I know it’s long overdue, I know that I need to do this, but I can’t help but feel more vulnerable than I have in years as I step closer and closer to that which I have dared not enter.
Even Demon Lords could not have this kind of effect over me.
I reach the double glass French doors that lead out onto the lawn and tread out onto the grass, my ponytail blown from my neck, a cool breeze catching me in its clutch as it swirls around the grounds. The sky is clear baby blue, airy, and welcome as opposed to the oppression of bloodier tones.
The blades of slick wet grass caress my feet, and the bottoms of my jeans become sodden with early morning dew.
My heart grows heavy as I approach the weathered white marble mausoleum, keeping my eyes fixed on my feet and the fine white petals of the rose in my palm. I exhale, trying to calm myself, trying to ready myself, but I know deep down there’s no way I can ever be ready.
As I climb the two small marble steps and pull open the door into the tiny structure, grateful for the cooler temperature within the walls, my blood is scalding in my veins. As I enter, I see the graves in the floor.
There are sconces surrounding them, all of which are barren of flame, of light or warmth, so I wave a hand, lighting them all with red fire, which gives the place an intimate glow.
I take a step forward, dropping to my knees before the brass plaques set into the floor, one for my mother and one for my father. I reach out, letting my fingertips trace the curve of the font engraved into the metal, allowing the cool substance to comfort me as I stare down on their names.
“So… I know I haven’t visited in a while... well, ever. I’ve been afraid. Afraid to miss you more than I already do,” I whisper, placing the rose in the space between the plaques, wondering if I’m crazy for talking to two people I know are gone. Maybe I am, but it’s making me feel less devastated, so I guess there’s that.
“I guess, I just wanted to say… well, thank you. For everything you did and sacrificed to build my future. I didn’t know what that meant before. But now, I know the truth, well… I know that you did all of that for me. So… thank you.” I’m repeating myself, so I turn, making sure that the door of the mausoleum is closed. The last thing I need is someone observing my pain.
“Mom… I also know about Haedes, and while I don’t think I’ll ever love him like you did, I know he’s not a bad man. But… he’s not my family. Dad… you did terrible things. Terrible things. But you did them for me and out of love. So perhaps… perhaps they’re not so terrible. I love you both, and I’m sorry about the fire.” I feel tears run down my cheeks, cleansing me of the guilt that has been lying beneath the surface for quite some time.
I sit and cry for a moment, letting the last twenty or so years come back to me in a flood of isolation and loneliness. I am an orphan, and nothing will ever change that or make it less devastating, or less a part of who I am.
“Anyway, I just wanted to let you know, I’m going to do my best to keep the business going, maybe even do some good. I just want to make you proud.” I wipe under my eye, heart breaking in my chest as I place a kiss on my fingers and then press them to each name in turn.
“I love you.” I whisper, getting back to my feet.
I stand for a while, in the glow of flickering sconces, wondering why I have been so afraid to come in here for so long. I don’t feel worse. I don’t feel the loss. I feel better in fact, like they’re here almost. Like I’m the closest I’ve been to them since I was six years old.
I turn my back on the graves, walking from the mausoleum and back across the lawn, my heart finally starting to heal itself after all this time.
I sit at a conference table in the east wing, looking over the mail that has come through since I’ve been away. Large cerulean curtains are framing the windows, having been opened for the first time in forever, and the chandelier is lit with The Eternal Flame, courtesy of my newfound powers. The room is covered in dust covers and is in disuse, but if I’m going to run this business, then Jules and I will have to change all that. In fact, I have half a mind to redecorate the entire estate. I need to make it my own; I need to start living in the present and not in some shell of my childhood memories.
Pondering the many interior design possibilities that could be tackled with my enormous amounts of spare cash, I turn on my cell phone for the first time since I got home, finally feeling ready to face my responsibilities.
I haven’t seen Peter yet but expect to find apologetic texts or calls from him, pleading for my forgiveness. Instead I find nothing from Peter, only about two hundred missed calls from the same number as before my little trip down under… but like, really down under.
Who on earth is wanting to get in contact with me so badly they’d call this many times?
Curiosity piqued, I press the redial button, putting the phone up to my ear as I start to open legal documents from my lawyer’s office, which have arrived while I’ve been on the run.
The phone rings several times, until someone on the other end picks up.
“Hello?” I call into the speaker, hearing the sound of breathing coming from the other end of the line. After a few seconds, the caller hangs up, and I take the phone away from my ear, frowning down at it in confusion.
What the fuck?
Blocking the number, I go back to opening my mail, ignoring what’s just happened and scanning through some documents about foreign assets involved with The Sinclair Estate.
Jules, carrying my breakfast tray over to me from earlier, comes in through the double wooden doors
“You should eat something,” he scolds me, so I give him an appreciative and thankful look.
“Good idea.” I agree, lifting the cloche as soon as he places the tray down on the long table and picking up a fork. Today he’s made me pancakes. I can’t help but smile, knowing he’s trying to make up for my lack of food down in Mortaria.
“Oh, these also came for you,” he states, walking out of the room. He returns after a few minutes as I’m shoving blueberries into my face, an enormous vase of red roses in his hands.
