I look back to Mark and Lucy to ask them if they noticed anything weird, but they're talking to each other and not even looking this way.
“Hey,” I call to them. “You guys wanna spend the night at my house?”
27
CONFESSIONS
As the limousine pulls up to my house, Lucy sucks in her breath. “Nice castle! Where'd you hide the princesses?”
“I buried them in the garden out back.”
She laughs. “That was morbid. Should I be worried?”
“Nah. Your brother would kill me if anything happened to you.”
“You really live here?” Mark says, ignoring our banter. “It's… I mean, it's so…”
“Big?”
He nods. “Thanks for paying that messenger to tell our mom we'd be staying over. The last thing we need is another repeat of Friday with her worrying.”
“Yeah,” I say. “No problem. Hey, before we go in, I want you guys to know I can't promise you a good time. My parents are… well, let's just say they aren't as open as I am to strangers.”
“You mean Losers,” Lucy says. “Like Mark and me.”
“I have a confession to make: I wasn't supposed to invite you guys over. I was supposed to forget all about you after tomorrow, but there might not be an 'after tomorrow' for Mark and me if we lose. Even if we win, I have a feeling life is going to change for us in ways we can't even begin to imagine. I don't know what's going to happen, but I want you both to know we'll always be friends. No matter what. Hanging out together these past few days has meant a lot to me.”
“Thanks, man!” Mark says. “I appreciate that.”
Lucy smiles, but it seems sort of sad, and I wonder if she's still upset about whatever bugged her at the gym or if it's something I said―or didn't say.
I tell them to just ignore my parents if they're rude and enjoy the rest of it. When we get inside, James looks puzzled by my guests, but warms when I introduce them as my friends. He escorts them to my room, but I stay behind to talk to my parents in the living room. They don't seem happy at first, but when I explain about the Temple's interest in the rematch and how bad things can get, they agree that giving Mark and Lucy one night of luxury isn't really too much to ask. Mom leaves, but I hear her outside the door telling James to “lock up the good silver.” I roll my eyes and turn to leave, but Dad stops me.
“This is my fault,” he says.
“What? No, Dad! It's not. It's because of me―what I did the other night. Breaking curfew.”
“I've been frustrated dealing with the Temple's red tape. I may have said and done some things that could have been interpreted unfavorably by the priesthood.”
“You mean the Inquisition?”
Dad sighs and pours himself a glass of whiskey. “Being a businessman isn't easy. This house, Eaves Oil, everything I've built, there's been a price to pay. Maybe I just got sick of paying it. Maybe I thought I had the power to change things, to make things better. I wish I did, but the priests always find a way to stop me… Only sometimes, it's not even them. Sometimes, it's me. I built all this, and I'm afraid of losing it.” He drains his glass and pours another. “When you have everything, you tend to be cautious. You can't be bold enough when you're afraid for your family, for your business, when you see what can happen and how far you can fall.”
“That's not true, Dad. You've been plenty bold.”
“Not really. All I did was talk about change and pull a few shady deals. It felt like I was doing more. I thought I was doing it for you, for your mother, for the company, hell―even for the world―but really, I was doing it for my own ego so I wouldn't feel powerless. I'm sorry. I haven't been the best father. I've been cold, distant, but it never meant I didn't love you or wasn't proud of you.”
I hug him. “It's not your fault, Dad.”
“It is,” he says, and pulls away. He goes to the bar and tops off his glass.
I follow. “Look, even if it is your fault, it's not all yours. I still lost in gym. I still broke curfew. I screwed up.”
“There's no room for error in this world,” Dad says. “Sooner or later, the Eye of Cronus always spots it.”
“Yeah, but nobody's perfect.”
“That's the problem,” Dad says. “Everyone's trying to be, and everyone's failing, only no one wants to admit it. The world wants me to be the perfect man, the perfect husband, the perfect father… How can I be those things when I can't even be myself? I really screwed up.”
“Don't say that.”
