by T. A. White
I grabbed my mom's arm to prevent her from stepping inside.
"What are you doing, Aileen?" My mom had the tone of voice that I remembered from my childhood—the one that said I needed to think very hard about my answer, because she was about to rain down a mother's wrath. Only difference was, I was no longer a child, and her wrath didn’t contain quite the level of threat it once had.
"She has a poker in her hand, Mom, and she seems very confused."
"Oh, Aileen." Her voice was sad, but this time it was me making her that way. "She's not a threat. I've been coming here for the last few weeks with no problem."
I didn't let go of her. She might not have had a problem before, but the way Mrs. Bradley was looking at me said she might now.
My mother sighed. "I thought the facility was supposed to help you with this paranoia."
I blinked back at her, shocked, and remembered that she thought I'd been in a mental hospital dealing with my nonexistent PTSD and alcohol problem. It was something Liam put in her head to explain my absence and something I'd let her believe to protect her and my family.
In the darkest part of night, I sometimes wondered if the other reason I'd let the belief stand, was because it was just too hard to be around them and their constant well-meaning judgement. They thought they knew the world, and they didn't. Trying to explain that to them, was like standing on top of a mountain and shouting a warning to the town below that an avalanche was coming. Frustrating and heartbreaking.
"Mom, this has nothing to do with that. She threatened me with a poker before you showed up. I don't want you going in there alone."
She huffed at me and shook her head, making it clear she didn't believe me. "I'm going in there to help her. If you're so worried, you're welcome to join me."
With her invitation, the invisible force keeping me out disappeared, leaving me free to follow her inside. Despite that, I almost blocked her entrance. Mrs. Bradley watched us with suspicious eyes, not at all convinced we weren't monsters.
"You've given the monster entrance," she said, flicking an angry glance my mother's way.
My mother's laugh was humorless as she headed for Mrs. Bradley's kitchen to put away the groceries that she'd bought. "I can vouch for the fact that my daughter isn't a monster."
Mrs. Bradley didn't take her eyes off me, her hands moving over the poker in her lap. Her preoccupation with that thing had a sinister edge to it, and I made sure to stay close to where my mom made herself busy in the kitchen washing dishes.
"I don't remember her being this odd when I was a child," I said, not taking my eyes off Caroline's mother.
My mom looked up from the cleaning she'd undertaken. The house had an odd, musty smell, and it was easy to tell that the trash hadn't been taken out in a while.
"That's what happens when you're gone for years," my mom said, a hint of disapproval in her tone. "People change, circumstances change."
I ignored the disapproval—it had gotten easier over the years, though it always stung, like a splinter you just couldn't dig out of your hand. She hadn't approved of my decision to join the military, and my lack of focus—her words—since I got out hadn't helped matters.
"Why wouldn't Caroline tell me she was so bad off?"
Mom busied herself scrubbing the counters free of an odd sticky substance. "My guess is she was ashamed and didn't want anyone to know. Her mom's mental state has been deteriorating for a while now. This is a bad day for her. Normally, she's a little better."
"Still."
"You have no one to blame but yourself." Her voice was crisp. "You made it clear when you came back that you wanted to keep a distance between yourself and everyone else. She respected that distance."
I flinched at her words, unable to argue. I had made an effort to keep myself away from everyone, even as I couldn't bring myself to cut off contact entirely. It didn't make it any easier to hear.
"Why are you here, Aileen?" my mom asked after a long moment. Finished putting the groceries away, she rested her hands on the counter and gave me a hard stare.
"Caroline hasn't been answering her phone and wasn't home. I was hoping her mom could help me figure out where she'd gone."
My mom's smile was hard. "Her mom isn't likely to be of help to anyone. Not even herself."
I saw that. This trip was going to result in a dead end.
"I assumed you would be at the facility for longer," she said, not taking her eyes off my face.
I went very still, fighting to keep any expression off my face that might give away my guilt. "They said I was all better and free to go."