He plops them down on the table, water jiggling with his motion, and I cock my head, confused.
“Who are they from?” I ask, and he shrugs.
“I don’t know; there’s no card, or note. Not even the delivery guy knows. This is the third delivery we’ve had this week,” he expresses, and I frown.
“That’s weird. Maybe they’re from… Haedes?” I guess, wondering if they’re supposed to be some kind of apology. I mean, they’re phenomenal flowers, even if they are littered with romantic connotations, and so I wonder if he’d cut them from my Mother’s garden. A form of apology perhaps? Because lord knows Haedes could never apologise to anyone face to face, let alone me.
“Maybe. I don’t know. What would you like to do with them?” he asks me, and I shrug.
“Put them on the mantelpiece in here. I have a feeling I’m going to be spending a lot of time at this table; there seems to be a tonne of paperwork to go through. Did you call the lawyer?” I ask him, and he nods.
“Yes, he’ll be here at six o’clock this evening. May I ask why you need a lawyer?” he enquires, but I shake my head.
“You may not,” I reply, not giving anything away.
“Anything else I can do for you then?” he enquires, and I smile.
“You can start unpacking all the rooms actually. I’m sick of the dust covers… and well, the dust that comes with them. I want this place to be my home, not just a fancy ass building filled with shitty memories. Got it?” I assert myself, and he bows his head.
“That is a wonderful idea,” he agrees, pivoting on the spot like a soldier and bustling over to the door. “I’ll just go and get my feather duster. Anything to drink?” he asks me, and I grin.
“I’ll have water, thanks.”
The meeting with the lawyer seemingly takes forever, but after it’s all done, and I’ve signed on the dotted line, I’m glad it’s over and ta
ken care of. I return to my bedroom, thoughts of the last few weeks stirring round slowly in my brain. I haven’t had any alcohol since I got back from Mortaria, and I wonder why I no longer find it appealing.
I change into white silken pyjamas, petting Cerb as he curls up on the end of my bed, and I turn in for an early night. A knock at the door comes, startling me.
“Come in,” I call, as the door swings open and Jules steps inside. The entire room is overcome with a warm glow; I’ve got my bedside light on, and am perusing some interior design magazines with my laptop open beside me where I’m looking at colour schemes and ideas. I’m thinking that the pink definitely has to go, and black definitely needs to make a comeback.
“Oh… I thought you’d be heading out.” Jules looks startled, and I shake my head.
“Nah, I have a lot of work to do if I want to redecorate this place and start taking over the business,” I remind him. He nods, looking mystified but content as he straightens inside his suit.
“Everything go alright with the lawyer?” he asks me, and I smile.
“Yes, fine, thank you,” I reply, still not giving anything away. It’s none of his business, after all.
“Right, well uh, I’ll see you in the morning?” he asks, and I nod.
“Yes, I have a director’s meeting at seven in the morning, so I’ll need an early breakfast and some coffee,” I inform him, and he nods.
“Goodnight.” He dismisses himself, leaving the room and shutting the door behind him as I go back to looking at the magazines and my laptop screen. Cerb snuggles up to me, and I smile.
“See, boy, normal can be kind of nice,” I admit, realising that perhaps drama and excitement is just a way to put meaning into my life because I’m craving something more fulfilling.
My thoughts flit to Xion, which I’ve been trying to avoid by keeping as busy as possible the last few days. I miss his stoic presence, his unwavering calm despite the fact that things are always uncertain. I even miss his crappy taste in music and his ridiculously uncouth demeanour, as hilarious as that sounds coming from me who had taken the piss out of him at every opportunity.
He had been there for me in unwavering loyalty at a time when everyone and everything else seemed hostile, and now, I’m taking a new direction going forward. I know I’m doing the right thing by including him in it, even in the smallest of ways.
I wish he was here, in fact I kind of wish that I’d met him under different circumstances. Perhaps if I’d met him in a night club, though I would never have seen the duty bound rugged strength of the man he is, or perhaps I’d never have known what an amazingly dark sense of humour lies beneath his handsome exterior.
I don’t need him. I have perhaps never needed him.
The question still remains though, unanswered in the back of my mind, niggling away day and night. It is only now though that I let it rise to the surface.
But do I want him?
I sigh out as I shut down my laptop and toss the magazines to the floor, finding myself flipping aimlessly past the entire section devoted to grey knit throws.
He got to me, no doubt about it. I do care about him, even if I’d rather that I didn’t.
Unfortunately for me, we’re dimensions apart, and I’ll never see him again.
Perhaps it’s for the best.
After all, if there’s a prophecy telling you to stay away from one person in particular, you should probably listen.
Chapter Thirty One
Sexual Healing
SEPHY
The meeting lets out, at long last, and I walk from the conference room, sweating at the unexpectedly non-existent heat of the day. I don’t know whether it’s the fact that I’ve got fire running in my veins now or if it’s because the high collar of my blouse under my new tailored suit is choking me out. Either way, I feel a desperate urge to strip naked and lie in the middle of a frozen lake. Though this might scare onlooking Eskimos.
Peter ambushes me in the hallway.