“Why not, son? It's true. You know what the worst part is? I covered my tracks too good. The Inquisition can't get me, so they're after you instead. They want to use you to break me. It won't stop at the rematch tomorrow. Even if you win, they'll find a way to make our family lose. I swear, it's all some kind of sick game to them.”
“Everything's going to be all right.” I say the words because I want to believe them and want my dad to believe them. He seems to need them even more than I do. I've never seen him this sad, this vulnerable.
“There's more,” Dad says.
“What do you mean?”
“Not now. I shouldn't have said anything. It's just that if anything happens to your mother and me, check the safe.”
“The one in your home office?”
“No. I had another one installed. In the basement, hidden under the floor, beneath that pile of boxes in the corner opposite the furnace. The combination is the date you discovered oil on our old property. You remember?”
“Hard to forget. I guess I'm surprised you do.”
“I remember,” Dad says. “You're the whole reason Eaves Oil even exists. I'm sorry I haven't always acted like it. Your mother and I, well… you'll never know how grateful we are you came into our lives. You're more special than you know.”
Does Dad know I'm magic? Does he know what I am? Before I can ask, he says, “The safe in the basement―don't open it unless something happens to your mother and me.”
“Why? What's in it?”
“Nothing that will help you now. But if anything happens…” He coughs and looks out the bay window. Outside, the sun is setting, a blood-red smear behind the treeline.
“Dad…”
“No.” He finishes his whiskey and sets the glass on the bar top. “I shouldn't have brought it up; I don't mean to add to your worries. You need to focus on winning that rematch. Promise me you won't open the safe before it's time.”
“I promise.”
“And don't tell your mother I mentioned it.” Dad tries on a smile that doesn't quite touch his eyes; there's still too much sadness in it. “Go see your friends. Have fun. Dinner is in half an hour.”
I turn to leave, then hesitate in the doorway. “Dad, you and Mom will be at the rematch tomorrow, right?”
“Yes, son. We wouldn't miss it for the world.”
28
AFTER TOMORROW
Dinner is awkward, but my parents do their best to make Mark and Lucy feel welcome. Afterward, I give my friends a tour of the house and grounds, then we hang out in my room. I can't believe how long it's been since I've had anyone over. That feels weird enough, but what's even weirder is this may be the last time I'll even sleep here. Mark and Lucy chatter about how amazing my place is, and I know it must be to them, but to me, it's just home.
I never really appreciated Mom and Dad as much as I should have. And now that things are finally getting better, now that we're beginning to understand each other, is it too little, too late?
I pick up the rock I snatched out of the air yesterday morning. It's still flat, still smooth gray, perfect for throwing. My palm closes over it. Feeling its warmth, feeling…
“Hey!” Lucy says. “You weren't kidding. You really do love rocks.” She picks up a geode to study the crystals inside. “It's quite a collection.”
“Huh?” When I open my hand, the rock is gone. I look on the floor to see where I must have dropped it, but it's not there. “Um, did you guys see a rock
? I think I lost one.”
“What kind of rock?” Lucy asks.
“Just an ordinary gray one.”
Mark and Lucy help me look, but it's no use. The rock is gone. My right hand feels itchy. I scratch it, wondering what's going on.
James knocks, then tells us that the guest bedrooms are ready. I guess I must have looked guilty or scared because James asks if anything's wrong. I tell him no, but mention that one of the rocks from my collection is missing.
“I can help you look,” James offers.
“No, it's not important. It probably rolled under the furniture. I'll find it in a minute.”
“Very good, sir,” James says. “Your parents were quite insistent regarding you and your friends getting to bed at a decent hour. They want you well-rested for the competition.”
I yawn and stretch. “Mark, Lucy, I'll see you guys in the morning, OK? Oh, and it's great having you over. Hopefully, we can do it again.”
“If we win, you can bet on it,” Mark says. “Hey, we should have a party here. You know, really celebrate!”
