Marked for Vengeance (Book One: The Alyx Rayer Chronicles)

by Pierce, SJ

  She rolled to the side and watched as he slept. If she continued a relationship with him, she knew she would eventually need to let her fantasies go, which also meant, her late night visits to the rooftop. Her stomach dropped at the thought of it. Especially now, she didn’t know if she could muster the strength. To help shake the uncomfortable notion, she rolled delicately off of the bed to finish drying her hair in the bathroom, knowing when Benjamin awoke, he would want to make love again and then go back to his place to get ready for tonight.

  She searched through her drawers for a t-shirt and a pair of striped sleeping shorts. She never walked around naked, even in front of Benjamin. She had always been extremely careful not to let him, or anyone for that matter, see her scar. Her superiors commanded that the unusual marking stay hidden beneath their clothes and away from anyone’s inquisitive eyes. Even when in bed together, she would make sure the lights were off, and if his wandering hands traveled up her back, she would redirect them somewhere more distracting.

  She also didn’t wear tank tops or anything strapless out in public. Benjamin thought it was because she had ‘classy and demure’ taste, which he liked, so it worked. Years of hiding her scar had made her a pro. It was practically effortless.

  “Where are you off to?” he moaned as she opened the door to leave.

  “Bathroom,” she whispered. “Go back to sleep. It’s only nine thirty.”

  He grunted and wrapped the sheet around him in a tight cocoon. “Don’t forget to put the flowers in some water.”

  His sincerely concerned tone caused her to chuckle. “I’m on it.”

  * * *

  The next morning when Isaac awoke, the exhaustion from a restless night saturated him to the core. After Micah had gone back to bed, Isaac tossed and turned, replaying the disturbing scene his son created for him with his description of what had happened. He also felt partly to blame for Micah’s dreaming habits. As though it were a gene he had intentionally passed down.

  Rolling over one last time to try and get some sleep sounded appealing, but it was Sunday, and this was his and Micah’s day to do something fun together. He needed to get up and get moving. Usually, they went to eat breakfast at the Waffle House down the street, and then to Piedmont Park or a movie. One Sunday they took a road trip to the Georgia Mountains and spent the entire day hiking and sightseeing.

  He sat up in bed and glanced at his cell phone on the end table. Nine thirty. “Humph,” he grunted, assuming it was much earlier.

  He made his way to the bathroom for his morning routine, contemplating where to go for breakfast, when he heard Micah stir upstairs. “Morning, buddy! What do you want for breakfast?”

  A moaning voice answered. “Let’s eat here, I’m not feeling too good.”

  Isaac turned and rushed up the stairs.

  Micah sat on the edge of his bed, leaning foreword with his hands on each side of his head. By the way his face twisted into a grimace, Isaac could tell he was in pain. “Is it your head?” he asked in a low voice.

  “Yes, and I just don’t feel well.”

  Isaac placed his hand against his clammy forehead. It’s times like this that I miss Rachel, he thought. What would she have done? Medicine. “Let’s get you some Tylenol and a bite to eat. Omelet ok?”

  Micah gagged. “Definitely not anything with eggs. Maybe some cheese toast.”

  Isaac tousled his hair. “I can manage that.”

  * * *

  By mid-afternoon, Micah’s condition had improved. As Isaac worked in the studio on his painting, he cast a glance over his shoulder to check on him. Micah lounged on the couch with a soda in his hand, watching TV as he had been doing since after breakfast. Every time he looked at him, the color had slowly returned to his face, which now grinned at something amusing on the screen.

  Isaac turned to refocus on his work and chewed on the end of the paintbrush. Not going out with his son on a Sunday felt unnatural. “You want to go somewhere tonight?” he shouted and dipped the bristles in the green paint.

  “I’m not sure, dad. But maybe I would say yes if we can go see that new action movie we saw the preview for last night!”

