Wuthering Frights (Dulcie O'Neil)

by HP Mallory

  "I'm sorry," I said dumbly, knowing there really wasn't anything more I could say. Anything more would be considered blabbing the entire truth, thereby sealing his fate to an early death.

  Knight didn't say anything for a while, just stood there looking at me with an overall pissed off expression. Then he shook his head and exhaled as he started for the door. "Dulcie, you have issues and the sooner you can attack those issues, head on, the happier you're going to be."

  "I realize," I started, but he held up his hand, intimating that I should talk to it because the face wasn't listening.

  "I actually pity you," he continued and with his other hand on the doorknob, he turned back around to face me. "I just hope for your sake, one day you don't wake up and realize you wasted your entire life by dwelling on the past."

  Then he turned around and walked out of my house, closing the door behind him.

  Eight

  At nine a.m. the next morning, I showed up on Sam's doorstep and rang the doorbell. She answered immediately, a huge smile spreading across her pretty face. Her light brown hair was pulled back into a low ponytail, highlighting her large brown eyes and rosy cheeks. She sort of reminded me of a young Sally Field. She was wearing her "Kiss Me, I'm Wiccan" apron which had to mean one thing—she'd either been cooking or baking. Lucky me.

  "Who the hell are you?" she asked, throwing her hands on her hips as she pretended to be irritated, but the smile curling her lips gave her away.

  "I know, I know," I said, guilt rampaging through me as I shook my head as if to say I had no words for being such a bad friend. If she only knew the half of it ...

  "Well, come on." Sam held the door open wider and grabbed my hand, pulling me inside. "I thought I'd make us breakfast." Then she eyed me suspiciously, tapping her index finger against her mouth. "Knight is right—you have lost weight and you look anorexically thin, like LeAnn Rimes in a bikini thin." She brought her eyes back up to mine. "Not a good look."

  "Thanks ... to you and Knight," I grumbled.

  "Don't worry; I'll fatten you up," she said and pinched my left butt cheek ... a little too hard.

  "Ouch, Sam!" I yelled, swatting her hand away.

  As soon as I walked into her house, the aroma of eggs and bacon welcomed my nostrils. I knew I was in for a treat because Sam was an amazing cook. "Mmm, what smells so completely awesome?" I asked, my stomach growling in agreement, as I dropped my backpack on her sofa, followed by my leather bike jacket. Motorcycle riding was getting old fast just based on the need for constant wardrobe changes. Sidling up to her counter, I took a seat on one of her barstools, swiveling around to face her.

  She smiled proudly. "Well, eggs and bacon with fresh-squeezed orange juice, made from the oranges from my tree, I might add. And then we have blueberry breakfast casserole, zucchini and sweet potato frittata, and snicker-doodle bread."

  "Um," I started, a look of mild concern on my face. "Aside from me, what army do you plan to feed this morning?"

  Sam waved me away with her hand as if she were brushing away crumbs. "I have all these recipes my friends keep pinning on Pinterest, so you're just a good excuse to try them out."

  I said nothing but shook my head and smiled at my best friend, suddenly incredibly grateful to Knight that he'd orchestrated this whole thing. Of course, thoughts of Knight led to memories of last night and I had to firmly push them from my mind, reminding myself for the nth time that what I'd done had to be done—that in the long run, I was doing Knight a huge favor.

  "Okay, Dulce, go sit at the table because breakfast is ready," Sam said, untying her apron and reaching for what I imagined was the blueberry casserole—the verdant blue splotches in the otherwise white dough being my first clue. I followed her to her dining table, pulling out my chair as I watched her gingerly place the casserole on a trivet. Then she returned to the kitchen for dish number two. The fresh squeezed orange juice was already sitting in a clear jug on the table and the eggs and bacon on a large plate just beside the orange juice.

  "If I didn't know better, I'd say you were trying to get into my pants," I said with a laugh, filling my glass with OJ.

  Sam glanced at me and smiled widely. "As if! And, besides, I'm well aware that somebody else already filled that position, no pun intended."