I grin. “Yeah, I'd like that.” Then I remember I'm supposed to meet Hannah at the cave tomorrow, and my grin falters. Mark doesn't notice, but his sister does.
“Andrus?” Lucy asks, “you all right?”
I force the grin to come back, wider this time. “Totally. I was just thinking about the rematch, that's all.”
Lucy comes up and hugs me. “You can do it,” she says, then smiles at her brother. “You both can!”
That's how we end it―on a high, happy note. Minutes after she's gone, I can still feel Lucy pressed against me, still smell the delicate fragrance of her hair.
James appears in the doorway, coughing politely to get my attention. “I thought I'd come back and help you look for that missing piece of your collection.”
We search my room for the missing rock one more time, even moving the furniture, but still can't find it.
“Was it very valuable, sir?” James asks. “I can make inquiries of the household staff, particularly the maids…”
“That won't be necessary. It's not anything expensive. It was just some rock I found when I was coming home from Mark and Lucy's, but I don't know, it's got…”
“Sentimental value?” James fills in the blank. “Well, I can certainly see why. That Miss Lucy is quite attractive. Are you sure it was wise to bring her here? You do remember what we talked about? That your loving her won't leave her worse off than before she knew you?”
I feel the blood rush to my cheeks. “I―it's not like that,” I stammer. “I mean, we're friends, James. Nothing happened. I already told you that.”
James raises an eyebrow. “You mean nothing happened yet. And here she is, in a bed a few rooms away, and tomorrow is the day that will decide your fate. Don't let it decide hers too.”
“OK,” I say. “I get it. Did my mom put you up to this?”
James nods. “Your mother wanted me to remind you there was to be no 'funny business,' but the context I chose to put it in was mine. I think that while she and I both agree there is to be no fooling around, our motivations differ. Hers are for the family honor, while mine are for yours―and the girl's.”
“Thanks, James. It makes a lot more sense coming from you.”
He smiles. “I try to be of use. And if you'll pardon a change of subject, I want you to know that I wish I could there for you tomorrow at the rematch. Do you feel confident you can win?”
“Yeah,” I say. “I think so. It's what happens after that I'm worried about.”
“After? How do you mean, sir?”
“I wish I knew. But thanks for everything, James. You know I love you, right? You've been like a father to me.” We hug, and when we pull away, the old man's eyes are brimming with tears. “I'm going to free you,” I say. “Just as soon as I inherit.”
“I wouldn't even know what to do with my freedom,” James says. “The world outside these walls is a dangerous place. Where would I go? What would I do?”
I hadn't thought about that, only that it seemed like the right thing to do―but for him or me? There's real fear on his face.
“You wouldn't have to go anywhere,” I say. “Not if you don't want to. I'll pay you to stay here and do whatever you want. All I ask in return is a little of your famous advice now and then.”
“That's very kind, sir,” James says, but still seems uncomfortable with the idea. “But I've worked my whole life. I'd like to keep managing the house, if it's all the same to you. An estate this size doesn't run itself. I'd hate to see you taken advantage of by some scheming replacement.”
We leave it at that, but I'm determined I'll send James on a vacation some day. A surprise. Give him a chance to put his feet up for a few days at some quiet beachfront resort. It's the least I can do.
I shut the door and strip to my shorts. It's a hot night. I go to bed, but sleep won't come. I toss and turn, my thoughts alternating between Lucy, Hannah, the rematch, and what happens after. Finally, I drift off, but then I'm dreaming Lucy is in bed with me, snuggling up beside me in her night gown, her breath soft in my ear.
“Andrus,” the dream girl says. “Wake up.”
There's no way I want to, not with her lying next to me, but then I open my eyes and see she's no dream.
“Lucy,” I whisper. “What are you doing―”
She covers my lips with hers, and I try to resist, but she's so beautiful, so forbidden! It's crazy to resist, crazy not to take her in my arms… So I let it happen until it seems like it's going to go right to the edge, to that irreversible, screaming moment of desire when neither of us will be able to stop even if we wanted to.
