by Rach Elle
Elizabeth had heard that Junior had gotten into some trouble and was currently being held in a maximum security prison just outside the city. She didn’t know the circumstances of the crime, but she wasn’t a fool. She could see the bullet wounds in Randy’s thigh and shoulder and put the two and two together.
Months later she had asked Kingsley if he was the one who shot her husband. “What makes you think that?” He asked.
“I told Junior not to hurt him.”
“Does he do everything you ask?” Kingsley played coy.
“You know he does.” Elizabeth’s face was stern. She wasn’t playing games. She clearly knew about shifters and had figured Kingsley was a part of that world too. “Just promise me one thing,” she began, her eyes softening. “Even though you are under no obligation to do anything I say, I beg of you, protect Junior as well as you can. He is a strong man and I know he can handle himself; but I simply couldn’t bear it if something awful were to happen to him in there. Especially since I know he’s in there because of me. Please, promise me, and I’ll ask nothing more of you; ever.”
Kingsley could only nod. A lump formed in his throat as he looked upon the beautiful woman before him. The sincerity in her eyes made his heart melt. She truly cared for the kid; and her concern, unlike Junior’s love for her, was not an obligation.
“Please,” Elizabeth whispered, “will you watch over him?”
Kingsley’s hard eyes softened. With his southern accent he smiled, “If the good lord willin’ and the creek don’t rise.”
He could feel a genuine appreciation for this woman and knew that no matter the circumstance he would watch over Elizabeth as if she were his own Responsibility. He would not break his promise to Junior either; if Randy ever pulled this battered wife shit again he wouldn’t hesitate to kill the bastard.
Now Kingsley stood in a lavish ballroom watching Awilda just inside his periphery. He sighed heavily. His love for Elizabeth was being threatened once again; only this time he didn’t have the means to stop it. He needed to rely on Junior and suddenly felt anxious that he was running out of time. He couldn’t keep up this façade any longer. Enough playing house; enough keeping up appearances; this needed to end. He could tell Junior was growing fond of the girl and he knew that was going to make things more difficult the longer he allowed it to continue. Junior needed to see things his way; and he needed to see them now.
39
Junior sat on the bar stool in the corner of the living room; very proud of himself for managing to sit without splitting his pants. He had to take off his jacket and unbutton his fly to do it, but he got it done. He noticed the crowd in the ballroom beginning to dissipate; winding down the festivities as the end of the night drew near. His bland expression changed to a small scowl as Zeff entered the living room, heading straight for him. He nodded in his direction and glanced at the bottle of rum Junior was pouring from. Junior reluctantly grabbed a shot glass from the wall rack in front of him and poured Zeff a pull.
“Cheers.” Zeff said as he took his shot. Junior raised his glass to the man and downed his own drink. Without adverting his eyes from the stainless steel refrigerator ahead of him, Zeff spoke; “Nice suit.”
Junior shot back, “Nice dancing; you’re a regular Fred Astaire.” He said flatly.
“I know.” Zeff smiled a crooked smile. “We’ve decided to oblige and let the lot of you stay here just until this whole thing with the girl blows over; or until she begins to pose a true threat to our Responsibilities; which ever comes first. I hope for your sake it’s the former.” He poured himself another shot. “We have plenty of rooms upstairs, although Elizabeth and Kingsley may be more intrigued by our guest house out back; it’s a converted barn.”
“Why would they be intrigued by that?” Junior’s brows deepened and his eyes narrowed.
Zeff scoffed under his breath and took another shot. “You should head back to the hotel; pack up your things. I’ll show Awilda to her room.” He turned to leave.
I’ll bet that’s not all you’re going to do in her room. Junior could feel a growl vibrating in his throat. “She’s coming with me.” He heard himself say. Zeff stopped and looked over his shoulder with only a small reaction in his eyes. Junior lifted his chin with assertiveness. “I made a promise to my friend to watch over her at all times. I’m not going anywhere without her.”
