Silverthorn

by Sydney Bristow

  I sensed more than saw two men behind me, both of whom were no doubt ready to escort me off the premises.

  At that moment, Alexis turned the corner along the red-carpeted hall, no longer wearing her wig. She had traded in her schoolgirl outfit for a t-shirt and jeans. “Hey, Tony, she’s all right. She can hang with me for a few.”

  “Can’t let that happen. She beat up on Ray.”

  Alexis put a hand on Tony’s shoulder, drawing his attention. “It’s okay.” She stared into his eyes for a few moments.

  I watched Tony’s determined gaze relax. I didn’t need my sister to tell me that she’d pushed thoughts into his mind, the kind directing him to agree with whatever she asked.

  Alexis said, “Let me and my sister chat for a bit, okay?”

  Tony broke into a wide grin. “Sure, you got it, Lexie.” He turned aside, allowing me a path to walk into the hallway.

  The only issue I had with waiting to speak with Alexis dwelled on whether or not Darius planned to send another crew of vamps after me soon. I couldn’t imagine him spending his days worrying about me, so I doubted he’d even consider following me to strip club, but I couldn’t tell whether he and Alexis had been keeping in touch.

  I followed Alexis as she veered down a tributary of the hallway before stopping at the third dressing room on the right. She opened it, stepped inside, and motioned me to enter. I walked in, unsurprised by the makeshift dressing room.

  Two transparent cases full of make-up lay on a scarred wooden desk across from us. Above it, a flimsy and filmy circular mirror was attached to the table. The rolling leather chair with cigarette burns scattered across it supported the outfit that Alexis had worn on stage only moments ago.

  “What do you want?” asked Alexis. “Payback for killing you?” She stopped behind the door, rummaging through her purse on the coat rack. Obviously, after killing me last week before Celestina brought me back to life, she didn’t regard me as a threat. My sister pulled out a roll of chapstick and applied it.

  I pushed aside my fears that she might try to kill me again, since she acted as if I were more of a nuisance than a threat, which I appreciated, since she’d proved that she could end my life with little effort. Furthermore, I understood why she killed me. She’d done so to protect them from me. If the circumstances were reversed and Alexis tried to murder Grams (before she died, that is), I probably would have done the same thing. Not only that, but Celestina was a good kid. Her kind and sunny disposition were in stark contrast to her mother and grandmother, but I suspected that she picked up some of her good traits from Alexis.

  “I don’t want payback. You’re obviously better with magic than I am. And I’m okay with that. But here’s what I’m not okay with, I just had a run-in with Darius.”

  “Yeah?” she asked, disinterested.

  “He tried to rip my head off.” I waited for a response, but Alexis kept looking through her purse. “I torched him, but he recuperates quickly.”

  “Huh,” said Alexis, obviously paying little attention to me. “What did he say about that?”

  I tramped down on my frustration. “Maybe he’ll send me a ‘thank you’ card.”

  “Cool!” Alexis turned away from the coat rack and went over to table behind her. She bent over a bouquet of flowers and inhaled. “Carnations. They smell amazing.” She turned toward me with a smile. “Go on…catch a whiff.”

  “What I said doesn’t worry you?”

  She stared at me, expressionless. “No. There’s nothing I can do about it.”

  “Are you and Darius buddies or something? I barely escaped from that maniac.”

  “I’m sure he had good reason for trying to kill you. I sure did.”

  “Yeah, he wanted the Soul Sword.”

  “See? Told you.”

  Since explaining the obvious and impersonal didn’t get me anywhere, I decided to try a different tactic to get her attention. “How can you go on stage, wearing practically nothing? It’s demeaning and it objectifies women.”

  Alexis scoffed, grabbed her cell phone, and began texting someone. “Did you see Magic Mike? Do you know how the women in the theater responded? Whooping and hollering. They acted as if they were in a strip club. That movie objectified men. Did they care? Did the women watching the screen care?”

  She made some good points. I looked for another way to incite some intensity in her, so she’d open up to me. “Celestina visited me last night…at 2:00AM.”

