by Danae Ayusso
Without effort, he knocks the walls down, and his touch doesn’t cause me to freak out, no anxiety attack, no random feelings of anger and rage that causes me to swing on the first outlet within reach…
I haven’t really hit Draven out of anger or rage from him violating my space. It was because he annoys the hell out of me, on purpose apparently, so it was worthy of the beatings he’s gotten today.
“Are you sleeping?” he asked with the unmistakable sound of a smile in his voice.
I couldn’t help it; I smiled.
“Yes, leave me alone,” I said, leaning back against his strong form. “I’m comfortable.”
Draven rested his head against mine and wrapped his arms around my waist and held me tight. “When you’re ready, let me know. We can finish talking then.”
Absently I nodded and wrapped my arms behind him and rested my hands on his firm backside.
“Someone’s an ass woman,” Draven commented with a chuckle.
“Yes, yes I am. With an ass like that, how could I not?” I retorted, causing him to chuckle. “Justice has always had a thing for dark skin, light eyes, and round asses. That could be why she doesn’t like you,” I said.
He nodded. “Does that bother you?”
“That she doesn’t like you?”
“Oui.”
I chuckled. “Not at all. Though, if you must know, she’s irritating me because of the father-daughter time she’s been spending with Price.”
Again, Draven nodded. “You have no control over her, do you?”
“No, not anymore.”
“What do you mean?” he pressed.
Self-therapy session time.
I opened my eyes and looked around.
It looked as if we were in an old, abandoned church.
The wood floors were covered with dried leaves and dirt, wooden pews were knocked over and littered all about, stained glass windows were surprisingly intact and the sun was passing through the glass, painting the faded wood walls and floor in rainbows of light.
“Where are we?” I asked.
Draven shrugged, looking around as I was, as if it was the first time he had been in there. “The chapel on the far side of the cemetery. I come here when I want to be alone but not alone. The cemetery is full of quiet company,” he explained, and I snorted. “The chapel is sealed from the outside. Marian, my uncle and Christian’s father, built it with Price and the others as a gift to his wife. They were married in it when he was barely a man by today’s standards,” he explained. “When his wife died, Marian was never the same. He sealed up the chapel, the last piece of his wife he had, and within its dormant walls he left his heart.”
That’s sweet and strangely messed up.
“Di’s daughter?” I asked.
He shook his head. “This is a reliquary for Anya, Marian’s first wife and only love.”
Draven motioned to the front of the small chapel where a marble elevated casket, adorned with the faces of two cherubim on the side I could see, sat. The sun coming through the stained glass painted it in rainbows of light, making it look almost whimsical in a depressing, dark Tim Burton way. I hadn’t realized it was a casket at first glance, I thought it was merely beautiful stonework depicting loss and the belief of angels guiding those we lost to the light of paradise.
The truth was much more depressing than fairy tales of an after light were.
“Christian’s mother was Marian’s attempt at moving on with his life. She died of cancer when the twins were six, and it was a disaster in every meaning of the term. Marian had attempted to move on, to love again, and it only ended in heartache. Love truly is a futile endeavor for the damned.”
Most of what he said made sense and it mirrored my opinion on love and the futility of it. However, the damned part required an explanation. I also know that Draven didn’t mean to say the latter, and since he slipped up as he did, I would have to tread lightly to get the information I want from him.
Reluctantly, I removed my arms from around his waist before pushing his from around me.
Of course, Draven whimpered and groaned under his breath like a pouting child.
He did that over the summer as well if he didn’t get his way.
I headed over to one of the pews and picked it up then dusted it off before sitting.
“In Philly,” I said, continuing the self-therapy, and pulled my knees to my chest and hugged them, “I didn’t have good control over Justice, but I had enough, I thought. The older I got, the more and more she surfaced for some reason.”
Draven sat on the pew in front of mine and turned to face me.
“When I was a child,” I struggled to explain, “Justice was the one that ushered me to the safe place in our mind. When bad things happened to us, she took it. I knew what happened, I felt it, had waking nightmares from it, the haunting images and sensations that I couldn’t shake… Their heated, alcohol saturated breath on my skin, their hands and…” I shook my head, my bottom lip trembling. “But Justice was the one that was on the receiving end of it. Justice tried to hide me away from it, as if she was protecting me somehow.
“Then when we got to Anaconda, the moment the train pulled in, crossed the city line I suppose, she seemingly took shape. It’s hard to explain. She never had a name before, and she informed me it was Justice when we got here. Then, instead of fighting me, she was there talking to me, arguing with me, fighting with me in a way that only we can, but she was there, almost as if she isn’t in my head but she’s stuck in my head… Does that make sense?”
Draven nodded his understanding. “That’s when the lapses in time and conversations started?” he surmised.
I nodded. “I didn’t know at first. It wasn’t until Price said something to me, some type of inside joke that he had to explain to me before he started to get concerned that I didn’t know what he was talking about. That’s when I realized, and so did Price, that it wasn’t me. The inside joke he had was with Justice, the conversations and bonding time they were having together, before I even had that type of bonding time with him, was her. She was keeping it from me, and then when she finally told me, because she had to after Price threw her under the bus in essence, she… I don’t know. They know, now, when Justice is in control and when I am. I don’t know what to do and I don’t know how to stop her. She didn’t start, not like this, until we got here.”
