts like the bulldog he is next then marches back inside the house, and I feel Crystal’s entire body deflate.
I look down at her.
She keeps her eyes on the ground, too afraid to meet my gaze. Gently, I place a hand against the small of her back, and she flinches at my touch. Then I lead her up the stairs.
As soon as we step inside, I feel my spirits shrink.
It’s as miserable as I remember.
The interior of the house is all gothic Victorian, like something out of a Tim Burton movie.
The tiles are polished black granite as a set of spiral stairs leads to the next floor. Demonic-like creatures writhe around the bannister, and Crystal gawks in horror.
All around there are hellish statues watching us from dark crevices, and I feel her tremble.
A vase of dead flowers sits on a table in the centre foyer, and she can’t take her eyes off them.
Most life forms don’t last long in the Black Mansion. The reason I never had any pets.
Though we did have a cat, Mister Whiskers, and he managed for a while until the chauffeur ran him over. His death was mo
re of a freak accident than anything else.
Misaki steps up beside us, her long, thin heels clicking against the granite. “Charming isn’t it, Crystal?”
“It’s... it’s lovely,” she lies through her teeth, and I stare down at her.
She chews on the inside of her cheek and I sigh, leading her into the front room.
Father sits at his chair before the fire. There’s tea waiting on a table, and I usher Crystal forward and set her down on a small settee. Misaki drops into the chair opposite my father, a big smile on her face. Then she helps herself to tea, pouring into one of the dainty little china cups.
“Would you like some tea?” I ask Crystal.
She blinks at the teapot. “Um...”
Fortunately, Misaki pours tea inside another cup and passes it to her.
My father, however, helps himself to a glass of scotch from a decanter, glaring at Crystal from the corner of his eye.
Me, I’m not thirsty.
Crystal’s cup rattles over her saucer, and I lay a hand down on her wrist to steady her arm lest she scolds herself.
“Thank you,” she whispers, taking a small sip.
Her eyes rove over the room, and I follow her gaze. She gives a little gasp once she spots the large family portrait.
I asses my seven-year-old self. You could already tell at that age I was disturbed. For one, I was able to stand still the entire time the artist painted us.
How many seven-year-olds can wait that long?
Though I do look bored out of my mind, but that’s because I’d always been so emotionless and monotone.
I have on a grey vest suit and smart trousers. My father wears a black business suit, glaring at the painter as if daring to portray him as anything other than handsome.
And that’s what the painter did. Gone was the bulldog face, and now my father glows like a Calvin Klein model.
Misaki and her father, Roger, are there too, and her mother, Keiko. Uncle Roger’s a much better-looking version of my father, and I always did prefer him. Too bad he moved to Dubai; he used to be a really good laugh, and was always up for a game of poker.
Auntie Keiko’s long black hair is pulled back as she gazes at the painter sadly. She was a sweet woman and extremely polite and shared my fondness for cleanliness.