  My sister swung around toward me. “What?” She hurried to the desk and grabbed her phone. She gripped the phone so tightly that her forearm bicep flexed. “She snuck out of the house?”

  “Yep. Took a cab. She was scared.”

  “About what?” She stomped up to me, eyes wide. “Why would she sneak out of the house?”

  “She’s scared of Zephora.”

  “Why? Did my daughter have nightmares about her?”

  I shook my head. “Zephora’s back.”

  “Little Miss University.” Dispirited, with all trace of irritation gone, she chuckled. “Grasping at straws, are we? Always coming up with some reason for me to pay attention to you. I can’t blame you. Who doesn’t want to feel important?”

  “Do you remember killing me last week?”

  “I don’t feel guilty about that. You had it coming. Besides, you’re not dead, so…nice try.”

  “Oh, you’ve been there, done that? I’ll be sure to return the favor some day.” I gritted my teeth at her righteousness. “After you…killed me, Kendall retrieved the wooden box.”

  “I know.” She shrugged. “I watched it happen. So, why should I care?”

  “Because that box held Zephora’s soul, and right after I killed our mother, Zephora entered her body.”

  Alexis’s brow furrowed. “Really? That’s what you’re going with?” She tossed a hand in the air, dismissing me.

  “That’s why your daughter visited me. She knows the truth. After Celestina revived our mother, Zephora’s soul entered her body—”

  “Our mother’s body? You get some paranormal gifts, and now you think anything is possible.”

  “Now she’s working behind the scenes to gain control of every paranormal creature.”

  “If you’re trying to blackmail me, you’ll need to try harder. First, I’ve killed you before, so I obviously don’t have a problem doing it again. Second, Celestina would never sneak out of the house. She’s not—”

  “You?” I asked.

  Alexis smirked. “Thank God for that!”

  “Like I said. She’s scared. Zephora is back. Darius is turning humans into vampires left and right. Zephora plans to create an army of paranormal beings, so she can rule the world. And yes, Celestina snuck out of the house to see me!”

  Alexis walked across the room, opened a wooden hutch, which contained various sexy outfits on hangers, and reached up to the top shelf. It held four bottles of liquor. She selected a near empty bottle. She twisted off the cap and took a giant gulp. Then she exhaled a vapor of alcohol at me, closed her eyes, and shook her head. “Does the body good!” Alexis opened her eyes, acting startled to see me standing before her. “What are you still doing here?”

  “You don’t believe me?” I asked. Seeing a smirk light up her features, I swung an open hand into the bottle she held.

  It smashed in half. I’d destroyed bottles and wooden boards before with an open-handed chop during my martial arts training years before, so it didn’t surprise me.

  Alexis stared at the top of the bottle…that she still held, since the bottom half crashed against the ground, leaving behind shards of glass and the liquid it contained around it. “Holy shit!” One side of her lips curled upwards. “That was fuckin’ awesome!” Her smile slowly dropped. “But you owe me another bottle.”

  “Take away your magic,” I said, “and I could do that to your head.” I glared at her. “Do I have your attention now?”

  The other side of her lips lifted in admiration, but a second l
ater, she turned serious. “So Celestina snuck out of the house because Zephora is stuck in Mother’s body. Do you know how messed-up that sounds? Body swapping and what-not?” She returned to the hutch and took out an unopened bottle of watermelon-flavored vodka. “I think you need this more than I do.”

  I grabbed the bottle from her hands, twisted the cap, and took a swig. I cringed at the burn in my throat but appreciated the heat that slipped through my chest. “There!” I held the bottle at my side. “Satisfied?”

  Alexis nodded as though she didn’t trust anyone who refused to drink. She grabbed the bottle from my hands and took another gulp. “All right, you’re serious then.” She considered my words. “I’ve noticed Mother’s been out of sorts this past week. Thought maybe it had to do with the shakes. Withdrawal. I’ve always wondered if she was addicted to one drug or another.”

  Now I could comprehend why Delphine had abused Celestina. She wasn’t in her right mind. Not that substance abuse gave anyone the right to hurt another person. No wonder Alexis consumed so much alcohol. She probably used it as a crutch to deal with our mother. Again, I couldn’t condone that behavior, but at least I understood why she resorted to drowning her sorrows.