  Isaac rolled his eyes with a grin. Micah desperately wanted to see it, but the movie was rated PG-13 and he couldn’t decide if it would be appropriate or not. Plus, he knew Micah used his sympathies for not going out today to his benefit -- and it worked. “Ok, you weasel. We’ll leave in an hour. And if you feel well enough, we can get a bite afterwards.”

  “Yes!” Micah cheered.

  “But clean up your room first.”

  “Yes, sir!”

  Isaac only had a few more strokes of green for the grass before beginning on the centerpiece of his creation; the unusual creature, who had permanently seared its image into his mind. He closed his eyes to recall her haunting face. Blurred, resembling a Monet. From far away you could tell she was attractive, but what overshadowed everything – including the dazzling night sky – were her eyes, her completely black, fiery eyes.

  When the last blade of grass stroked into place, he painted a heart-shaped face of fleshy pink and blew on it to encourage its drying. As it set, he chose a smaller brush with long, thin bristles and delicately tapped the end into the black paint for the outline of her eyes. His tongue curled over his top lip as he leaned closer to paint two small arches within the pink face and filled them in before adding white marks to make them shine.

  He stopped to assess what he had painted, and a smile toyed with his lips. The thrill of a vision coming to life on his canvas was what he lived for, his creative-self sated. If he merely lived to work and die, his soul would always thirst for something more. His paintings were an escape into the surreal, a way to cope with the humdrum of everyday life. With every well-placed stroke, he would escape further into whatever world he envisioned, its atmosphere a temporary break from reality. One way he was able to stay sane after losing Rachel and raising a child on his own.

  He picked up the brush with the flesh-colored paint and recreated her willowy neck and arms. The hair would be next, and her wavy lochs needed something to flourish around. Once complete, he rinsed the brush and mixed a dab of brown paint with the outer edge of the black to lighten the hue only slightly. Long, curvy strokes framed her face and fell around her shoulders, bringing his creature to life.

  He rinsed the brush again and dabbed it in the white. Her hair wouldn’t be complete without its distinguishing streak. With a light hand, the brush followed along the wave of her hair on the right side to the end of her mane, tainting her perfect tresses. He stood from the stool and stepped back a few paces to study his work. His many, careful brush strokes had officially brought his dream to life, and the image ran chills over his body. It was as if he was there again.

  Regardless of how unsettling the visual was, he felt the same gravitational pull to her still. Her fierce beauty almost possessed an angelic quality. “My Dark Angel,” he said in a hushed voice. That’s what I’ll call this painting.

  “Your dark WHAT?” Micah said behind him.

  Isaac jumped, dropping his paintbrush. “Dammit, Micah!” he yelled and wiped the paint that had spattered along his pant leg.

  Micah threw his head back, roaring with laughter.

  He spun around and jabbed him in the arm. “You think you’re so funny, don’t you, funny guy?”

  Micah wiped the tears from his eyes. “Dad seriously though, Dark Angel?”

  “Well it fits though, right? Look at her.”

  He studied the painting and shrugged. “I don’t know, dad. Whatever you say.”

  Isaac shook his head in frustration and waved him away. “Alright, off with you then. We’ll be leavin’ in a little.” God he reminds me of myself.

  He refocused on his masterpiece to find that his former creative inspiration had officially left. Micah had stolen the moment away. It was time to close up the studio until tomorrow.

  While twisting the caps onto the tubes of paint, he gla
nced at the skyline. The shadowy figure wasn’t there. It was too early in the day, but he could practically pinpoint where they stood. Next time I see it, I’m goin’ up there, he resolved. He strolled to the window and looked over the horizon. I bet it has it a nice view.

  As he daydreamed about who this person was, he stuffed his hands in his pockets and rocked back and forth on his heels. Was it a homeless man? A teenager? Maybe someone who needed to break from reality, the rooftop their retreat from the world.

  A wailing police cruiser went by on the street below, snapping Isaac back to reality. “I’m goin’ to get in the shower. Be ready to go in half an hour,” he yelled, turning toward the door.

  “10-4, dad!”