Zeff cracked a smile barely big enough to show the whites of his teeth. “Of course,” he drawled before turning and walking away.
Junior peered into the ballroom to see Elizabeth and Kingsley standing at the catered table. Servants were cleaning up and removing all the unused food around them. What did Zeff mean when he spoke of those two? They looked perfectly innocent; talking, laughing; like old friends. Kingsley told a joke and Elizabeth’s joyful laugh filled the castle. She raised her hand and rested it on King’s arm. Junior’s eyes narrowed as Kingsley looked to the delicate hand before following the length of the arm to her shoulder, then allowing his eyes to meet hers. He smiled deeply as she smiled back.
Junior shook his head and downed another glass of rum. He needed to grab the others and get back to the hotel; but first, he really needed to get out of this suit.
Junior had changed into his regular outfit of jeans and t-shirt only moments ago. Now he scoured the castle looking for Awilda. Kingsley and Elizabeth were ready to return to the hotel and pack. Where was the girl? Junior discretely tried to smell for her. He didn’t need anyone noticing him following his nose like a dog; but her scent was too faint. She was probably cloaked with Zeff’s stink. Either that or she wasn’t even in the castle. His heart began to beat faster and his strides became longer as he made his way into the ballroom. Did she go outside again? He scoured the rose garden through the wall of windows before noticing something out of place; a slight hint of red too vibrant at this time of night to be another rose.
He walked through the glass French doors and under the wrought iron alter to see Awilda kneeling on ground. In front of her sat two small, makeshift white crosses buried in the dirt. Where did she get those? One of them had a shallow grave in front of it and the initials ‘W.R. & G.R.’ were written on it with a marker.
“Awilda,” Junior said her name softly so as not to startle her.
“Did you know I’ve never seen my grandfather’s grave?” She asked, still staring at the little white cross in front of her; the symbols constructed from materials she’d found in the upstairs craft room earlier that day. “And I suppose I’ll never see my grandmother’s either.” Junior knelt down beside her. She smiled to herself, “They would have loved it here though; they always loved flowers. I’ve been thinking about them a lot lately.”
“How long ago did they pass?” Junior asked.
Awilda took a deep breath. “My grandfather died when I was twelve and my grandmother only a few days ago.”
“I’m sorry.”
Awilda shrugged, “I barely knew her anymore. Her mind had begun to deteriorate years before. They both had been consumed by disease; my grandfather, William, he tried to kill me over it.” Junior’s brows lifted. “So my grandmother shot him.”
“Jesus.” Junior breathed.
“Yeah,” Awilda sighed, “I keep thinking about my grandfather’s last words to me. He said, ‘may God take you anyway’. For the longest time the thought of those words scared me. But now after all that’s happened in the last few days they’re kind of reassuring. He had to have known your kind existed. He just didn’t know why or how to accept the fact. He became deranged. Even in his final moments when he had completely lost his mind, he still prayed for me; he still loved me, as I’m sure my grandmother did in her final years after that.” She reached into the pocket of her sundress and pulled out a tiny bible. “I found this in the drawer of the nightstand at the hotel. My grandparents were religious, God fearing people. I can’t think of a single object that would be more fitting for the two of them.” She placed the pocket bible in the shallow gra
ve and with her already dirty hands filled in the negative space with dirt. “This may not be their real graves,” she said, “but that doesn’t mean they’re not here with me, and it doesn’t mean I can’t remember them every time I look at this rose garden.”
Junior couldn’t take his eyes off the young woman sitting next to him. She had carried so much pain throughout the years and even more so in recent days and yet she chose to spend her time with forgiveness; not sorrow.
“I’m sorry,” she said as she looked up at him, “for saying that this dress won’t make me like you. Truth is I already liked you. I understand now that people react differently in times of danger and stress. You’ve been nothing but kind to me and all I could do was argue.”
“You’ve done nothing wrong.”
