by A. R. Mummey
Chapter Twelve
We stopped off at work where seeing Madison and Jackson brought home the fact that they were surreal to me now. The past few weeks had upheaved every idea of what normal meant.
Madison cooed over Heath, clearly distressed by his rather rugged and grumpy appearance. They headed outside to talk, which left me to soothe Jackson’s ruffled ego. He hugged me briefly, looking distraught at my arrival, and pulled me upstairs for a brief chat. We sat in the manager’s office in awkward silence as Jackson drummed his fingers on the desk, looking everywhere but at me.
“What’s wrong? Has something happened?” I couldn’t bear the awkwardness any longer.
He cleared his throat, finally bringing his gaze to rest on me. “Yes. I wanted to wait until you came back to talk to you about this. There’ve been some things in motion while you’ve been away.”
“Okay … such as?” I felt my stomach clench.
“I’ve been tasked by management to go over this with you. I want you to know that I’m on your side.”
“Jackson. What’s going on?” I could feel my breath becoming uneven, panic swelling in my chest.
“Madison’s really been stepping up to the plate while you’ve been gone. She’s been a real trooper. I don’t know if you’re aware, but she’s been running customer service in your place. There’s a lot of changes happening here. That being said, before your accident and everything, the past few months you’ve become increasingly despondent. Harsh even. There’ve been some complaints.”
My heart sank deeper into my chest. “Complaints? You never said anything. No one ever said anything.” I paused for a moment as my upper lip began to tremble. “A-a-a-m I being fired?” The words strangled my throat.
“No. Not fired. Management … we feel that a change would be best. You hate customer service. Maybe a different department, less responsibility, especially now, after everything that’s happened to you. Maybe that would make you happier. It’ll be good for you.”
“I’m being demoted. What? I don’t understand. I’m good at my job. No. I’m great at my job!” Panic crept into my voice.
“Lorelei. You are great on the business side of things. You are, technically speaking, the best. You’re a great trainer. But you can come across as rude. You may not realize it, but you look upset even when you’re not. You can be harsh when you’re critiquing people or when a customer crosses you. Besides, you’ll be graduating soon. This was never permanent for you. Do you see what I’m saying?”
“No. No, I don’t. I always thought that you thought I was good at my job. That you respected me. Valued my opinion. I trained Madison. Me. And now you’re just giving her my job. I’ve given everything to this company. I took quarters off school because my schedule didn’t coincide with what you wanted me to work here. And now you’re using school to help fire me. I’ve done everything that’s been asked of me, and you’re sitting there saying I’m losing my job because I’m too harsh. Is it too harsh to tell a bagger to go on lot and push in carts? Is it too harsh to tell everyone to clean when there’s down time? This is a business. Since when is it my job to coddle these people? Do Anabel and Theo know?” My voice was rising, body shaking.
“You’re not being fired … and, no, they have no idea. This is an opportunity, Lorelei. You know I respect you. You know I think of you like one of my own.”
“Don’t, don’t do that. Don’t try to play on my emotions.”
“Lorelei. Trust me. This is what’s best.”
“For who? For you? For Madison? Because, for me, it’s a demotion and a loss of pay. So show me documentation. Show me proof, Jackson. Because we’re union, and I’m out on a temporary medical leave. My job is still mine when I come back. You can’t just take it from me without a paper trail. I’ve played Union Steward enough times to know that.”
“Lorelei. You’re being unreasonable.”
“Unreasonable. Do you hear yourself? I’m up here, off the clock, without a union rep. You didn’t even ask me if I wanted one. So this conversation isn’t even real according to union standards because a member of management has to be here since we’re both union and you don’t possess the ability to take away my job, Jackson.” I slapped my hand against the desk in a show of defiance. To my horror, little blue sparks flickered off my hand. I heard a sharp gasp and looked at Jackson. He stared at me quizzically, looking at me and then at my hand, and back at me.
“Did you … did you see that?”
“See what, Jackson? Don’t change the subject,” I surged on, ignoring the sparking and trying to divert his attention.
“I could swear I saw sparks. Bluish sparks,” Jackson said slowly, continuing to stare in confusion.
“Don’t do that to me. Don’t make up lies to distract me, Jackson. We’re done here.” I stood. In that moment, I knew I was right. We were done. Permanently. I could feel the sadness building. I swallowed hard, trying to stuff it down. I couldn’t, I wouldn’t cry here.
I didn’t stop to see if Anabel or Theo were waiting for me or if Heath had come back in. I just needed silence. To get as far away from here as possible. I left Jackson mumbling to himself. Hopefully he’d shake out of it and reason it out to be an electric shock or trick of the mind’s eye.
By foot, it was a twenty-minute walk to my apartment. I walked quickly, head down. Keep it together. Keep it together, I chanted over and over in my mind.
So what if I just lost my only parental figure? So what if he was the only adult that mattered to me or that I respected? I brushed it aside. I was me. I didn’t need him anyway. I’d been betrayed by my real parents. Now, that … that hurt. I wasn’t about to let Jackson break me.