  * * *

  As Alyx perfected her make-up with the finishing-touches, she recalled Cindra’s assumption about what might happen tonight. She couldn’t fault her friend for her idealistic optimism toward nuptials, as any young hopeful would be, but Alyx had lived long enough to know that it wasn’t something to be taken lightly. With marriage came huge responsibilities, and besides, she simply wasn’t ready to get married yet. If he did, in fact, ask her tonight, she would let him down gently despite the hurt it would cause. She didn’t relish the thought, and if it were right to accept a proposal to spare his feelings, she would. As much as she loved Benjamin, she always believed that he loved her more.

  It was ironic that she felt a sense of responsibility not to lead him on with a commitment of forever, considering that sleeping with him and carrying on in a relationship was just as damaging. She justified all of this with the hope that her love would continue to grow and that she would eventually reach that destination of sealing the deal permanently, which also meant, coming to a point where she could let go of her ‘painter man’. But for now, as she sorted through her emotions, she rested on the hope that he wasn’t ready for marriage either.

  She swiped the wand of her mascara through her lashes for the third and final time and screwed the lid on tight. Maybe he won’t ask.

  While lifting the short train of her one-shouldered, ivory satin dress – the spoil of her conquest while at the outlets yesterday with Cindra – she scampered to her room to find a pair of shoes to match. Benjamin had texted that he would arrive in five minutes, and punctuality was important to him.

  She scanned her closet floor, and a pair of silver, strappy high heels caught her eye. These will do. She slipped them on and glided toward her dresser mirror to make sure nothing had been overlooked. The low, polished chignon she had duplicated from a hair magazine worked well with her elegant look, as well as displayed the diamond earrings Benjamin gave to her last Christmas. Perfect.

  The chiming of the doorbell announced Benjamin’s timely arrival, so she swung her shawl around her shoulders, grabbed her sequin clutch, and hurried gracefully to meet him so as not to disturb her creation. When she opened the door, the imagery stole her breath away. The tired, scruffy man that greeted her at the door that morning had morphed into a dapper gentleman with a black tuxedo and glossy wingtip shoes. His blonde hair shined from the gel he used to slick it to the side.

  Her painted lips parted to gush over his appearance, but as soon as Benjamin caught a glimpse of the sexy way the dress clung to her slim body, he grinned proudly from ear to ear. “Wow, babe! I’ll be fighting them off tonight.”

  Alyx blushed and kissed his cheek softly. “Thanks, love.”

  * * *

  On their way to the mystery dinner, Benjamin remained his normal, debonair self – much to Alyx’s relief. She concluded that if he were planning a proposal, he would be nervous and distracted and that it was ridiculous to let her fear of a proposal cause her to be anxious for no reason. He was a level headed man, and marriage after a year of dating would be something he frowned upon. I need to relax and enjoy tonight, she thought and pulled the visor down to powder her face.

  “How was your week, doll?” he asked to break the silence. Their escapades from earlier didn’t allow for much chit chat.

  “It was good,” she replied, dabbing the cotton applicator onto her forehead, “Fredrick had me working like a dog for the first part of the week, but by the end he slacked off. And Cindra and I went out yesterday for some ‘girl time’.”

  “Good. How is she?”

  “She’s great as always. I wish she would find someone, though. She deserves to have someone as great as she is.”

  Benjamin chuckled.

  “What’s so funny?” she asked as she swatted his arm.

  “Ouch!” he said playfully and rubbed where she had hit him. “Nothing, she’ll find someone when she’s ready. You worry about her too much.”

  Her chin dropped. “I do not!”

  “Alright then, just don’t hurt me again.”

  The farther they drove from her apartment, they seemingly also did from her issues surrounding her ‘painter man’. Now that Benjamin was in town, and they were enveloped in the comfortable banter she had come to love, the smaller her other quandaries became. Almost as if they were literally driving away from them, they shrunk by the second in the rearview mirror. This relieved her in a way, but also disturbed her from somewhere deep inside. In the same place she stored her secret desires for her ‘painter man’.