Saying it aloud, what I would have talked to my delusion about in my self-therapy time if he hadn’t abandoned me, caused more questions than answers.
Draven pulled his hands over his face. “Justice is your protector, always has been, right?”
I nodded.
“You don’t need her in that sense here,” he speculated, as he had done when acting as my self-therapy. “And because of that, she is taking on a different role. One that is more of a companion-”
“A sister,” I corrected. “I never noticed it until she changed and I saw how Price and Simian, Cinder Dick, even Nick, all interact. They are brothers, family. They bicker how Justice and I do, they tease and flip each other shit, but they are protective of each other. That’s exactly how Justice is now, how she might have always been if she weren’t being subjected to… I really wish you wouldn’t have abandoned me.”
He chuckled, once, humorlessly. “And I really wish I would have gotten to the station for the earlier train,” he retorted.
That makes two of us.
Neither of us said anything, there wasn’t anything to say really.
When Draven got that look on his face, I learned quickly, it meant he was trying to organize his thoughts. If he didn’t, he’d attack in the only way he knew how: by hurting the person before running like a coward.
Amusingly enough, we have that in common.
“You seemingly appear and disappear,” I whispered, breaking the silence, and he looked at me. “The woods were moving around you the first time I saw you, or you were moving around them, or moved them around me. How do you do that?
How is that even possible? Are you a wizard?” I asked, suspicious. “I don’t see glasses and a scar from he that shall not be named, but you remind me of the type that’d play with his wand when no one’s looking.”
Draven chuckled. “We’re not wizards,” he confirmed. “And I haven’t had to play with my wand when no one’s looking since I was thirteen. Are you offering?”
“I’d rather cut my hands off than put them anywhere near Winnie the Cock,” I informed him.
“Ouch, that hurts,” he pouted, wiping away a pretend tear.
“I thought the damned were vampires,” I said, ignoring his childish quip and invitation.
Again, he chuckled. “Hollywood. Not all that are damned are immortal or survive on the blood of the innocent, the souls of the meek or the in the flesh of those they harvest so they can simply exist. The Simoeau bloodline are what the Romans called Lares. However, they aren’t exactly textbook lares. It’s one of those lovely misconceptions of Hollywood, modern society, and translation.”
I hadn’t heard of those before.
“And they are what, exactly?” I asked since he was seemingly waiting for me to.
“They are spirits that go from body to body, taking them over and eventually the body loses all of its biological characteristics and turns into the original form of the soul inhabiting it,” he explained, gauging my response to that information.
“You just said,” I started to argue.
“I said skin, not body. They aren’t skin walkers,” he said in the smuggest tone I’ve ever heard. “Lares are tied to a house, family, land, person… It varies depending on the lares. In the case of your bloodline, they are tied to land. Deer Lodge County used to belong to the Simoeau and Van Zul clans, at least at the time it was, and that’s why members from each tree live throughout the county and just not at the homesteads that the household heads reside at.”
What the…
There’s a part of me that is hoping, praying even though I’m not religious, that Draven is messing with me because he can. Sadly, I know he’s telling the truth. He’s being more forthcoming than anyone else had been so far, not that I really pressed them for information…
A normal person would have.
“Why lares? Simoeau is a French surname, not Greek. There aren’t Greeks in the family tree that I don’t know about are there?”
He shook his head. “Your family tree is French on your grandfather’s side and Swedish on your grandmother’s. What your mother was, however, is unknown, not that her nationality mattered in this case. When it comes to what we are, it’s more than geographically or culturally tied. Lares are together as a unit, in this case a family. Most spirits or souls are cursed to individually roam or haunt something or they haunt whatever they want because they are vengeful spirits or apparitions.”
Is he saying my father and the others are ghosts?
“We’re ghosts?” I asked, giving him a look.
Draven reached across the aisle and caressed the backs of his fingers across my cheek. “If we were, you wouldn’t have felt that or be blushing as you are from my touch.”
I pulled away from him. “I’ve never seen anyone in my family disappear and reappear as you do,” I argued.
“Because we aren’t lares. The Van Zuls are Larvae, and are more playful and mischievous in nature, so we tend to have a heightened level of spirited gást traits at our disposal.”
“I don’t understand,” I admitted, irritated that I’m not the smartest person in the room when it pertained to the subject.
He gave me an apologetic shrug. “I can’t get specific without telling you more than Price would like at the moment. I wasn’t supposed to tell you what I have.”
“And yet you did,” I said.
“I did,” he agreed.
I eyed him, suspicious. “Why? Are you rebelling or something?”
Draven chuckled and pressed his finger against the tip of my nose so I swatted his hand away.
“That wasn’t an answer,” I dryly informed him.
He leaned across the aisle and smiled. “Exactly,” he whispered before pressing his lips against mine before everything went black.
I have to be imagining things.
Draven Van Zul did not just kiss me.