It was sprinkling, a slight chill in the air. But it felt good. Walking always helped me sort things out. It felt good to be alone. It was like walking to freedom.
I hesitated at the door, unsure of whether or not I wanted to go in. Feeling disconsolate, I sighed heavily and opened the door. The first thing I noticed was that my apartment was clean. No, not clean, immaculate.
Hmm … who’s been cleaning in here? My apartment had never looked like this; everything gleamed. That’s when they caught my eye. A stack of books and an envelope sat on the small table in the kitchen. I opened the fridge to find it fully stocked. Grabbing a soda, I sat down, turning the envelope over, no writing anywhere. Taking a sip of the soda, I opened the envelope. The note was from Bast.
Lorelei,
I didn’t get to say everything I wanted to earlier. Next time come alone. Since you’re brand new to this world, I thought you could use some help. These are some old scribes and books passed down from Gifted to Gifted, and the last one is the spell book of a Dark. Let’s see if you can guess who the Dark is. It won’t tell you who she really was or is, but it’ll show you her true nature. Remember: Gifted and Dark leaders are transferred down through the bloodlines, meaning you can trace your family. Be wary of those who don’t tell you what you need to know. Any half-brained Gifted or Dark would see your blue hue and know you were a leader and how to trace you. So, why not tell you the whole truth? We don’t have to be on opposite sides. We’re meant to be a team, regardless of what those Gifted say.
Best,
Bast
P.S. Anabel is the one who cleaned and stocked your fridge. She let me in to drop this off as well.
I read the note over and over trying to understand the more cryptic parts of the message. I knew immediately that the spell book must have been Thea’s. It seemed everyone was withholding information. If any of my Gifted friends saw the blue hue and knew I was a leader of a powerful race of Gifted, why not tell me everything? Why lie? Then again, did they lie? They told me I was powerful.
Yet, Bast must be up to something by telling me this. But what? As for my supposed friends, if Bast knew all of that, so would they … so why bring me to her? So they didn’t have to tell me themselves
, or what? Remembering the piece of paper she’d slipped me, I retrieved it from my pocket, studying the eloquent writing. Just tomorrow’s date and a time listed. I set the note to the side, disregarding it in turn to study the pile of books before me.
There were four books in all, followed by a large journal. It was made of brown leather, heavy and worn, but sturdy. I immediately recognized it as the one from Bast’s study, its pages flying open without her touch. Her name was etched into the front cover, Temperance Decker. Holding it made me feel nauseated, so I set it aside and went to the next book.
This one was about the history of the Gifted and the Dark. It looked intriguing, with lots of charts and diagrams, but I didn’t have time for that yet. The next was filled with genealogical charts on the oldest families of the Gifted and the Dark. Following this one was an alphabetized scribe of the oldest and most powerful in our world. This must be what Bast had mentioned earlier about looking her up. I flipped through until I found her listing, a full page. I braced myself and began to read:
Decker, Temperance
Daughter of a founding family of Columbus, Ohio, during the 19th century, she is regarded as the most powerful Dark of her time. Even more so than the leader of the Dark, which was and is, still unheard of to this day. She is best known for her role in making Columbus a mecca for the Dark, for being the first member of her bloodline to choose to be Dark, the Deckers having been a revered Gifted family for centuries. A key leader, second-in-command, until the untimely demise of the Dark leader, Agatha Johnson, and her entire known family. Although there is much speculation about Decker’s involvement in the deaths of Johnson and her family, nothing was ever proven. Decker took up the reins, ruling the Dark until her sudden disappearance at a Dark convention in Louisiana in 1835, in what is known as the Dark Massacre.
Known For:
1.Focused her talents on death and the dying. In so doing, she created spells to increase life expectancy. These included spells to treat diseases and cancers, but were found to be too dangerous, requiring binds, sacrifice, and soul leeching.
2.Worked on all supernatural creatures to find ways to bind their power or take it from them and infuse it in other creatures.
3.Often sold her talents to the highest bidder. Created ways to prolong death. Known for torture and for necromancy.
4.Rid Ohio of all Gifted people through various means.
The list continued, but I had read enough. I felt disgusted. My mind raced. It was all so vague, but if it meant what I thought it meant, none of it was good. My first instinct was to find Anabel, but I stopped myself. This woman—or whatever she was—was incredibly powerful. More than I could ever be. She raised the dead, used torture and, from the sound of it, killed a lot of people. And she was coming for me.
I looked through the scribes until I found the listing for the Dark Massacre:
Louisiana, 1835. A Dark Convention was held by the leader of the time Temperance Decker. Not much is known about the incident as there were no known survivors. Darks traveled from all over to meet the great Decker who held sway in government, local and federal, and high society. Decker was a much-admired and feared Dark of the time. In all, 256 Darks convened in Baton Rouge, Louisiana, to date the largest gathering of any group of supernatural beings. On the night in question, reports of silver and black flames shooting up into the sky, followed by screams, and pleas from the convention came in. Other reports stated that a woman in black was seen leaving the scene as the screams died. The woman exited the burning building covered in a silvery hue. The woman, believed to be Temperance Decker, was never seen again, leading many to believe she died in the fire. The fire itself was documented as having raged for two days. It never spread, eventually burning itself out, leaving behind no remains.
