Daughters of Delirium (Tainted Queens Book 1)

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Daughters of Delirium (Tainted Queens Book 1) Page 3

by A. M. Miller


  Perhaps that was part of the reason they were never close. Her mother was too busy being queen to stop and be something else. Lu had never truly known her mother and now she never would.

  Lu looked back up at Domicin. Her name wasn’t something she was meant to hold onto but she found it hard to let go.

  I am no one, Lu told herself. She would repeat the words until they became real.

  “From now on we are nameless. If you will be my Jack of Heart then I will be your queen,” Lu said.

  She held out her hand. Her words made everything feel more real. Surrounded in this room of blood and death she gave up a part of herself.

  Domicin bent down on his knee ignoring the blood. He placed the back of her hand against his forehead. When he pulled back he looked Lu in the eyes. “My life belongs to my queen and my queensland. You have my sword and strength, use it at your will.”

  The moment the words left his mouth Lu felt something inside her change. Warmth coursed through her body, strengthening her. She could feel every muscle coil with untapped energy. On the outside, she still looked the same but there was a hidden power inside her now. Their bond was complete, now only two more to go. Already she was beginning to change.

  Lu looked back at Domicin. They were partners and strangers. Together they would stand on the battlefields. She was entrusting him with her life. By binding their fates, she’d allowed his strength to become her own.

  “Do not fail me,” Lu said.

  “I won’t.”

  Lu took a step back from him. Her heel slipped against wet floor and her arms flailed. She fell forward. Domicin reached out his arms to catch her and the bottom of her dress brushed the floor coloring itself red. Her heart pounded in her chest and her hands shook.

  “My queen,” Domicin said as he held onto her.

  Lu pushed herself up, ripping away from Domicin. Her dress stuck below her knees, the blood seeping through the fabric staining her legs. She held herself perfectly still. “Gather the men. The bells will ring and soon everyone will know their queen has died. We must control the narrative. I’ll need them to be prepared.” Lu did not look at Domicin. The room overloaded her senses; the feeling, smell, and sight of it were all too much. She would not last much longer.

  “Yes, my queen.”

  Domicin stepped aside. Lu moved forward to the door, her dress sticking to her legs and her feet sticking to the floor. A drop of blood splattered down on her forehead, trailing red between her brows. Lu looked up at the high arching ceiling. A red crescent smile ripped across the wooden arch. Another drop fell hitting Lu’s cheek.

  The old queen was dead. Long live the new.

  4

  Raven’s alarm squawked like a wounded duck. She reached over, her hand slapping against the clock a few times before finding the right button to silence it. With the alarm off, she turned back over in bed. She stared up at her eggshell ceiling. Last night she’d tossed and turned awakening before the sunrise from a nightmare. Her dream was hard to recall, but the fear of it followed her into the waking world.

  Raven pushed the covers off. Her gray tank top was twisted out of place and she took a moment to adjust it. Nightmares weren’t uncommon for her. Most were about her mother. She’d relived that night a thousand times in her dreams. If Raven could not recall this dream then maybe that was for the best.

  She planted her feet on the plush carpet and felt the chill of her room. The window was open, left ajar overnight. Branches rustled outside the screen. Michigan was a state of trees. They’d once grown untamed and even in cities like Detroit, they retained their wild spirit, overtaking the abandoned and forgotten. The one outside her window was old, limbs stretching up disturbing the cable lines whenever the wind blew as if to remind the world that it was still here. The shadows of the branches stretched out like claws inside her room.

  Raven rubbed her eyes and felt something scratch against her lid. She pulled her hand back.

  The ring glittered in the rays of morning light. She’d almost forgotten about it. Dion said the ring stood out and she supposed he was right. It was enchanting. She wondered how much he’d paid. Even if the gems were fake, it still looked expensive. The longer Raven looked at the ring the harder it was to turn away.

  Raven’s phone buzzed on her nightstand. She turned her attention away from the ring in favor of her cell phone. Tiffany’s name with the emoji of the two girls dancing next to it flashed across the screen. Raven slid her finger over the screen and answered.