  Benjamin pulled into the Westin hotel parking lot, and a grin illuminated her face. The Sundial restaurant, from our first date. “You’re so slick.”

  “What can I say?” he crowed.

  The valet opened her door and helped her from the car. She bustled around the back of the Mercedes, and Benjamin met her at the curb with an extended hand. She loved nights like tonight, wearing fancy dresses and going out on the town. Being treated like a princess was easy to get used to.

  “Last name Forbes, reservation for two,” Benjamin told the hostess once they made it inside and up the seventy-three stories by elevator.

  The hostess’ smiling eyes scanned through the list. “Ok, Mr. Forbes, you guys follow Katrina. Enjoy your dinner.”

  “Thank you,” he said and motioned for Alyx to walk in front of him.

  With his hand placed on the small of her back, they wound through the white, linen web of tables and dim candlelight when Katrina stopped at an intimate table for two beside the window. “Here you are, enjoy!” When she turned to leave, she leaned into Benjamin’s ear. “You’re a very lucky man, she’s stunning.”

  “Yes she is,” he replied and pulled Alyx’s chair from the table.

  “You need to quit that!” Alyx said, blushing again from his persistent doting.

  As soon as he tucked the chair behind her, the Atlanta skyline arrested her attention. The clouds had parted after a brief shower that afternoon, and the buildings glittered as the setting sun reflected off of their windows in pink and blue hues. The Sundial would rotate them around and give them a three-hundred-and-sixty degree view of the mesmerizing scenery.

  Her elbow perched atop the table, and she rested her chin in her hand. “You know how to do it right,” she cooed.

  While the scenery outside enraptured her, Benjamin focused on the scenery across the table. The champagne color of the evening sunlight glowed against her skin and set the facets of her jewels ablaze. He reached across the linen and retrieved her hand so she would she move her peaceful gaze to his. When their eyes met, she witnessed a man on top of the world. His handsome face beamed with pride. “Your dimple is going to become permanent, you know,” she teased.

  As they grinned at each other in comfortable silence, their waiter interrupted the moment. “Good evening. My name is Douglas and I’ll be your waiter tonight,” he said with his hands clasped behind his back.

  They greeted him with a nod, and he rattled through the specials before promptly leaving so they could make their decisions.

  After they had placed their menus on the edge of the table, Benjamin flashed a devious smile. “Would you be interested in accompanying me back to my condo after dinner?”

  “I thought that was a give-in,
” she replied, grasping his hand again.

  “True, I just thought I would be a gentleman and ask.”

  “Well consider the invitation accepted.”

  * * *

  Alyx had forgotten how marvelous their food was. The filet mignon practically melted in her mouth, the garlic potatoes burst with flavor as she chewed, and the pinot noir the waiter suggested paired wonderfully, too wonderfully, in fact. She went through an entire bottle on her own.

  They eased back in their seats with satisfaction, and Alyx folded her hands over her stomach. “Can you carry me out of here?”

  Benjamin laughed as he dabbed the corners of his mouth with a cloth napkin. “You would think that you hadn’t eaten in weeks, by the way you ate.”

  Her eyebrow rose to a high arch. “Now that you mention it, my afternoon was kind of busy. I skipped lunch.”

  “I guess that would be my fault, wouldn’t it? But I have to say, I’m not incredibly sorry about that ma’am.”

  She leaned into the table as she grazed her stiletto over the round of his calf. “Neither am I,” she whispered.

  CHAPTER 4:

  Amongst the Clouds

  Isaac and Micah pushed through the double doors of their complex to head for their car when Isaac noticed a man in his peripherals to the left of the entrance. It was the same man in a black suit he had run into the day before, and he stood like a statue with his arms by his side. Isaac nodded toward him as they passed, but the man did nothing in return to acknowledge his kind gesture. He only stared into the air in front of him in a daze. What a prick.