  “I suspected she was hooked on something …but you let her watch over your daughter?” Anger shot through my system, triggering an enormous amount of heat through me.

  “Guilty until proven innocent, is that it? Well, I couldn’t prove anything. I searched the house at least ten times: kitchen cabinets, under the bed, behind the flat screen, at the back of the closet. I looked all over. I didn’t see a thing.”

  “You saw the bruises on Celestina.”

  “She told me she tripped down the stairs.”

  “But your house is a flat. There aren’t any stairs!”

  “It happened downtown at Macy’s.”

  “How often does that happen? A teenager falling down the stairs at a department store? Open your bloodshot eyes, for God sake! This is your daughter!”

  Alexis pushed down both hands as she steadied her breathing. “Look, I can see why you’d be suspicious. Mother gave you up for adoption. I get it, okay? But it doesn’t mean that she’s moronic enough to let Zephora take control of her body.”

  I didn’t follow how giving me up for adoption related to our mother allowing Zephora to enter her body. I guessed Alexis referred to our mother having poor judgment.

  “Mother had magic flowing through her veins. Why would she turn to drugs? Wasn’t magic enough?”

  I’d had enough of my sister’s ignorance. “I need you to listen, okay? Our mother is dead. Zephora has control of her body. And your daughter is scared.”

  Alexis took another swig from the vodka bottle and rushed up to me, leaving only an inch between us. “You’re seriously cracked! You need a psychiatrist.”

  “Listen,” I said, trying to disregard the alcohol fumes that singed the interior of my nose. “You can hate me all you want, but your daughter is—”

  “I don’t buy whatever shit you’re shoveling. So go sell your crazy someplace else.” She took another pull from the bottle and swallowed. “And if you visit my workplace again, you’re gonna wish my daughter hadn’t saved your life!”

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  The moment I stepped out of the strip club, I felt cleaner, more sanitary. I had nothing against those who visited those types of establishments, but I breathed easier outside of its confines. My phone rang. “Hello?”

  “It’s Kendall. Are you okay? Brandon and I are at Nolan’s. With everything going on, I was too freaked out to stay at home.”

  “Good idea.” I was also spooked about staying at my place after Darius’s threat of burning down the place. But intuition told me that all paranormal creatures frowned upon such human methods of destruction, regarding them as beneath them, as though those with supernatural abilities should handle all conflicts fairly…by using their gifts to end any given dispute. “Is it big enough for you guys?”

  Kendall chuckled. “There’s plenty of room for you. Come on by.”

  I took down Nolan’s address and drove over. All the while, I suspected that someone (or something) followed me. I checked my mirrors every minute or so, but I hadn’t seen any vehicles swerving in and out of lanes to keep up with me. Since I hadn’t taken a course in tactical defensive driving techniques, I had no idea whether someone trailed me or not. So when I exited my car in Streeterville, I glanced around but didn’t see any vehicles park immediately or shut off their lights and creep up the street. All told, it seemed like paranoia had gotten the best of me.

  Shaking off my neuroses, I walked up seven concrete steps until I reached the porch and stood on a Guns N’ Roses welcome mat, featuring…what else? A couple shiny pistols surrounded by crimson roses. That tickled me. During my college career, I’d read a couple of academic studies revealing that those who listened to heavy metal in their teenage years were more emotionally stable than those who listened to other genres of music. Not only that, but metal fans were the least likely to cheat on their lovers than fans of other genres. Metal enthusiasts were accustomed to being outsiders. Therefore, when they found someone they connected with on any given level, they were reluctant to part with that relationship because nothing was worse in this world than being lonely and misunderstood.

  I lifted the pewter Iron Maiden doorknocker handle that their mascot, Eddie, clenched between his teeth and slammed it against the door a few times. I couldn’t comprehend how our guitarist, who dressed as though he couldn’t afford dinner much less a ranch style brick home that realtors would peg as worth somewhere in the mid-six figures, either owned or rented in such a distinguished neighborhood.

