by Jane West
I started to bale until Sam called my name. “Stevie!”
I paused with my hand on the doorknob, keeping my back to Sam. “What?” my voice was sharp.
“If you decide to bind yourself to Aidan, you have to do it at the stroke of midnight, or else you lose everything. Yours and Aidan’s powers and possibly your lives.”
I paused a moment mulling over this absurdity in my head. I replied with a curt answer. “Thanks.” My voice felt flat and empty.
Without further discussion, I snatched up my hoodie and flew out the door.
Evil Follows
As I hurried down the steps shrugging on my hoodie, a light coming from my house caught my eye, and I halted. Rain poured off my hoodie hindering my vision, but the soft glow penetrated through the sheets of rain like a beacon.
I hadn’t given it much thought where to look for Sara. Maybe she'd returned looking for me? I needed to warn her about findings. I couldn't understand why she sold me to Bane, but I didn't want to fight with her either. I wanted to say my peace and be on my way.
I hoped she and Francis planned to get out of town too. Despite Sara's betrayal, I honestly didn't want anything to happen to her. Life was too short to harbor ill will, even if the person deserved it.
I spied Francis’ old car parked outside, no sign of the red Ferrari. “Mom!” I whispered. All of a sudden, I wanted my mother.
Hovering from the gushing rain, I tromped through the mud, half blinded by the cold rain, streaming down my face, my eyes set on the little white house that I once called home. I scurried up the steps and reached for the doorknob.
Against the howling winds and pounding rain on the rooftop, I heard faint cries as I closed the door behind me. The sobs were coming from the kitchen. “Mom!” A profound sense of worry flurried through me as I rushed to the kitchen. My pending troubles somehow didn’t seem as important. All I could think about was my mom.
When I entered the kitchen, my eyes fell upon Sara slumped, her face buried in her hands, seated at the table. Tissues scattered across the floor like white dots.
I rushed to her side and kneeled before her. “Mom, what’s wrong?”
She sniffled, her voice appeared frail. “It’s Francis.” She choked through tears. “He’s left me.” She began weeping deep from the belly, her shoulders shook.
“Where is he? I’ll call him.” I pulled my cell from my pocket.
“He’s gone!” she roared.
“Mom, don’t worry about him. We need to leave. Where’s your things?”
“Will you stop?” Sara hissed. “Francis didn’t leave me, you idiot! He loved me.” Sara started sobbing once more.
“I don’t understand?”
Sara dropped her hands from her face, aiming her glare at me. “Francis is dead. Murdered!” Her accusing eyes sent chills spiraling down my spine.
Without warning, my stomach roiled, and I couldn’t stop the hurl. I dashed to the sink in the nick of time.
Weak and shaking at my knees, I rinsed my mouth and made my way back to the table. I eased down into a chair next to Sara. I pushed past my bout with queasiness and asked. “When did this happen?”
“This morning. I’d left Francis to take care of our ” Sara stopped, apparently hiding her shenanigans.
“How did Francis die?” An old acquaintance came to mind that I hadn't thought of in a long time, Charles.
“What difference does it make? He's dead!” Sara choked, barely able to speak. “I found him when I’d returned. He was lying in a river of blood. It was horrible!” She began sobbing, shoulders shaking.
Something told me that this nightmare was like a merry-go-round of eerie. I sat back, mulling over in my head about Charles and his unexpected death. “Mom, how did Francis die?”
“His throat was slit!” She wailed.
“Charles was killed the same way too.”
Sara didn't have to confirm my suspicions. I read it in the newspaper clipping she'd been hiding.
Sara’s head snapped up. “Why are you bringing up Charlie? I’m heartbroken over Francis!” She snarled, baring her teeth. “Stop badgering me with all these goddamn questions!” She pulled away from me with her back to me.
“I know Charles died the same way. Why can't you admit it?”
“What do you want me to say?” Sara tossed over her shoulder. “Yes! Charlie's throat got slashed.” The venom in her voice spewed. “Happy now?” I didn’t know why but it felt like the blame shifted to me.
