“Has the family heard anything from LaReigne? Do you have any news? Has there been a ransom demand? Are the police negotiating?” Reporters were shouting behind me, Marcus was sobbing, and I could hear Gentry breathing hard.
“Push,” I said to Gentry, and I stepped as far off to the side as I could. Still holding Marcus, he put his free hand on the frame and leaned his whole body into the door. There was a thump and a crash inside, and the door opened wide enough for us to squeeze through.
Inside, there was no room for us to do anything but stand packed together. Gentry slammed the door closed and set Marcus down on top of a half-collapsed stack of newspapers. I hugged Marcus tight, feeling his whole body quivering. I wondered if he understood why those strangers were shouting his mother’s name.
“It’s okay, buddy. I got you,” I said. With this sick lurch, I realized that I was LaReigne now. Not just for Marcus, but for me. After Dad went to prison, right up until she left for college, LaReigne had been the adult in our family. After that I had to be my own adult, but now I would have to be one for Marcus, too.
“Zhorzha? Is that you, Zhorzha?” Mom yelled from the front room.
“Yeah, it’s me. I have Marcus with me.”
“What was that crash? What did you knock over?”
“I don’t know. Whatever was behind the door. I almost couldn’t get it open.”
What had fallen over was a cardboard box full of ballerina figurines, too high on the stack to be the ones LaReigne had as a kid. There was also a tumbled-over pile of romance novels, a broken laundry basket with a half-finished quilt in it, and two wooden boxes that maybe were for silverware. I knew she got stuff off Craigslist and eBay, but I didn’t have a clue where most of the new stuff came from.
I turned around, intending to make sure the door was locked, and there was Gentry, looking the way he always did. Like one of Marcus’ Lego people. Not very tall, but a solid block, dressed in a black T-shirt, cargo shorts, and Timberlands. He had his back pressed against the door, his head down, and his hands resting on the back of his neck. He didn’t look at me—he never looked me in the eye—so at least I didn’t have to hide the horrified look on my face when I realized what I’d done.
I’d invited my stalker into my mother’s house.
CHAPTER 3
Gentry
I brought Lady Zhorzha and her little page safe through the throng of knaves, but ’twas no great task for the many months I was set to watch over her. To guard the threshold like a dog would give me joy, but my lady needed me carry the boy.
I set him down, and my lady embraced him while I made fast the door. I saw no clear path from that place, and I would not give offense, so I waited to hear my lady’s bidding. I felt her gaze upon me, but knew not how to meet it. ’Twas rare I kenned her, nor she me.
From deep within the cottage, the air rumbled with a great voice, heavy and coarse with age. It called my lady’s name and stirred all the voices in me.
“Come in,” Lady Zhorzha said. “Come in and meet my mother.”
Marcus led the way, clambering like a goat down narrow passages. On all sides heaped up weren manuscripts and folios, and great cupboards filled with platters and goblets. Our footsteps set them to rattle.
“How long has it been like this?” Lady Zhorzha called.
“They’ve been here since yesterday. And calling and calling. I had to unplug the phone.”
“Oh my god, Mom. I tried to call you a bunch of times. Why didn’t you call me if you were going to unplug the phone?”
First Marcus and then Lady Zhorzha withdrew through a doorway, flanked upon each side by mounds of chests and baskets. I followed, and at last, afound the answer to the question I asked of the Witch many a time. ’Twas my bounden duty to protect Lady Zhorzha, for she was descended of dragons.
There, in the inner chamber, reclined upon a throne of red leather that scarce contained her serpentine hugeness, was the dragon Lady Zhorzha called Mother. My lady was blessed with a great mane of fire that ne comb ne blade might tame. Mayhap in the dragon’s youth, she had worn such a mantle, but in her age, her hairs weren grayed.