I sat in stunned silence. No sign of bodies … 256 people just vanished? I shook my head, trying to figure it all out. So, I sat and sat and sat … until I could sit no longer. Grabbing my keys, I ran for the door and drove straight to Patrick’s. I wasn’t sure what I needed or wanted, but I knew Patrick could give it to me.
The James estate was massive. He hadn’t been lying when he said ‘estate.’ In looks, it was like a smaller version of Kykuit, the Rockefeller estate. While the Rockefeller home managed six stories, the James estate only had four. Only. It was built in the same Classical revival Georgian form with thirty rooms, sitting on a whopping forty acres. The small cottage in the back he had taken me to was only one of seven that could be used to house extra guests and family. I hadn’t had a chance to explore, but a peek from the bedroom had shown me a massive garden. I was in awe, and I was itching to research his family. I mean, who the hell were the James’s?
The door was unlocked, and no one was around. And it pissed me off. At the front was a massive gate and a guard station, but still: who leaves their door unlocked when they lived in a freaking mansion? I searched the whole downstairs before heading up to his room. He was in the bathroom. I could hear the shower running. So, I sat and waited, breathing sharply as he walked out a short while later, his hair wet, in jeans and an unbuttoned shirt exposing perfect muscles. He smiled in surprise at seeing me.
I stood slowly, staring at him ravenously. It was time. My brain screamed at me that this was all wrong somehow, that I was still missing something, but I didn’t care.
There were no words. I wanted this. I needed it. To pour my anger and frustration into something else. I needed to feel. To convince myself I was alive. I closed the distance between us. He looked at me, passion in his eyes. Then, with a seductive smile, he grabbed me. His hands were in my hair as my mouth parted to meet his, his tongue seeking mine.
Pulling away after a moment, he studied me with a wicked grin, his eyes intense, searching mine as if seeking an answer. In response, I slid my finger into the front of his pants, pulling him teasingly to the bed. I pushed him down. Straddling him, I bent over to kiss him, his hands exploring my body. I moaned lightly into his mouth as his fingers traced over my skin softly. My body began to stiffen as his hands became more eager. Without warning, he flipped me over so I was under him.
“Let’s get this shirt off of you,” he said enticingly. Sitting up, I smiled shyly and shuffled out of my shirt. He stood looking down at me as he undressed himself until he was in only his boxers. I felt a blush spread across my entire body. Leaning over, he unzipped my pants, taking them off slowly.
I stared at him in awe. Everything about him was beautiful—well, except for the whole murderer thing. Pushing the thought out of my mind, I pulled him closer, wanting to feel him everywhere. Easing my legs apart to free himself, he pulled me up, unclasping my bra.
“You are so beautiful,” he murmured, kissing each breast lightly. He positioned me so I was propped on my elbows with pillows behind me, and I watched him as he kissed my thighs. With one hand, he reached up and pulled my underwear to the side.
Suddenly he was there. My body rigid, I could only moan as his tongue found me. I was all sensation as he twirled his tongue over my sex. Grabbing his hair with one hand, clinging to the sheets with the other, I felt the pressure building slowly. He stared up at me as he continued. Our eyes locked, and I felt his fingers enter me, then I was no more. My body collapsed against the bed as I moaned his name.
Instantly his mouth was on mine, his body slamming into mine. I cried out. Patrick’s eyes were dark and full of need as he slammed into me again and again. My legs wrapped around him, pressing him into me, filling me. My fingers found his flesh and dug in hard. I pulled one of his hands toward my mouth, kissing it, sliding his fingers in. He groaned, and I bit down lightly. He thrust his body into mine deeper and deeper. I nodded at him, crying out, the pleasurable need rising. Patrick gave one last delectable thrust and groaned out my name. I followed swiftly, screaming out as my body writhed in sheer sensation. He collapsed on top of me, as I
whimpered, my legs still shaking.
I woke alone to darkness and clambered bleary-eyed out of the bed searching for my pants. Finding what I needed, I switched my phone on. Midnight. Well, it was now or never. Dressing quickly, I surreptitiously exited the bedroom and crept down the staircase. Silence. I couldn’t help but wonder where everyone was. But then again, did I want to know? I’d been betrayed by everyone.
At the entrance, I took one last look around. In my heart, I knew this was it. I was heading out into a world of uncertainty. Remembering the feeling of sheer joy just a few hours earlier, I couldn’t stop the pit of emptiness from consuming me now. It was all wrong. My relationship with Patrick, my friends, the danger I was going to be facing, everything. Smiling sadly, I left.