“Mom, don’t you think it’s strange that both Charles and Francis are killed in the same way and then Dad’s death too? That’s three people who have been murdered in cold blood." I rose to my feet and stepped softly in front of Sara, kneeling. “Do you think someone from the Bane's family has been tailing us?” She had to know it was Bane.
Sara’s gaze finally latched hold of mine. Her eyes filled with rage. “It’s you and your father I have to thank for my miserable life!”
My eyes dropped to Sara’s hands. She was holding my cup, the cup that Dad had given me before he died. It was hard to miss, red hearts, a small chip broken off the handle. The mug contained no value, but to me, it was priceless. It was the last thing Dad had given me. Everything else, Dad’s pictures, all his personal possessions, Sara had burned. “You have my cup. Where did you get it?”
It was apparent that she’d been drinking. I could smell the Jack Daniel’s on her breath before I spotted the half-empty bottle of Jack Daniels on the table.
“You know, I never wanted children.” Deflecting my question, she spoke in a calm voice, almost a whisper. “Jon insisted. The doctors thought I had a blood disorder,” She caught my gaze. “It was easy. Blunt trauma to a newly pregnancy is an affected method of birth control.” Her lips twitched into a sneer as she pulled a pack of cigarettes from her pocket and a small box of matches. Calmly she struck the match and lit her cig, taking a huge drag, and then she blew the smoke straight at my face.
I quickly gathered to my feet and stepped back out of her range. I learned a long time ago that it was best to keep my distance when she was in one of her dark moods. I leaned against the counter, eyeballing her cautiously.
She flung the lit match at me, obviously to get a rise out of me. I didn’t flinch, willing myself to hold still. Why give her the satisfaction?
Sara went on with her baleful spiel. “Your father just wouldn’t give it up.” She took a long, thoughtful drag on her cigarette. I watched in silence. The cherry of the cigarette illumed. Quietly, Sara flicked the ashes on the floor as she forcefully blew out a long stream of gray smoke.
Then her odious eyes targeted me. “Not until someone from his family approached me did I reconsider giving your father a child. The gentleman was a distinguished diplomate of Jon's family.” She flashed a wicked smile. “I only agreed to do it for the money. I never wanted you, and I am glad to be rid of the burden.” Her face twisted into someone unrecognizable. “Why are you here anyway? I handed you over to him.”
“Don’t worry. I won’t be staying.” A raw and primitive grief overwhelmed me. “You sold me to a monster!”
“What’s a few bruises when you have the world at your feet.” Sara raked her eyes over me as her mouth twisted in disgust. “I think you got the better deal. You’re as frumpy as they come.” She took another drag off her cigarette. Then she broke down sobbing, tears streaming. “Francis is dead! What am I going to do now?” Sara pressed her hand over her face convulsively.
Without thinking, I made a step toward her, but then my instinct stopped me. I wanted to wrap my arms around her, to soothe her, but my better sense warned me against that notion. Sara wouldn’t have welcomed me. She never cared for my affection.
A sense of hopelessness devoured my mind, my whole existence. Even though I reminded myself of Sara's illness, it didn’t make her words hurt any less.
Suddenly Sara flung the cup across the floor with mighty force. I stood there gaping incredulously. She had taken the
last cherish thing of Dad’s, breaking it into broken pieces.
In a frenzy, I fell to my knees, tears streaming. I swept the ceramic shards in my palm, hoping to salvage my cherished mug.
Then unhinged anger coursed through my blood. I jerked my gaze up at Sara, slowly rising to my feet. “What did we ever do to you to deserve such loathing from you?” My fist clenched to my side.
Sara’s eyes shot at me like razors. “I never wanted this life.” She clamped down on her lips and then she released her venom. “I thought Jon was wealthy. Good Gad!” she scoffed. “He went to an ivy league college, Yale, for Pete’s sake!” Sara threw her arms up, enraged. “How the hell did I know he’d planned to disown his family?” she sputtered. “The son of a bitch didn’t tell me until we were married.” Sara snorted a laugh. “The honeymoon from hell. No electricity, no water and no luxurious get-away. I. Hated. Him!”