  I smiled at her very-much-intended pun before my smile turned into a frown and a resigned, despondent sigh. I watched her deliver the frittata and the snicker-doodle bread, placing both directly in front of me. She handed me a serving knife, motioning that I should cut myself a slice of the bread. Then she busied herself with piling a heaping spoonful of scrambled eggs on my plate, three pieces of bacon and an even larger serving of frittata. When she started in on the blueberry breakfast casserole, I had to say something.

  "Go easy, there," I begged. She offered me a raised brow but gave me a reasonable serving. Then after fussing around me like she had the Queen of England at her breakfast table, she sat in her seat and started serving herself.

  "So why the sigh?" she demanded. I should have known better than to think my best friend would ever let anything slip by. So, figuring the news would soon be known anyway, I decided it was best for Sam to hear it directly from the horse's mouth.

  "Knight and I broke up," I said, in a dejected tone.

  She didn't respond for a few seconds, taking a bite of her blueberry casserole as she stared at me. Swallowing it, she took a swig of orange juice, surprising me by asking, "What do you think of the blueberry casserole? Good?"

  I hadn't even tried the casserole, or anything else for that matter, but I couldn't say my mind was on food. "Um, did you hear what I just said?" I was completely thrown when she hadn't jumped on the topic, not that I wanted her to, but, still, it surprised me.

  She simply nodded although I noticed her jaw was clenched and she looked annoyed. "Of course I heard you, but I chose to ignore it."

  I frowned at her. "That doesn't sound like the Sam I know and love so well."

  She was about to take another sip of her juice, but seemed to change her mind and plunked the glass down so hard, some of the juice splashed out. "I just don't get you, Dulcie," she said, shaking her head as she glared at me. "Knight is a great guy. And what's more, he's perfect for you." She was silent for a few more seconds. "I just don't understand why you destroy every chance you have for happiness, not to mention that I think it's totally shitty to hurt Knight like that."

  "I said 'we broke up' not 'I broke up with him'," I corrected her, even though the truth of the matter was that I had been the architect. It annoyed me, however, that Sam automatically assumed all the blame rested on my shoulders.

  "You didn't have to say who did it, because I just made an educated guess based on how well I know you," she retorted. "So was I right? Were you the one who ended things with him?"

  I nodded and then immediately held up my hands in a rendition of it wasn't my fault! "I didn't mean to," I started, wondering what exactly I was going to tell her. Earlier, I decided to just blame the whole thing on my hang-ups from my relationship with Jack, but I knew I couldn't lie to her, my best friend. But I also couldn't tell her the truth. Aye, there was the rub. "I didn't have a choice, Sam."

  She frowned again. "Didn't have a choice? Everyone has a choice." Then she eyed me speculatively.

  I shook my head. "I ..." I stared down at my fork on which I'd speared some eggs, but the thought of getting them past my lips was completely out of the question. I'd just lost any appetite I might have had. That burning feeling of acidic bile in my stomach, which had become a permanent tenant ever since my return from the Netherworld, was back in full force.

  "Dulcie, what's going on with you?" Sam asked, putting her fork down as she stared at me. "You're not acting like yourself."

  "I'm fine," I started and tried to act unconcerned, but Sam saw right through me. I should have known she would.

  "Whatever it is, we can get through it together."

  I swallowed hard. "It's not so simple," I
started, finding myself at a loss for words.

  "Well, for God's sake, tell me what it is!" I just took a deep breath and so she continued. "You've been so weird lately, I wasn't even sure if you were going to show up this morning."

  "Of course I was going to …" I started, but she interrupted me.

  "Ever since you got back from the Netherworld, you've been different, Dulcie. You've been avoiding everyone, not answering your phone, not returning phone calls. What happened to you while you were there?" I tried to answer, but she shook her head, signifying that her tirade wasn't over. "Do you realize you never even told me what happened while you were in the Netherworld or why you went, for that matter? You've kept me completely in the dark."

  I took a deep breath. "I left you a message to let you know I was back and that I was okay," I said. My words rang hollow and weak. She was right, I hadn't treated her like the friend she was—really, Sam was the closest person to me. She was more like family than a friend.