“I just miss Simon. Even if I can’t be with him for the rest of my life I would at least like to assure him I’m okay; to let him know to call off the search for me and go back to his normal life.”
Junior sighed heavily, his heart breaking for her. “I’ll talk to Kingsley,” he said quietly, “we’ll see what we can do.”
Awilda smiled with the threat of tears welling in her eyes. “Thank you,” she whispered. “Saying goodbye to my grandparents in this rose garden has helped me realize the weight of closure.” She picked up her marker and reached over to the second white cross. She wrote something on its front. “You wouldn’t believe how therapeutic closure can really be.” She said softly. She pulled the marker away and stood. “It’s time Junior; your mother is lonely.” She headed back into the house.
Junior remained still, staring at the letters Awilda had written on the little white cross in front of him; ‘K.C.’; the initials of his own mother. For the very first time, Junior found himself kneeling at her grave. He could clearly see in his mind’s eye the inscription, Here lies Kate Georgette Cross; devoted mother to Junior. He realized he would most likely never return to see his mother’s gravestone again; so Awilda brought it to him.
40
Portland, Oregon…
“Mr. and Mrs. Rose, I’m Director Robert Tomlin; I’m so sorry we had to meet under these circumstances.”
James and Regina turned to see the tall, gray haired man enter the waiting area of Bain Asylum. He had a genuine apologetic look on his face as he held out his long, thin arm to shake James’ hand. “Yes, me too,” James said.
“If there’s anything I can do to help…” Director Tomlin let his sentence trail off.
“Actually, there is,” James started, “do you have any idea where my daughter went?”
“Unfortunately, no.”
“Odd,” Regina chimed in, “I didn’t know you were in the practice of allowing your patients to come and go as they pleased.”
“We’re not, but you see, Awilda committed herself five years ago; she’s undergone intensive therapy and treatments and hasn’t been deemed a danger to her or society. She was always allowed to leave any time she saw fit. I thought her family knew this.”
A young man popped his head into the waiting area. “Director Tomlin, you’re needed in the counselor’s office.”
“Yes, of course,” he motioned to the young man to leave before turning his attention back to the couple in front of him. “I’m so sorry, but we’re short staffed at the moment. One of my doctors mysteriously quit the other night.”
“The one that left with Awilda,” James’ brows popped.
“How did you know that?”
“Your receptionist told me.”
Director Tomlin sighed heavily. “Well, she shouldn’t have. We have no way of knowing if his absence and your daughter’s are connected. Our security cameras had a temporary malfunction that night.”
“Convenient.” Regina drawled.
“I found a letter of resignation on my desk the next morning.” Tomlin explained, as well as some property damage.
James knew the director wasn’t telling him the whole story. Awilda and the doctor leaving the same night may have been a coincidence, but he had a feeling there was more evidence that led to the contrary. If one of his doctors went AWAL and kidnapped a patient in the process it would look pretty bad for Bain. Director Tomlin was clearly saving face; and who could blame him? James walked toward the wall with framed photos of smiling residents and employees of the hospital. He didn’t know what to ask, if anything. He could feel a knot forming in the pit of his stomach; he wasn’t getting anywhere here. He’d reached another dead end. His eyes moved from a grainy picture of the entire staff at Bain to a close up of three doctors with coffee mugs smiling widely at the camera. The first doctor was bald with a dimple on his chin; the second had jet black hair and a mustache to match; and the third… James’ eyes widened as a memory flooded the foreground of his brain. The man smiling back at him had golden, blonde flowing hair and the most perfect smile he’d ever seen. He was suddenly in the hospital in Bellingham, receiving the news that his wife had passed during delivery. He could vividly remember being handed a card. “Who’s this?” He heard himself ask.
“Hmm? Oh, those are three of our doctors here at Bain.” Director Tomlin sounded uneasy.
“Who is this one in particular?” James pointed to the blonde doctor.
“He was the doctor who resigned a few nights ago; Dr. Simon Crispin.”