Fearless, Marcus approached the throne and flung himself upon the lady dragon. For a time, there was kissing and lamenting, for they weren greatly distressed with the fate of my lady’s sister. The dragon clapped the little boy to her and succored him. Then she raised herself upon one red-scaled elbow and with a plume of white smoke spake: “I was calling you all day yesterday! I was about to report you and Marcus missing to the police.”
“I had my cellphone on all day yesterday. What number were you calling?”
“Your apartment number.”
“We don’t have a landline anymore, Mom. You have to call my cellphone. And you can’t smoke around Marcus,” Lady Zhorzha said, but the dragon exhaled another blast of smoke.
“Who is this?”
I felt the dragon’s gaze fall upon me.
“Hark, little knight,” Gawen said. “She would eat thee.”
“Filth and the Mother of Filth,” Hildegard said.
Tho none but I could hear them, I would not support their uncourtesy, and heeded them not.
“This is Gentry,” Lady Zhorzha said.
“Gentry, I suppose we’ll have to introduce ourselves, since she can’t be bothered to.”
“I’m sorry,” Lady Zhorzha said. “Gentry, this is my mother, Dorothy Trego. Mother, this is Gentry Frank.”
The dragon offered one sharp-taloned hand to me, and I took it. I would go upon my knee, but the dragon’s hoard was too close upon her. I bowed over her hand to show my admiration.
“And who are you, Gentry?” she said.
“My lady, I am thy daughter’s champion.”
The dragon laughed like a clap of thunder and pressed my hand.
“Oh, he’s charming. Nicholas was good-looking, but he had no sense of humor. I never could—”
“Seriously, Mom? That’s what we’re talking about right now? Because I can think of a few things that are more important than my ex-boyfriend.”
“Little pitchers have big ears,” the dragon said.
“You’re thirsty, aren’t you, Gentry? Don’t you need a drink?” Lady Zhorzha said, but I kenned not her intention. “Marcus, why don’t you take Gentry and get him a pop out of the fridge?”
“Okay.” Marcus came down from the dragon’s throne and led me further into the maze. The dragon’s hoard trespassed even into the scullery, platters and goblets piled upon the cabinets until the cupboards above opened not. So high weren the things heaped up there, I saw not the spigot.
We passed through another door and into the garage, where great towers of chests and crates rose to the rafters. In the midst of them was a small icebox with a small oven stacked upon it. Marcus opened the door and shew me what was within. I wished not for a sweet drink, but would do as my lady bid.
“What do you want? There’s Coke or orange,” Marcus said.
“I would have an orange drink, Master Marcus.”
“You talk funny,” he said.
“’Twas always thus.”
“Are you Aunt Zee’s boyfriend? You always park outside our apartment.”
“I am her champion. I watch that I might her serve.”
He brought from the icebox two cans, and we sat upon the threshold to the house and drank.
“Do you know where my mommy is?” he said.
“Nay, I know not.” Yet I knew what caused my lady’s distress.
Always in the hall where we ate what was our midday meal, the Duke of Bombardier allowed his vassals to see the news. The night past, I had seen the visage of my lady’s sister. I knew her straight away, for oft I saw her with my lady and with Marcus. Taken, the news had said of the lady LaReigne, by knaves locked up in the gaol at El Dorado. Certs they weren men of ill i
ntent, but mayhap my lady’s sister still lived, tho there was no word of her fate.
When the hour of my leaving Bombardier had come that morning, I went not home, but to my lady’s house. There I saw the sheriff’s men. I perceived not their task, but as I kept watch, Lady Zhorzha had passed and stopped not.
“Soon,” the Witch had said for nigh two years. “Soon Lady Zhorzha shall have need of thee.” As I sat beside young Marcus, the Witch spake again, saying, “They aren under thy protection now. Take them to thy keep.”
“To my father’s keep?” I asked.
“Nay, to thine own.”
I kenned her not, for my keep lay in chaos, a field of stones, and no fit place for my lady, tho oft I dreamt it.
“I don’t like being out here,” Marcus said.
“Dread thee nought. Thine aunt and thee, ye aren under my protection.”