  "Dulcie, I was worried sick about you, wondering what the hell you were doing there. Not to mention, what was going to happen to you and Knight? And talking to Dia didn't make matters any better. The two of us were nervous wrecks. I couldn't sleep that whole week! And then all you can say is that you're back and you don't want to talk about it?" Her tone was becoming frantic and it was pretty obvious she'd been keeping all of this bottled inside her, finally reaching her boiling point.

  "I'm sorry, Sam," I said in a mousey voice as I exhaled deeply, searching for some excuse as to why I'd failed her as a friend. "I've just been through so much lately, I barely know what to think of any of it myself."

  "That's what your best friend is for," she responded, her tone softer. "Whatever you're going through, I'm here to help you. You don't have to go through it alone." She took a deep breath. "But in order for me to help you, you're going to have to tell me what the problem is."

  But I shook my head, knowing she was wrong, that I couldn't tell her anything or I'd be endangering her. "Sam, I can't tell you the specifics, and please don't push me because I can't and I won't."

  She eyed me with concern. "What happened to you in the Netherworld, Dulcie?"

  I swallowed hard and shook my head again. "I can't talk about it."

  She reached across the table and took my hand, her eyes piercing through me. "Are you in trouble?"

  I took another deep breath. "Not at the moment and that's why I can't talk about anything. Just trust me when I say I'm handling it, okay?"

  "What does that even mean?"

  I stood up, feeling claustrophobic, like the feelings of turmoil were suddenly caving in on me, suffocating me with angst. I started for the door. "Sam, I can't do this," I said, my voice wavering between anger and sadness. "I have to keep you safe and as part of that, I can't tell you what's going on." I reached for my backpack and jacket. "You have to just trust me on this, okay?"

  "Okay," she said and stood up, pulling at my backpack as she motioned for me to sit down again. "Please don't go. I won't press you anymore, I promise."

  I just nodded and offered her an apologetic smile as I returned to her dining table again. "I'm sorry, Sam, but things are just going to have to be this way for a while, until I can figure a way out."

  She started worrying her lower lip, something she did whenever she was frustrated or upset. "Does Knight know about any of this?"

  "No!" I responded automatically. The thought that she might tell him started wreaking havoc with my stomach. "And he can't know anything! Not even that we had this conversation, okay? Promise me you will keep this to yourself."

  She nodded. "I promise."

  "Charm promise it," I said, knowing that if she charmed herself into promising, she literally wouldn't be able to break the power of the spell, no matter how hard she tried.

  She frowned at me, probably because she was annoyed I hadn't trusted her enough not to say anything without the protection of a charm. Eventually, though, she stood up and walked over to her potions cabinet. Her potions cabinet was a two-foot-by-two-foot white box with matching doors that she'd mounted on the wall beside the front door, for easy access. She bottled a multitude of charms in vials in case she needed them right away and didn't have the time or energy to go through the rigmarole of performing each one.

  The charm I sought, one which discouraged blabbermouths, was pretty commonplace so I wasn't surprised when she located it right away, taking out a vial filled with amber liquid. It was about the size of my thumb. She closed the cabinet doors behind her and then removed the cork from the top of the vial. Once it was free, she eyed me askance (another reminder that she was miffed I'd made her do this) and downed the liquid, saying aloud: "Whatever Dulcie O'Neil tells me, I will keep in strict confidence."

  She carried the vial to the dishwasher and put it in for the next load. Then she faced me with anxiety in her eyes. "Does all this have something to do with why you broke things off with Knight?"

  I nodded, my eyes suddenly feeling heavy with exhaustion. "It has everything to do with why I broke up with Knight."

  She nodded and dropped her gaze to the floor before glancing up at me again. "Then you do still love him?"

  Even though I was surprised to hear her using the "L word," mainly because I hadn't realized I'd been so obvious in my affection for the Loki, I just sighed and nodded. I figured on this one count, I might as well be honest.

  "Is there anyone you can talk to about this, Dulcie?" Sam asked, her expression filled with concern. "Is there anyone you trust whom you can talk to?"