I met her eyes and tried to project sincerity. Unfortunately, this woman had changed my diapers and seen me through my troubled teen years, as well as a short phase in middle school where everything out of my mouth had been a lie. She could smell my fabrications from a mile away with her fine-tuned mom sense.
She arched one eyebrow. "I was under the impression that it was a year-long program."
A year long? What had Liam been trying to pull? And who would have the money to send anyone to a facility the likes of which Liam had pretended to work at? It was the type of place only the filthy rich would have been able to afford. Something I was decidedly not, and neither were my parents.
"I guess I wasn't as bad off as everyone assumed." This was true, since I had neither PTSD nor an alcohol problem. My issues were of a more permanent nature, but tell that to my mom.
"You didn't go, did you?" she asked, her voice flat.
Damn. She was like a lie-sniffing dog.
"I can't believe this, Aileen." She slammed the rag in her hand down in the sink. "How could you do this?"
"Me? I'm not the one who ambushed their daughter and accused her of being mentally unstable and an alcoholic. Neither of which have any merit."
"Don't you lie to me," she snapped back, her voice ugly as her eyes flashed. "You know you're not right."
My chest heaved at the unfairness of that statement. "I’m different than I was before, yes. That doesn’t mean there’s something inherently wrong with me. Just because I don't do what you want doesn’t mean I'm flawed. It means I'm an adult capable of making my own decisions."
"Bullshit. I'm your mother. I know when something is wrong." She pointed a finger at me.
I turned away and took a deep breath. Mustn't lose my temper and chance showing her what that something wrong was. I had a feeling she'd prefer an alcoholic over a vampire.
When I spoke again, my voice was level. "I have a stable job and an apartment. I even have friends." Granted, they were odd friends, and not the sort you let around your family. "It's not like I'm homeless, living on a street and unable to function in society."
"Aileen." Her voice turned pleading. Next, she’d turn on the waterworks. I loved my mother, but she was as manipulative as the day was long.
I hardened my heart. If I let her continue, she would find a way to turn this around until even I thought I might have a problem. I couldn't let her do that, especially in light of all the issues I was already dealing with.
"No." I kept my voice firm and even. "We're not talking about this anymore. This is my life, and I'll live it how I choose. You can either accept that and respect my boundaries, or you can get out of it. Your choice, Mother."
I met her gaze and tried to put all my resolve behind it. Much as I loved my family, I couldn't let them keep doing this to me. It was hard to listen as they listed all the things they thought wrong with me, and dangerous for them if they kept crossing the limits I set.
The tears that had been threatening her eyes dried up, and she met my gaze, her jaw clenching. The stubborn woman that I'd butted heads with on many occasions as I'd grown up was there in her eyes.
"You're just like him," my mom said, the comparison sounding ugly.
I stilled. “Like who?”
Before tonight, I probably wouldn’t have questioned the comparison, assuming it was of my dad. Except my dad and I had never had m
uch in common, and she had never sounded like that when talking about the dad I’d grown up with. After listening to the conversation about my possible spook heritage, I had questions. Lots of them.
My mom looked away, her jaw hardening.
“Mom, who am I like?” I asked in a measured voice.
“I’m not talking about this anymore,” she snapped, her voice cold and hard.
“What are we talking about, Mom?” I asked, my voice high and tight. Suspicion was crowding close the more she evaded. I didn’t want to think what I was thinking—that my dad might not be my dad. That was too horrible to contemplate, even as her actions drove that thorn ever deeper.
"I’m done with this conversation.” She made a sharp gesture, cutting me off. "Since you don't want to take the first step toward getting better, I'll leave you to live your life the way you want—without me in it."
Her words were like a punch in the stomach—almost worse than the questions about my dad. I hadn't really thought she'd take that choice. I'd thought the ultimatum would force her to see that what she was doing wasn't helping, that it was making things worse between us. Seemed I'd done that anyways.