  “Hey girl hey,” Tiffany sang.

  “Hey, Tif. What’s got you in such a good mood?” Raven asked, her voice carrying the rough grumble of someone who’d slept for centuries.

  “Nana wants to take me to get breakfast. She said to ask if you want to come. We can pick you up on the way.”

  Raven thought about the cold pop tart she normally had for breakfast. Her stomach growled in defiance. She would have to leave earlier than planned but at least she’d eat real food.

  “Sure, tell Nana I said thanks,” Raven said.

  “Okay, we should be there in fifteen.”

  They said goodbye to each other before hanging up the phone. Raven rushed to get ready. She slipped on a blue polo, black dickeys, and black converse. Her wild dark curls fought against her as she tried to get them into a bun. She gave up hope as the last bobby pin fell to the ground and let the rebellious curls hang where they pleased.

  Once Raven finished, she moved to the bathroom. She brushed her teeth and washed her face. As her soapy hand approached the scarred side of her face she hesitated. Raven turned her cheek to the mirror. She studied the marks. Her fingers ran down the jagged lines tracing the same pattern her mother had torn into her. When her fingers reached her collar she stopped.

  Raven pulled her hand back, eyes falling to the rushing faucet. Water swirled around the blue sink dropping into the dark drain. Raven continued to wash, her eyes avoiding the mirror. When she fished she turned off the light and made her way down to the first level.

  Nana’s car pulled up a few minutes later. Raven swung her backpack over her shoulder and locked the door.

  Tiffany’s head stuck out the passenger window of nana’s blue minivan. “Buenos días, chica.”

  Raven smiled and opened the door to the back seat. The car smelled like peach cobbler, a smell Raven instantly linked to Nana. Her mother, even in her better years, had never been much of a cook. Tiffany’s mother was decent but she rarely had time to prepare a meal working two jobs. Most of their experience in the kitchen came from cooking Thanksgiving dinner with Nana.

  She sat in the backseat pushing the wrestling action figure and game cartridges over to the other side. “Hey, nana,” Raven greeted the older woman in the front.

  Nana looked back at Raven and smiled, her honey brown eyes held a soft twinkle. Raven hoped that when she was nana’s age she’d be able to look as good as the woman in front of her. Nana’s light brown skin hadn’t aged a bit. The long gray dreadlocks she held wrapped in scarves were one of the few things that let people know she was over the age of forty.

  “Hey baby, how you been,” Nana greeted. Her voice had the rasp and cadence of a jazz singer.

  “Good, Nana,” Raven answered, “You look like you’re doing better.”

  Nana chuckled. “I don’t know about that. Yancy and the twins have been running me up a wall.”

  Raven’s smile widened. Yancy was Nana’s youngest daughter. When she’d dropped out of grad school pregnant with twins Nana moved down south to help out. From the stories Raven heard, the two boys were more than a handful.

  Raven caught a glimpse of Tiffany rolling her eyes. Her smile faltered.

  The car took on an uncomfortable silence. Tiffany blamed her aunty and cousins for taking her nana away. The year nana moved was the same year Raven left. Raven watched Tiffany from the backseat wanting to say something but didn’t know what.

  An old Beyoncé song started to play on the radio, one of T
iffany’s favorites. It started as a simple hum but by the time the chorus came around again they were both singing along. All thoughts of Tiffany’s relatives were forgotten. They sang off key not caring who heard. Nana laughed and joined in. By the time they made it to the restaurant Raven’s throat was sore.

  They sat down at a booth near the window. The smell of fried eggs, buttermilk pancakes, and coffee filled the air. Raven flipped through the menu focusing in on the prices. Her mouth salivated when she saw the blueberry waffles but she chose the buttermilk pancakes that were a dollar cheaper.

  As they ate their meals nana notice the ring on Raven’s finger.

  “Oh my, how lovely,” Nana said taking Raven’s hand in hers.

  Raven glanced down at the ring. “Dion picked it out for me.”

  “I always said that boy was sweet on you.”

  Tiffany snickered. Raven kicked her under the table but that only made Tiffany laugh harder.