  There was one person—Quill, but he was as deep in all this shit as I was. Plus, I didn't think he'd appreciate me lamenting my shattered relationship with Knight. I shook my head. "I have to figure a way out of it, Sam, but I'll find a way." I offered her a tentative smile. "You know me."

  She returned the smile, but hers was wistful. "If anyone can, it's you. I just hope you know what you're doing and I also hope you aren't in serious trouble." She sighed heavily. "I really wish you'd tell me what's going on, Dulce. I'm sure I could help you."

  I shook my head. "I can't tell you anything, Sam."

  She nodded and dropped her eyes to her lap where she'd folded her hands neatly, like she was posing to have her portrait painted. "I have something for you," she said as if just now remembering and stood up, walking to the far end of the living room. She opened the top left drawer of her entertainment center and produced a white box. Walking back, she handed it to me without a word.

  I opened the box and found a bracelet inside it. It was made of silver wire and appeared to be knitted. The wire knit framed a greenish-blue stone in the middle of the bracelet. The stone was maybe the size of my thumbnail. I glanced up at Sam and smiled. "It's beautiful, Sam, thank you."

  "It's called a Viking Knit," she said. "It's hand woven wire, and back in the days of the Vikings, they used the same weaving for their chainmail armor."

  "Wow," I said, rubbing the stone between my fingers.

  "It's one continuous strand of wire."

  "It's really beautiful."

  "Thanks," she said and looked as if she was very proud of it. "I made it myself."

  I glanced up at her, surprised. "Oh my gosh, Sam! Wow, I'm really impressed! I love it." I rubbed my fingers across the slick surface of the stone, watching it sparkle in the light. "What sort of stone is it?" I asked.

  "A protection stone," she said softly. "Also something the Vikings carried with them. They believed it warded away evil spirits. I charmed it to protect you against anyone who would do you harm."

  "Thank you," I said again, throwing my arms around her.

  "I'm really worried about you, Dulcie," she said as she rested her head against my hair.

  "I'm going to be fine, Sam, I promise." Even as I uttered the words, I couldn't say I believed them.

  She shook her head and sighed as she pulled away from me, smiling as she took each of my hands in hers. Her eyes were shining with unshed tears. "What
ever it is you've gotten yourself into, the bracelet should help keep you safe."

  I watched as she took the bracelet from my hand and placed it on my wrist, securing it as she did so. I shook my hand, the bracelet sliding down my wrist and resting at the top of my hand. The silver knitted metal gleamed in the sunlight streaming through Sam's windows. It was beautiful. I glanced up at my best friend. "Thank you for being you, Sam."

  ###

  I spent the majority of the day with Sam, and I had to admit, I needed every minute of it. Being able to forget the stress of my overwhelming life for a few hours did wonders for me. When I got home, I actually felt rejuvenated, recharged. 'Course, the added energy could also have been from all the food Sam had forced down my throat. I'd eaten more today than I had all week.

  As soon as I walked in my door, I noticed Blue outside in my yard, pawing on the sliding door to be let in. Taped to the glass was a note. I walked over to the door and opened it wide, nearly falling over as Blue jumped up on me. He showered me with doggy kisses, his tail wagging as he peed all over the floor and then looked up at me in an embarrassed sort of way.

  "You silly boy," I said, laughing as I walked to my kitchen, grabbed a handful of paper towels and cleaned up his mess.

  Then with Blue on my heels, I approached the sliding door and pulled the note off the glass, unfolding it to read:

  Dear Dulce,

  I didn't want to keep Blue too long cause I'm sure you miss him. He's a really great dog and if you ever need someone to dog sit again, call me first, k?

  Really glad you're back. We all missed you tons.

  Love, Trey.

  PS: There's this convention coming up for Star Wars and I got this Chewbacca costume that's super cool and I was wondering if you would go with me to the convention? It wouldn't be like a boyfriend-girlfriend thing (Knight would kill me) but like a friend thing. I just don't want to look like a loser going by myself, you know? Oh, and don't worry about a costume—we can find Princess Leah or Padmé or I also have a pretty cool ewok costume I wore last year. That might be a little big on you though ... Don't worry about a costume, we'll figure it out, k? Cool beans?