The boy put his hand into mine and I took it as the Witch’s surety. She oft spake in riddles, but I trusted her. If she said ’twas to be, it was.
CHAPTER 4
Zee
Have you heard anything from your sister?” Mom said, as soon as we were alone.
“Not since Monday.” I took out my phone, meaning to show her the texts, but then I looked at them and changed my mind.
Remember you’re getting Marcus from school today. LaReigne had texted that at one forty-five, when I was still at the restaurant.
I remember. She acted like I didn’t have a calendar on my phone to remind me.
Please don’t get high tonight ok? She sent that with a little sad, disappointed emoji, which wasn’t even fair. Who kept all the bills paid? Good old stoner Zee. So why did I get the sad, disappointed emoji?
I never get high when I’m watching him, I’d answered.
Right it’s for “pain relief” but you won’t even TRY the guided meditation I use. You know I had Marcus through natural childbirth using that. No pain meds, no spinal block.
I know. Because she never got tired of telling me.
Just please don’t get high tonight.
It was useless explaining to LaReigne that there’s no natural childbirth equivalent to hitting a highway at sixty-five miles an hour, dislocating your hip, and breaking your leg in two places. Lamaze won’t get you through that.
“The last time she texted me was at like six o’clock on Monday,” I said. “She always lets me know when she gets to the prison, and when she’s leaving, but she didn’t.”
I’d texted her at ten to see where she was, but she never answered. Same at midnight, and, by then, Asher had told me to make the trip to Colorado.
“Well, where have you been?” Mom said, like an accusation.
“I had to do a favor for a friend of mine, so I took Marcus with me, and I thought LaReigne maybe just flaked out. Only she didn’t come back.”
Saying it out loud, it finally hit me. LaReigne had been kidnapped. Taken hostage. Whatever you called it, I didn’t have any idea if she was safe or if they were going to hurt her or when I was going to see her again. Maybe we didn’t always get along, but she was my sister. She was the person who held my hand on two of the worst days of my life.
“Oh, baby, I know.” Mom opened her arms and I went to her the same way Marcus did. I put my knee up on the reinforced arm of her chair, and leaned against her to bury my face in her shoulder. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d hugged her. Not put my arms around her to leverage her in and out of her chair, or the toilet, but to hug her.
“What do we do? What’s going to happen?” I said. Mom’s hand was warm on my back, rubbing slow circles, while I cried all over her shoulder. I wanted to stay there, but I knew I couldn’t. That was even more true than it had been when I was sixteen. I pulled myself together and stood up. “Should we call the police? They have to tell us something, right?”
“They’ve come by twice now, but I couldn’t answer the door.” I couldn’t meant a lot of things to Mom. Maybe she’d been too scared to talk to the police. Maybe she couldn’t get out of her chair and answer the door. “Now that you’re here, though, we’ll call them. And they’ll tell us whatever they know.”
I got the phone plugged back in, and Mom dialed. She was put on hold three times, and every time she had to tell someone new who she was. Then she finally got someone on the line who knew something, because she listened and nodded.
When she started crying, I had to sit down on the arm of her chair. The worst, that was what I expected. The very worst. After a minute Mom went back to nodding, and then she said, “Yes, I understand. That’s fine.”
“What did they say?” I said after she hung up.
“They’re going to send someone to talk to us.”
“What does that mean? Do they have any news?”
“They didn’t tell me anything.” Mom started crying again.
“Have you talked to Emma or Aunt Shelly?” I said. They were practically the only family we had left. Aunt Shelly had been married to Mom’s brother, Tim.
“Not Shelly, but Emma. I talked to her yesterday, just for a minute. Before everything got so crazy.”
“And?”
“We had a little fight. You know, in their minds this is somehow your father’s fault. Or LaReigne’s fault, which is ridiculous.”
“Well, not like she’s completely innocent, either,” I said.