She threw the rag into the sink and stepped around the counter, grabbing her keys and tossing a goodbye in Mrs. Bradley's direction.
"Mom, don't do this." My voice was small as I tucked a shaking hand into the back pocket of my jeans. I hated fighting with her. I always had, but I couldn't let her continue as she had been. I just didn't have it in me.
She stopped in the doorway. A sniffle reached me and then she rubbed her eyes. "You know where to find me if you decide you'd like help."
She hesitated, and for a moment, I thought about calling out to her, promising anything to take the hurt out of her voice. She walked away, and I said nothing to stop her.
Mrs. Bradley cackled, her laugh breaking me from the emotional morass I was venturing into. "Perhaps you're not such a monster after all."
I sniffed, sucking back any emotion that might be trying to leak out of my eyes. "What do you know of monsters, Mrs. Bradley?"
She moved back and forth in her chair, and I realized it was one of those rocking chairs that looked like a normal armchair. She contented herself with rocking for a few moments, staring off into the distance.
For a moment, I thought she might have gotten lost in her own world, and I considered leaving. She spoke before I could take a step toward the door. "They're all around us, though you'll never see them."
She rocked for several more moments, muttering to herself. I stayed where I was since she still had the poker clutched in her hands. I didn't want to chance that she would go after me with that thing.
"It's best that they keep to their own kind, Lena," she said, using the nickname from when I was young and innocent. "Humans and monsters just aren't meant to be together. Bad things happen when the two intersect."
"What happened to you, Mrs. Bradley?"
Her gaze turned faraway, and her face grew haunted. "The monsters got a hold of me and made me a monster too."
My eyes were thoughtful as they rested on her. She was human, or at least she felt human to my senses. It was possible that I wasn't picking up on her spook factor, and that someone like Liam or Brax would be able to sense more. Not that I could ask either one of them for their help, even if we were on speaking terms. I imagine it was why Caroline asked my mom to take care of hers rather than having one of the wolves do it.
There was a chance they'd see her mom and know what was wrong, but there was also a chance that they'd consider her a threat to their secrecy. Caroline and I wouldn't risk her mom's life without being dead sure that what we were doing would help her in the end.
"Is that what happened to you, Aileen?" she asked.
My mouth quirked. At least she was back to referring to me by my name and not as a body replacing monster.
"Yeah, Mrs. Bradley. That's what happened to me too."
She nodded, her eyes sad. "I'm sorry I couldn't save you."
I shrugged. "It is what it is."
"I saw my daughter last night," Mrs. Bradley said, her voice distant. My heart leapt at the unexpected piece of news. "The monsters had got to her too, and she wasn't my baby anymore."
I ventured closer, taking a seat on her coffee table to make myself seem smaller and less threatening. The spot was still far enough out of reach of her poker that I could stage a hasty retreat if need be. "Where was this, Mrs. Bradley? Where did you see Caroline?"
"She wasn't my Caroline anymore." Emotion thickened her voice and a mad light entered her eyes.
Okay, I wasn't going to be able to reason with the current Mrs. Bradley. She was a little too close to the edge for that, and I didn't want to upset her more for fear she would shut down, and any information I needed would disappear into the twisty corridors of her mind.
"Where did this monster who used to be Caroline appear to you?" I asked, my voice hesitating over the word monster.
"She was in my dreams." Mrs. Bradley's smile was wistful and serene. "She was running from something, darkness all around."
I sat back, disappointed in the answer. I'd hoped for something more, something a little more helpful.
"She's not going to be able to escape it, Lena. It'll chase until it catches her. It's going to consume her, and I'll never see my baby again." Mrs. Bradley turned towards me, her eyes made scarier by the utter calmness in them. An emotion that had been missing from her until now. "Just like it got you."
Her words sent a chill down my back, despite the fact I knew she was a few cards short of a full deck.
"It's time for you to go now, my dear," she said, lifting the poker. "And don't come back."