“I don’t understand how you can be so heartless. I feel like I’ve been spinning my wheels in mud. All I’ve ever wanted from you is your love. But you’re incapable of such a human emotion. You can’t see past your freaking nose. You’ve never been a mother to me! You love that goddamn bottle more than you love yourself!” Whether it stemmed from her mental illness or her sociopathic nature, it really didn’t matter any longer. I was done.
Sara’s eyes boiled with rage. “That’s right! I didn’t act like your mother because I'm not. We are not even blood. Oh, knock that look off your fucking face. You had to have known that I wasn't your biological mother.”
“What?” Shock rampaged over me like an avalanche. Suddenly I felt something wet on my hand. I glimpsed down, and blood was dripping from my right fist. I’d been gripping a broken piece from the mug in my hand. I dropped the piece to the floor, standing in a stupor, numb over Sara’s mind-shattering confession.
“I didn’t stutter.” Asinine interlaced her voice.
“Did I ever know the real you?”
“I’m tired.” Sara evaded my question. “I assume you know the way out.” Her voice was empty, cold and unfeeling. She rose to her feet, a bit wobbly. “Go make a life for yourself with that young man. He actually cares about you.” Without another word, she snatched up the half-empty bottle of Jack and moved past me, heading for the stairs.
Silently I watched her drag herself upstairs. As if Sara had aged ten years in minutes, she appeared broken and withered. Funny, I’d thought of her as beautiful, glistening blond hair and sparkling hazel eyes, full of life. Now, she seemed old and haggard.
Despite her disdain, I stilled loved her. She was my mother, good or bad, blood or not.
Once I heard her bedroom door shut, I spun on my heels, raking my fingers through my damp hair. I wanted to implode. No clue to what I should do next.
Then it hit me. Call me crazy or stupid but the one person that came to mind was the only one who made sense. Bane!
I tugged on my cell from my pocket. I held my breath that it might be soaked through and useless. “Oh, God!” It lit up. My hands trembled as I punched his number.
On the first ring, he answered. “Where the fuck are you?”
I swallowed hard. “I’m at my house. I need you to come here as soon as you can. Bring the angel dust.”
“What?” The phone on his end became silent.
“Just bring it!”
I heard him breathing on the other end. Then he replied. “All right! I’ll be there shortly. Don’t leave, do you understand me?”
“I’ll wait for you, but come alone.” I sternly demanded.
Then I heard a click and my phone went dead.
I collapsed to the wood floor, drawing my knees into a fetal position. The coolness of the floor seemed to comfort me as I shut my eyes trying to close myself off from the world. Regardless, my mind wouldn’t stop. Like a broken record, it kept rewinding, repeating over and over. "Give yourself up to the darkness." No one could help me now. Not even Ms. Noel. I had to look to Bane for the answers. If it was true that he wanted me dead, then so be it. I’d do anything to get past this nightmare.
***
I opened my eyes and sat up inhaling a frayed breath. Every part of my body protested in pain. I'd fallen asleep, but it felt more like a fifth of moonshine and an ass kicking.
Straightaway, a loud banging came from the door that could have woke the dead.
I picked myself off the floor and darted for the living room. I flew the door open, and there stood Bane, looking angrier than ever. He stood mountainous in a trench coat, a couple of unruly curls hung in his face, water dripping off his body. His blues were dark and menacing.
He stepped in pushing past me. With his back to me, he breaks the momentary silence. “I’m assuming the dust is for your mother.” He pulled out a small bag of glittery white powder.
My eyes dropped to the strange substance. “That’s what you used on Jen and me?”
“I don’t have time to argue with you. Where is Sara?” His voice was as forceful and grave as the storm.
I wrapped my arms around my waste. “Look! I just want her to forget about today.” I paused. “Francis was murdered. She’s taking it hard.”
Our eyes collided. “I’m quite aware of Francis’ misfortune. Wait here.” He turned to head upstairs. Quickly I wrapped my fingers around his sleeve, halting him. “I’m not letting you out of my sight around my mother!”
Bane paused giving me a long hard look. His jaw twitched. “Either you want this or not?” His glint reassured me his patience was threadbare.
I glared back at him just as forceful. “Sara needs to forget Francis. She can’t handle another tragedy, another loss.” The knot in my throat squeezed.