  “It’s not like that Nana. It was a birthday gift,” Raven said.

  “Raven honey, a boy only buys jewelry like this for a woman he's interested in.”

  Raven sighed. It was pointless to try to convince nana that their relationship was platonic. Once the woman got an idea into her head, it never left. Nana had probably already started planning the wedding.

  “I think Dion is a fine young man. You two should do nice together.” Nana nodded as if giving her blessing to the engagement.

  “I agree,” Tiffany said, her eyes sparkling with amusement.

  Raven glared at her friend but Tiffany remained unfazed. Raven thought about kicking her again but a more devious idea popped into her head.

  “Hey, Nana, when was the last time you talked to Jamal? Maybe the next time you come you could bring him up with you.” Raven glanced over at Tiffany with a smile.

  Nana's face lit up as she launched into the new topic. Jamal lived next door to Yancy. From the stories they’d been told, he was the town's golden boy. Played on the football team and sang in the church choir, the whole shebang. Nana was convinced he was Tiffany’s soul mate. She’d talked about him whenever she visited.

  Raven fought back a laugh as she watched her friend’s face. Tiffany smiled and nodded but Raven knew the girl was mentally rolling her eyes. Golden boys weren’t Tiffany’s type. The idea of settling down with anyone made Tiffany uncomfortable. She pretended to care for her nana’s sake.

  They were halfway finished with their meal when the first drop of water splattered against the window; by the time they finished it was a full down pour.

  “This weather is the blues,” Nana said as she turned up the windshield wipers. They were all a little wet by the time they made it back to the van.

  “Michigan, if you don’t like the weather just wait ten minutes,” Tiffany said.

  Nana shook her head. “This is what I don’t miss.”

  Raven looked at her window. It was covered in raindrops. They raced to the bottom leaving wet trails in their wake. She looked up at the gray sky and saw a streak of lightening, electric white against a dark gray background.

  “God’s crying again. He’s seen too much of the world today.” Her mother’s brown eyes stared up into the distance. Rain poured down from the sky. Raven and her mother stood at their screen door watching as god’s tears bathed the earth. The wind was strong enough to make her pigtails sway. Raven looked at her mother. She seemed to be some place far away, but then those brown eyes turned on Raven and she smiled. “Seems even god gets sad sometimes.”

  Nana’s car pulled into the school parking lot. Just looking at the red brick building twisted Raven’s stomach into knots. Tiffany was the first one out of the car. She stood by the car, teal umbrella in hand. Raven reached for the door but Nana's voice stopped her.

  “Raven, can I talk to you for a second?” Nana asked.

  Raven glanced at Tiffany. She had her cellphone out, the screen illuminated as she scrolled. Raven glanced back at the older woman. “What’s wrong, Nana?”

  Nana’s eyes were full of conflict but then she smiled and it disappeared. “Have you heard anything about your mother?”

  Raven’s shoulders slumped as she felt herself growing smaller. Memory of her last visit to the hospital tormented Raven. The bloody room, her mother screams, and the nurse’s hands against Raven’s shoulders as he tried to hold her back, she remembered it all. Raven shut her eyes to the memory.

  “They say her visitations are canceled until further notice. She had another episode and attacked a doctor. I think…” Raven paused. The word seemed to stick in her throat. Nana waited patiently for her to continue.

  “She doesn’t like it there. It’s getting worse and they’re not helping. Whatever the doctors are doing isn’t working.” Raven hadn’t wanted to admit that her mother’s condition was worsening. She’d kept it bottled up inside of her since leaving the clinic.

  Nana reached back and placed her hand on Raven’s. “You’ve always been strong, Raven, and I’ve always thought of you as my own grandbaby. You and Tiffany been like sisters since y’all was little girls. No matter what happens, you two stick together, ya hear me. You’ll need each other for what’s coming next.”

  Raven couldn’t speak, her tears choked at the back of her throat, so she nodded instead. What would happen next was an abstract concept. Right now was all she had and it was hard enough. Raven couldn’t worry about the future when she was losing control of the present. Day by day and second by second, that’s how she survived.