Well, it wasn’t really a kiss. It was a peck, if anything. Not intimate, was almost teasing, and it was nice…
Shit. It was nice?
Where’s Justice when I need her?!
“Is everything well?” Draven asked.
No, not in the least.
I blinked rapidly, trying to clear my vision.
“For now,” Price said, and I jumped, startled.
When my eyes focused, I looked where Draven was and instantly stepped away from him.
Price was standing with two horses—Pony and Moonshine—and offered a small smile.
“Hey, Dad. Is everything okay?” I asked, totally cool and collected, as if he didn’t just see his daughter pop out of thin air with the lips of the son of his archenemy pressed against hers.
A smile filled Price’s face. “I’ll never get tired of you hearing you call me that,” he said.
Of course, I blushed, embarrassed.
“I’ll leave you two at it,” Draven said.
Price nodded. “Thank you, Draven. Your mother requested… Soren is in a mood, for obvious reasons, and Gérard and Dannette are addressing in it.”
Draven shook his head, looking to the darkening sky.
“It’s getting dark,” Price warned. “La parfaite valeur est de faire sans témoin ce qu’on serait capable de faire devant tout le monde,” he reminded him.
“Don d'ennemi c'est malencontreux,” Draven retorted with a snarl, his eyes black.
For some reason, Price chuckled. “Get going,” he said and Draven was gone in a blur of movement.
For some reason I feel like the third wheel between my man whore and my father.
I seriously don’t like that French fuck.
No one asked you.
“You ready?” Price asked.
I shook my head. “Of course!” I beamed.
“Really?” I complained.
That’s what you get.
“Girls, no fighting,” Price scolded with a chuckle.
Of course, we huffed, pouting.
Justice always does when Price calls us out when bickering because I’m his favorite.
Are not!
“I’ll help you get in the saddle,” he said, waving us over to Moonshine. “He’ll be good… I hope. I was going to bring The Silver Surfer, but Moonshine wouldn’t hear of it… That is the last time I let Simian name a horse when he’s been drinking.”
I giggled.
After three attempts, I was finally in the saddle and with the reins in hand.
Screw this. I’m walking.
Shut up. It’s a horse… A huge animal and could kill us at any moment with very little effort.
“Trust the horse,” Price said, effortlessly pulling himself up in his saddle. “Pony will lead and Moonshine will follow. If you need to stop, pull back like this,” he instructed, pulling the reins in his hands back. “To lead him left pull the left, to lead him right pull on the right. You don’t have to jerk hard; he’s broke. He’ll know what you want to do and where to go with a little prodding.”
I nodded.
Price chuckled then clicked his tongue and his horse started walking through the cemetery, following a cut path through the tombstones and Moonshine followed.
We’re going to die. We’re going to die. We’re going to die.
Calm down. It’s not that bad. It’s like riding Blue Boy’s back .
No it isn’t… Okay, it is, but this thing is going to kill us!
Moonshine shook his head, snorting.
“See, told you he isn’t going to kill us,” I smugly said.
Price chuckled. “Justice isn’t caring for horseback riding, is she?” he asked.
I shook my head.
>
“Your backside will be sore, so will your inner thighs, but you’ll get used to it,” he said then clicked his tongue.
Moonshine galloped and I squeaked in surprise, before resuming the slower pace at Price’s side.
“Relax,” Price scolded. “You’re making him nervous because you’re stiff and holding his reins too tight.”
“Daddy, if I die I will haunt the shit out of you!”
He chuckled, shaking his head. “Justice, you’re not going to die, I promise. Never will I let something kill or hurt you, either of you. If you master your horseback riding fear, you can move on to the ATVs and dirt bikes that the boys have in the outbuilding. Then, when Mikhail is ready, we can move onto teaching you to drive.”
I made a face. “I’m here,” I said. “She’s sharing you this time.”
Price nodded his understanding.
Glad he understood that since I don’t.
I get it so shut it! If you turn into the control freak, have to know-it-all genius bitch, I’ll shut you out as you’ve been shutting me out when you’re with your French fuck. Only I won’t tell you this time.
“You bitch! You wouldn’t.”
Oh yes, I would. Besides, we’ve never played on anything motorized before, especially something under our control. It sounds like fun!
“No, it sounds dangerous for the people and wildlife of Anaconda,” I corrected and she giggled.
Price chuckled under his breath. “Justice wants to play on the toys with the boys, huh?” he surmised.
Damn, Daddy knows me so well! I told you I was his favorite.
“You are not his favorite,” I shot back. “And yes, we were. You’ve both seen me attempt to walk before, right?” I asked. “Putting me behind the wheel of something motorized will not end well for the people of Anaconda, or the local wildlife.”
Of course he laughed.
“Warning acknowledged, but I have faith in you, Mikhail. If Justice wants to give it a try, it isn’t something you should keep her from trying, just as she shouldn’t try to stop you from enjoying life.”
I made a face. “You do realize how crazy you sound entertaining my crazy, right?” I asked.
“Not crazy in the least,” Price smugly informed me. “I’ve been researching it more, getting a second, professional opinion.”