"Wait, Mrs. Bradley. I need to ask if you know where Caroline is, where she might go. There are people looking for her, monsters looking for her. It's important I find her first."
"Oh, my dear," Mrs. Bradley's expression was pitying. "The monsters have already found her."
"What?" I asked. It was the only question I had time for before Mrs. Bradley raised the poker and swung at me. I dodged, the iron coming down hard, scraping the coffee table where I'd been sitting moments before. "Mrs. Bradley, wait. What are you doing?"
I evaded another swing. This one taking out a few objects on the end table. The woman was surprisingly spry given her mental state and age.
"Sorry, my dear. No monsters allowed here."
She wound up for another swing. The backs of my legs bumped against the couch, and I clambered up and over its cushions, knocking over a lamp as I vaulted over the end. The poker buried itself in the cushions, and Mrs. Bradley pulled it free with a rip, the cushion's insides coming out in a flurry of white.
"Mrs. Bradley, it's me. It's Aileen. You've known me since I was two," I said, holding out a hand, palm facing up to show I wasn't armed.
She hesitated in the middle of her next swing, the poker over her shoulder, and blinked at me. Confusion in her face as she looked around the wreckage of her living room. "Aileen."
I breathed a sigh of relief. She recognized me again. Thank God. I didn't want to be the one responsible for anything happening to Caroline's mom, even if it was an injury that was self-induced. "Yes, Aileen. How about we put the poker down, and I'll get this straightened up?"
She looked around, the confusion draining from her eyes and that familiar set expression taking hold again.
"Uh oh," I said. This wasn't going to be as easy as I thought.
"I know what you are," she said, her voice deeper and more confident. She pointed the poker at me, her expression vindictive. "And you won't take me like you took my daughter."
"I don't plan to do anything to you, and I would never hurt Caroline," I said, desperate to get her to see reason. I'd run out of places to go, and I was hemmed in on both sides by a fallen end table and her TV. The door to outside was behind her. The only way to it was through her, something I couldn't bring myself to do.
"You're a liar, Lena. You
always have been." She didn't sound upset, her voice calm.
That was kind of true. Though, I hadn't realized Mrs. Bradley knew about all those times Caroline and I had lied to get out of trouble or to get into it.
"Aileen Travers, I rescind your invitation to this home. Never darken its doorstep again." She stepped aside, her bearing that of a warrior goddess and her eyes watchful.
A force exploded in my chest, and a thunderclap deafened me. I was propelled out of the house, flying through the air, my shoulder clipping the door as I burst out of it. I landed hard on my back on the walkway out front, the breath exploding from my chest as I blinked up at the lamp post over me.
"Goodbye, Aileen. I'm sorry I couldn't save you from the monsters," Mrs. Bradley said. She was back to seeming like a frail old lady, nothing like the Valkyrie that had managed to toss me out of the house with just a few simple words.
I rolled to my side, my body not quite willing to find its way upright quite then. "Wait."
She didn't pause, her door closing with a sense of finality.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
I COLLAPSED AND groaned. That had hurt. A lot. My body still ached from her rescinding the invitation.
I hadn't even known that was possible. Sure, I knew I needed one to enter a domicile inhabited by a human since I'd had a few unfortunate encounters with the strange barrier in the past, but I hadn't known that rescinding it resulted in a physical expulsion. Learn something new every day.
I forced myself to sit and looked around. What now? Mrs. Bradley had been less than helpful. All she'd given me was a bunch of muttering about darkness swallowing Caroline. Given her apparent knowledge about monsters and evicting vampires, I was willing to give more credence to Mrs. Bradley's dream than I would have otherwise. It still didn't give me much; definitely not enough to find her.
All I'd gotten for my troubles was a bruised ass and ripped jeans. I fingered the rip and curled one lip. Another pair destroyed. Apparently, I was way harder on my casual wear as one of the fanged than I'd ever been as a human. This was the third pair I'd damaged this month. At this rate, I'd need to make another trip to the thrift store.