  A few seconds later, Nolan answered the door with an easy smile. “A booty call, huh?”

  The way he stood there, leaning against the door frame, so relaxed yet full of confidence tied my tongue in knots. “In the, um, mid-afternoon?” I asked mangling what I’d hoped would work as a smart-ass remark.

  The edges of his lips perked up at my discomfort. His eyes twinkled with humor.

  “Are you going to say something?” I asked, cursing myself for feeling so insecure around him.

  His amused expression dwindled, but held my stare with such intensity that my knees felt weak. Unsure how to deal with the nature of that heavy stare, thick with desire, I looked down.

  I glanced behind me, pretending to search for an unseen person. “Yeah, she stopped by, but I kicked her to the curb. Hope you’re okay with that.”

  “Wouldn’t have it any other way.” He stepped aside, opening the spring door for me. “Come on in. Make yourself comfortable.”

  “You were pretty smooth last night. Slipping a vampire…and not missing a note?”

  He shut the hardwood door, placed a hand at my back, and welcomed me inside. “I tend to hold up pretty well when I’m put on the spot. I only kind of lose myself in those quiet moments when I don’t know how to act.”

  So in other words…how my legs felt like Jell-O just a moment ago. What would it look like to see Nolan in the midst of that type of reaction? I disregarded those questions because I liked how he ushered me inside, as though he didn’t often welcome women into his home. I was an exception, I was special. I walked across creaky wooden floors, enjoying the scent of caramel and butterscotch that wafted through the house, no doubt emanating from a lit candle, since I didn’t think Nolan baked dessert in his spare time. We stopped in the kitchen.

  “You hungry? I can throw in a frozen pizza or make some tacos.” He opened a cupboard stocked with countless candy bars: Reese’s, Milky Ways, and Hershey’s, not to mention plenty of Hostess Products: packages of Cupcakes, Twinkies, and Ding Dongs.

  “I bet Brandon would love to switch roommates.” I glanced at the walls, which housed framed photos of Nolan with various individuals: most likely aunts, uncles, and grandparents, as well as others closer in age, perhaps friends or cousins. Very few of those younger individuals were women. That
made my heart patter.

  “Hey,” Kendall said, entering the kitchen, followed by Brandon. “Glad you made it. We’ve just been spinning some old-school vinyl: The Stones, Zeppelin, Pink Floyd.” She pushed a hand into a bag of Doritos, pulled out a couple chips, and popped them into her mouth.

  “And smoking some bubonic chronic,” I said, acknowledging the snacks she shoveled into her mouth, even if I didn’t smell pot smoke in the vicinity. “You’ve got the munchies?”

  She gave me a noncommittal glare. Outside of alcohol, Kendall had never touched any substance that altered her mind. “Guess what?” Her mood brightened. “Our show last night? It’s gone viral. We’ve got over 20,000 hits so far on YouTube.”

  Brandon grinned while he balanced a laptop on his forearm. He hit a button on the computer and turned it for me to see. “Check it out.”

  An erratic picture appeared on the screen, showing the stage we performed on before swerving to the crowd, showing one of the vampires making his way toward the stage. Then the image flashed on me grabbing the microphone and singing, moving in one direction and then the other, keeping an eye on the vamps approaching us. The camera cut to Brandon slamming his sticks on his drum kit, Nolan shredding on guitar, and Kendall playing bass with her head down, her dark bangs shielding her eyes. In due time, the camera angle showed the vamps attacking, while I responded by using martial arts and sending shards of fire, at first shocking the audience before they jumped up and down, raised their fists and shouted with excitement.

  Kendall went over to me and threw an arm around my shoulder. “This is so amazing!”

  I released a doubtful chuckle. Too bad it was a one-of-a-kind performance. If the next crowd that saw us expected a similar performance, they would probably throw empty beer cups at us in frustration. Her arm around my shoulder increased the pain in my neck. I cringed and grunted. When Kendall stepped back, afraid that she’d hurt me, I waved off her concern. “I had a run-in with Darius last night. Barely escaped.”

  “Are you okay?” she asked, leading me further into Nolan’s home.