The image of a business card flashed before James’ eyes. “Shit,” he breathed. He turned to Regina, “We have to go; now.”
Regina could barely keep up with James as they exited Bain. “What’s going on?” She called to him.
“He was there.” James fumed as he hit the keyless entry on his rental. He climbed into the car and leaned his head back against his seat. Regina got in the passenger side.
“Who was where?” She asked.
“Dr. Crispin; I remember him from the hospital. He was there when Awilda was born.”
“Are you serious?” Regina tried to wrap her mind around the new information. “That’s a big coincidence.”
“Too big; he knew something. Wherever he is, that’s where we’ll find my daughter. The question now is how to find him.”
Regina pulled out her cell phone and searched for Simon Crispin. “His address is listed.”
James put the car in drive and followed her directions.
Ten minutes later the rental car sat along the bank of the Columbia River. “According to the address,” Regina said quietly, “he lives in the middle of the river.”
“Shit,” James cursed again.
“Hold on, I haven’t reached the bottom of my bag of tricks.” Regina dialed a number on her phone just as James’ rang. He pulled it out of his pocket to see a blocked number on the caller ID. He had another sinking feeling in his stomach and decided to take the call outside of the car. He stepped out and answered his phone. “Hello?” The voice on the other end was exactly who he’d been expecting.
The dark accent was harsh and thick, “I see you brought your friend with you.”
James whipped around, looking for the voice on the other end. He can see me. The green hills that surrounded him homed dozens of houses sitting on stilts. The caller could be in any one of them, he thought; watching through a window. He eyed the cars parked along the street before turning toward the river to see the calm waters barely fazed by a yacht that chartered slowly by. He couldn’t be on the boat, could he? Where was he hiding? “Yeah, well, she wanted to come.” He said as his eyes darted in every direction.
“I figured she would; do you have information for me?”
James thought for a moment, “No, no leads; I’m at a standstill.”
“I have a feeling you’re lying to me.”
“I wish I was; but everyone I’ve tried to contact is either dead or clueless.”
Regina ended her call with her friend just as James got back in the car. “I’ve got a lead,” she beamed.
“What? How?”
“I’ve got connections. One of my old co-workers is able to track Dr. Crispin’s cell p
hone.”
“Where is he?” James’ heart rate spiked; this chick was turning out to be a bigger asset than he originally thought.
“She’s going to text me the address.” After a moment of sitting in anticipation, she asked. “Who called you just now?”
James stared blankly out his window, “No one.”
“Bull shit; it was the gargoyle from last night, wasn’t it.”
“What makes you think gargoyles can use cell phones?”
“I’m just assuming. It was him, right?”
“Yeah,” James said flatly.
“What did he want?”
“He wants me to find Awilda.” He looked to the woman next to him. Her brows were creased and her nose slightly crinkled in confusion.
“Why?” She asked.
“You wouldn’t believe me if I told you.”
“I followed you a thousand miles in hopes of finding gargoyles; try me.”
James sighed heavily. He wasn’t sure how much to tell this woman; but what intrigued him even more was that he didn’t know just how extensive her knowledge already was. She carried herself like an open book, and yet still seemed shrouded in mystery. “There’s a prophecy that tells of the apocalypse,” he began, “the gargoyle apocalypse, to be more precise. It says that the devil will rise from hell and possess someone on earth to wage a war and destroy the human race.”
“Every five-hundredth year,” Regina cut in.
James looked to her in surprise. “How do you know that?”
“Please, I told you I’m an expert in supernatural creatures. I’m well aware of Arav’s prophecy. What I don’t understand is what finding your daughter has to do with it.”
“That’s the crazy part,” James continued, “it’s possible that my daughter may be the chosen one.”
Regina crooked one brow, “Chosen for what?”
James squeezed his eyes shut. He couldn’t believe he would have to finally face this possibility. “There is evidence to support the theory that Awilda will be the one to wage the war. That’s why those monsters want to find her.”