I tear my mouth from hers. “No, Lucy! We can't.”
“Oh,” she says, pulling away. “I get it. I'm not good enough.” She goes cold, all the fire of seconds before extinguished in an instant.
I sit up, taking her hands in mine. “That's not it,” I say. “You're plenty good enough! Only my parents, your brother…”
“They don't have to know.”
“But we will,” I say. “And they'll find out somehow. I don't want them to think any less of you. You're too important.”
“I am?” she says. “You really think so?”
We kiss again, and it's electric, and even harder to stop. She's all soft skin and warm breath and I know she'll do anything for me, which is why I can't do anything to her. Not now, not like this.
“After tomorrow,” I say.
She places a slim hand on my chest and kisses me playfully. “After tomorrow, what, Andrus?”
“After tomorrow, we'll figure out a way to do this. To do us in a way that won't hurt anyone, especially not you.”
Lucy stops, and it's not the reaction I expect. She's gone cold again. Distant.
“What is it? What's wrong? I thought you'd be happy.”
“I am.” She sniffles. “I just never thought… no one's ever… I mean, I don't know. It's complicated.”
“Tell me about it.”
She smiles in the darkness, reaches down and pulls my hand to her face. She plants a kiss on my palm, then presses my hand to her cheek. “I wanted to be with you tonight, because tomorrow… well, we don't know what's going to happen. I don't want to have any regrets.”
“Yeah,” I say. “I don't want any either. That's what makes this so hard.”
“I could make a joke about that,” she says, “but I better not.”
“Probably for the best,” I agree. I like being with her here, the intimacy, the vulnerability.
“Andrus, I need to tell you something. About me.” She lets go of my hand, then pauses to adjust the straps of her night gown. “Today, at the gym…”
“What about it? I mean, I noticed you acting sort of weird, and how you kept drinking Mr. Cross's whiskey. What is it? Was it something I did?”
“No,” Lucy says, “it was nothing you did. It was something you said. A question you asked Mr. Cross.”
“About what?”
“About the priest―the one who's coming to watch tomorrow. You asked if his name was Anton.”
“Anton's with the Inquisition. He was at my house yesterday, and the Temple today.”
“I know. I saw him.”
“And you were afraid because he'll be at the rematch? Look, what happened at the Temple was horrible, but just because he turned that man into a worm doesn't mean he's going to do the same to Mark and me.”
Lucy hunches her shoulders and begins to cry. Her whole body shivers. “You don't get it!” she sobs. “You just don't!”
I put my arm around her. “I guess not. Why don't you tell me?”
There's a long pause and more tears before she can get the words out. “Andrus, Anton is the priest who raped me.”
29
ANOTHER REASON
“I’ll kill him!” My hands knot into killing fists. The fists I'll use to break Anton, to smash him into helpless pulp.
“No,” Lucy says. “That's not why I told you. Besides, you can't kill him. No one dies anymore, remember?”
“I don't care! I can still hurt him. I can make Anton wish he was dead.”
Lucy grabs my face with both hands. Looking deep into my eyes, she says, “No! It's too dangerous, Andrus, and even if you do hurt him, you'll have the rest of the Inquisition to deal with. I only mentioned it because… Anton cost me my future. I don't want him to take yours from you, and not from Mark―not after everything I sacrificed. You understand, right?”
“Yeah, but I can't let Anton get away with it. Somebody has to do something!”
“No,” she says, “not you. And certainly not now. Tomorrow is too important, and this isn't about Anton. This is about you, me, and Mark. What's best for us. Revenge…” she pauses, and I can see her wrestling with her emotions, “revenge, justice―whatever you want to call it―will have to wait. We may never get the chance, but if we do, we have to be smart about it. Promise me you won't do anything stupid. Promise me you won't do anything without telling me first.”
Titan: An Epic Novel of Urban Fantasy and Greek Mythology (The Gods War Book 1) Page 15