Bane’s blues reminded me of the tumultuous sea, menacing, and dark.
“Why do you bother with her? Sara doesn’t deserve your kindness.”
I struggled to keep my voice from quavering. “She’s my mother. Isn’t that enough?”
For what seemed forever, Bane and I stood, locked in a gaze, eyes frozen on each other. Even after discovering his true identity, his conspiring to kill me, and protecting the murderer of my father, I still loved him. How sick was that?
Bane broke our trance and started up the stairs. He tossed over his shoulder at me, “Let’s get this over with before I change my mind.”
I stayed right on his heel as we both entered Sara’s room. Just as I’d expected, she had passed out, laying spread out on the bed, half on, half off. I spotted the liquor bottle on the nightstand. She’d polished it off.
Bane started to make his way to Sara’s side until I wrung my fingers around his coat sleeve. He spun around glaring at me. “What now?” he snapped sharply.
“How well are you up on your pharmaceuticals?” My eyes darted to the small bag of sparkles clenched in his palm. “What the hell is that stuff.” My conscience gnawed at me something fierce. I bit down on my indecisive lip.
Bane's blues were as frigid as the North Pole. “This isn’t your run of the mill drug. In fact, it’s not even known to mankind.”
“Apparently, not entirely.” I hissed.
“It’s a mystical component made of rare fey jewels. It’s crushed into fine particles like sand or dust.”
“It looks like glitter.”
A glint of sarcasm pranced in his blues. “Princess, this isn’t glitter, and it isn’t a fucking story-tale either. This little bit of dust known as angel dust can wipe out an entire race. It’s no toy, baby-girl.”
“I know it will wipe a person’s memories.” I shot him a baleful glare. “Can you erase her memories of Francis without killing her?” I had a sick feeling about this. But I feared if Sara didn’t get any relief, she might commit suicide.
“I’ll give her enough for her to sleep a few days. With the amount of liquor, she’s ingested,” He nodded to the empty bottle. “The worst scenario is that she’ll wake up with a hangover.”
I bit down on my bottom lip to the point of almost drawing blood. I raked my fingers through
my tangles. “Okay! Do it and then get rid of that fairy-shit!”
Bane nodded. His face void and remote as he made his way to Sara’s side, I watched in silence.
There were tale-tell signs that even in Sara’s sleep she mourned deeply for her loss. I hoped the dust would give her time to heal that when her memories returned, she might be stronger to handle the grief.
I watched as Bane carefully dropped a few sprinkles in his hand and chanted words in Latin as he made odd hand gestures, and then gently dropped the dust over Sara’s body. Though I didn’t understand one word, I sensed the words impacted a strong connotation.
As soon as he finished, swiftly, he was on his feet and down the stairs, heading out the door. I ran after him, yelling. “Aidan, stop!” I pleaded. As if my words fell upon a mute, he kept on going. It wasn’t until I reached his car did I catch up with him. “Stop, Aidan Bane Du Pont! I overheard your conversation with Dr. Van Dunn. Your uncle!” I was panting, rain beating my face, blurring my vision. I kept talking to his back. “If you want my life then take it!” I yelled. “I have nothing else to lose.” A dagger to the heart would’ve hurt less than his betrayal.
Bane pivoted on his heels, glaring as if he wanted to devour me.
“Well! What are you waiting for, here I am? Take me!” I slung my arms out.
In a millisecond, Bane charged me like a bullet. I flinched, blinking, expecting death. In one quick flash, he’d spun me into his arms.
The best way I could describe what happened next as if scooped up in the eye of a tornado, cinched tight in Bane’s arms, we spun round and round, speeds beyond anything I’d ever experienced. I felt like Dorothy in Oz, minus the house.
Only You
When we stilled, I quickly concluded that I wasn't in the Land of Oz; instead, Bane and I were back at the fireflies’ nest or so it seemed.
The atmosphere appeared thicker, no breeze. The trees were calm, and the bugs were quiet.
Once Bane released me, I staggered backward, almost losing my balance. I would have if not for his quick reflex, catching my elbow and steadying my feet.