“Sephy! There you are. I just wanted to let you know that I found uh…” he lowers his voice as several directors walk past us, greeting me as they go, “my opal dagger. I found it on the table. I’ve returned it to the higher security confines of the room upstairs, the one near my office. You shouldn’t just go leaving that around you know.” I give him a blank stare, confused as to why he’s telling me this or why he’s giving me a damn lecture after everything. Not a word of greeting or apology for his behaviour, just some useless information and a scolding I don’t want or need.
“Alright. Uh, thanks,” I reply coldly, brushing him off and walking past him before he can say another word.
I make my way up the grand staircase, seeking the solitude of my suite after a long day of hashing out business, which is seemingly the slowest moving on the planet. I mean, it’s no wonder half the people on my board of directors look ancient; I have no doubt that they’re probably having the very life sucked from them by the mere amount of paperwork they look over each and every day.
I turn left at the top of the staircase and proceed through to my suite. Here, I instantly unbutton my blouse, pick up a glass of chilled white wine, which is sat on a silver tray by my bedside, no doubt a thoughtful touch by Jules, and move over to my Vinyl record player. Opening the cabinet on which the turntable stands. I browse the collection inside, a smile gracing my lips as I come across one record in particular.
Marvin Gaye’s Greatest hits.
Shrugging, I slip it out of the cardboard case and place it onto the black platter, moving the cartridge and stylus so it’s able to track the grooves of the vinyl.
Marvin Gaye’s sweet, soulful voice echoes out into the room, and I stand against the door of my walk-in closet, sipping white wine and closing my eyes as I cool off in just my black lacy bra and long black slacks.
It’s a rare moment of calm in my new world where my phone is constantly ringing and people are looking to me for all the answers. Hell, I’ve only been doing this like two days, and I’m already exhausted.
I sigh out, opening my eyes as a familiar voice calls my name.
“Sephy?” I jump slightly, my head turning and finding Xion in the doorway, tentatively looking through the gap where I’ve left it ajar.
“Jesus! You scared me! What are you doing here?! What, does playing Marvin summon you now or something?” I exhale, giggling as I am unable to help but grin the most genuine smile I have since my return. I take several strides forward, practically skipping over to the door to let him in.
This really is a surprise I didn’t even realise I needed today.
“No… I, I quit, working for Haedes,” he explains, and I see the bag on his shoulder.
“Planning on renting out my bathtub now? Because you know I’d really rather you take one of the spare rooms.” I offer him nothing less than what he’d shown me, hospitality in my time of need. He sighs out, looking relieved.
“Oh, I was worried you’d turn me away,” he exhales, and I feel my expression drop.
“I’d never do that to you! Come on, Xion. I know I can be a bitch, but Jesus, I’m not having the man who tried and failed to save me from a demon hoard, and trashed a perfectly nice car in the process might I add, out on the street. What kind of monster would I be?” I cock my head, letting my hair tumble down from the clip which I’ve had tying it loosely up off my neck.
“I shouldn’t have doubted you; it’s just… I don’t know. I don’t fit into this world anymore. I’m actually terrified,” he admits, and I grab his hand, pushing him to sit on the bed.
“Listen here, it may have been the Marv that brought you here…” he scowls and interrupts me.
“Actually, that was just a coincidence.”
“Mhmm, you keep telling yourself that.” I take a deep slug of wine and smile at him. “Anyway, you do have a place. I’ve got a vacancy for a security guard slash luggage boy slash chauffeur open right now. My last one left me high and dry. Asshole.” I wink at him, and he exha
les.
“You’re offering me a job?” he asks, and I nod.
“If you don’t mind playing security guard for a girl who can look after herself, mind you,” I remind him, and he exhales heavily.
“Thank you.” His gratitude is more than evident as he slumps, like all the tension has suddenly left his body.
“Look, it’s okay if you missed me; you don’t have to come to me with some sob story ya know…” I tease him, and he rolls his eyes.
“Actually, you are the reason I quit. Your father paid me a visit and left with a black eye,” he reveals, and I try not to laugh.
“Oh Jesus, did you take them out and measure? If so, I wanna know about his lower body hair situation because you know I’m still curious about that…” I’m flying high on a concoction of wine and feeling comfortable in my own skin. My life is heading where I direct it, I’m finally becoming the woman my parents knew I could be, and more than anything else, I’m actually happy to be alive, know it’s worth, and don’t see it like a punishment which has caused me so much isolation. To top it all off, my loneliness might even be coming to an end as Xion makes one hell of a partner when it comes to banter.
“He tried to blame me for you leaving,” Xion explains, and I snort.
“You’re kidding, right? He sentences me to death at the hands of some raging demons, and it’s your fault? Wow… mature.” I feel the shock of this settle in.
Why can’t Haedes take responsibility for his own screw-ups?
“Besides, you’re the only person who could have made me stay,” I admit, biting my bottom lip.
At this, I hear a knock at the door, interrupting the flow of conversation between us. I turn, leaving Xion perched uncomfortably on the end of the bed, still in only my bra and suit trousers, and move over to the door. Opening it, Jules is revealed.
The Opal Blade (The Ashen Touch Trilogy Book 1) Page 44