  “Good girl. Now put a smile on your face. Those kids out there are like piranhas they attack the moment they smell blood,” Nana said.

  Raven took a few deep breaths and did as Nana instructed. With her smile in place, she opened the door to join Tiffany outside the car. Rain pelted down on her before she ducked under Tiffany’s umbrella. Smashed together they both waved to Nana as she pulled off.

  Tiffany pulled Raven closer, offering a reassuring smile. “Ready for another great day in the American teenage penitentiary?”

  “No.”

  “Too bad.”

  They held onto the umbrella as they made their way to the front door.

  Rufus High School wasn’t the nicest charter school but it wasn’t the poorest either. Their halls were made of pea green lockers and checkerboard tiles. There were a few kids from the slightly wealthier families that had enough money to add variety to their dress but for the most part, they all looked the same in their blue and black dress code.

  Tiffany’s umbrella dripped down on the tile swinging back and forth as they walked. The floor was slick with muddy water that other students had tracked inside. Raven did her best not to fall.

  She noticed several of the students whispering and giggling as she passed. She ignored them. During the past four years, Raven became used to being treated like a social pariah. She stopped in front of her locker. “Psycho Bitch” had been spray painted there, snot yellow against a pea green. More laughter came from the students standing near by.

  Raven sighed. She wished people would at least try to be original. She’d been called that more times than she cared to remember.

  “Guess that’s partly my fault,” Tiffany said.

  Raven opened her locker and placed her backpack inside. “Nah, he’s just mad I broke his nose.”

  The hit had shocked both Raven and the boy. She’d thrown the punch but hadn’t really expected it to do much damage. Her therapist encouraged her to take up boxing as a healthy emotional release. She’d gone to a few classes but never thought she’d use her moves in the real world.

  “True, but that probably wouldn’t have happened if I hadn’t got so wasted at that party,” Tiffany said.

  “Being drunk doesn’t give him the right to put his hands on you.” Raven slammed her locker close. She might not have anticipated causing that much damage but she didn’t regret it either. He had it coming.

  Last week Tiffany had surpassed her drinking limit. Raven received a d
runken text begging for her to come pick Tiffany up. She agreed. It was almost two in the morning but she didn’t like the idea of her drunk friend wondering the streets. Her father had been working another late night so no one stopped her from using the car. When she’d finally made it there, Tiffany was getting felt up by one of their school’s basketball players.

  Tiffany shrugged. She was trying to brush it off like it wasn’t a big deal, which pissed Raven off. She didn’t understand why Tiffany wasn’t more upset. Raven saw the bruises around Tiffany’s wrist. If it were Raven, she'd never hang out with him or his friends ever again.

  If it were you, you never would have gone out, her inner voice added.

  Raven sighed again. She tried not to judge Tiffany’s other friends, realizing that Tiffany had the right to make her own choices. At first, she wanted to report the incident but Tiffany declined.

  Raven didn’t fully understand, but she let it go. They trusted each other to keep their secrets and Tiffany had helped Raven hide her fair share of bruises. Her mother never meant to hurt her, but if she tried to explain that out loud no one would understand. The episodes came randomly, never as intense as the incident, but every now and then a grip was too tight or nails bit too deep. Tiffany’s makeup expertise made marks fade into obscurity and she kept the questioning to a minimum.

  “The look on his face after you hit him was pretty funny.” Tiffany chuckled breaking the tension.

  Raven smiled back at her. “Boys like him need to be knocked around every now and then.”

  “Boys like who?” Dion strolled up behind them and swung an arm over Raven’s shoulders. Raven remembered the conversation she had with Nana during breakfast. Chuckling, she pushed the idea away. She couldn’t think of him that way, Dion was just Dion, her sweet best friend who’d grow up to marry someone worth his affections. Probably some prim and proper politician’s daughter.

  Tiffany rolled her eyes at Dion. “Boys like you who jump in conversations without invitation.”

  “Oh but Tee, you’re just so warm and inviting. What man could resist wanting to talk to you.”

 

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