Not that anybody would take me as an example of how to be a good person. Like Toby said, What kind of person takes a kid on a drug run? But what made LaReigne want to do something goody-goody like volunteer at the prison? Hadn’t we already put in our time? Before he died, our father spent twelve years in prison, and we went to see him almost every single week. Wasn’t that enough for LaReigne?
The door to the garage opened, and I heard Gentry and Marcus coming up the steps into the kitchen.
“Yea, I am a knight,” Gentry was telling Marcus. He said it with the k, k-night, and Marcus parroted it back to him that way.
“But k-nights have swords. Do you have a sword?”
“I have more than one sword.”
“You do?” Marcus said.
“What does that mean? Not completely innocent?” Mom said.
“Shh.” I didn’t want to get into it with her when Marcus might overhear us. “There goes my plan to ask Emma to watch Marcus for a little bit. The police were up at the apartment, so I don’t know if we’ll be able to stay there.”
“You should stay here.”
“How? There’s not even any place for us to sit down, let alone lie down.”
“That’s not true. You know there’s a sofa bed in the sunroom.”
The way Mom said it, so sure of herself, it gave me goosebumps. Even if you could get in the sunroom—you couldn’t—I doubted there was a sofa you’d want to sleep on. I stood up, because the whole house was quicksand, and I could feel it sucking me in.
“Probably we’ll get a motel room tonight,” I said.
“That’s silly to spend money on a motel. We can figure out something here.”
“No, I think it’d be better to take Marcus somewhere else. I don’t like all those reporters out there.”
“My lady,” Gentry said from the kitchen doorway. “I offer thee and thy page sanctuary at my father’s keep.”
“Okay.” I didn’t hesitate, because I had to get away from the quicksand. After I escaped, I could figure out what to do.
“Are we going?” Marcus said.
“Not yet, buddy. Grandma has some people coming over who need to talk to her.”
Marcus crawled up into the spot on Mom’s chair I’d just pried myself out of. He kissed her cheek and said, “When’s Mommy coming?”
“Soon, sugar pie. Soon,” Mom said. How many times had she told us that lie about Dad? Soon, when what she really meant was Never.
“Do you wan
t to watch a video?” I asked Marcus. He didn’t move from where he was lying against Mom’s side, but he nodded.
“Gentry, do you mind taking Marcus back out to the garage? Just for a little while?”
“Nay, my lady,” he said. “’Tis my honor.”
“It’s not too warm out there, is it?”
“Nay, ’tis pleasant enough.”
Whether it was pleasant or not, I didn’t want Marcus there when we talked to the police. I got the iPad out of my backpack and gave it to Marcus, who followed Gentry out to the garage, even though he didn’t look very happy about it.
“He’s very charming,” Mom said.
“Who?”
“Gentry. He’s very charming. Where did you find him?”
“Oh god,” I said. “It’s complicated.”
CHAPTER 5
Zee
Where did I find Gentry?
At a physical therapy clinic about three months after Nicholas and I had our huge fight, and I laid his Harley down in rush-hour traffic on Kellogg.
Right after the wreck, while I was still in the hospital, Nicholas had moved home to his parents’ in Merriam. I couldn’t go back to our apartment by myself. Hell, I couldn’t even afford it by myself. I couldn’t move in with Mom, because you could barely walk through her house without a cast on your leg. I was back to being the kind of homeless I’d been since I was sixteen.
LaReigne rescued me. She had come to the hospital while my leg was still in traction. She took my hand, just like when I was little, and she’d said, “I’m taking you home.” So I’d moved in with her and Loudon, which was so delightful I used to fantasize about falling down the stairs and breaking my neck. Marcus had been only two and a half then, and I was sleeping on the other twin bed in his room and listening to his parents fight nonstop.
Two months after the wreck, I was out of my leg cast, but still in a brace and walking on crutches. Twice a week, LaReigne had dropped me off for PT and picked me up after, because I wasn’t cleared to drive. Even if I had been, my car got repo’d after the wreck, because I lost my job and stopped paying on the loan.
The Reckless Oath We Made Page 2