Lucious rubbed his chin with interest. “Why don’t we ask her in person? I have an idea.”
4
The Interview
The loud bang of the front door told her Andrew had left the apartment. Since last night, she wasn’t sure how to look him in the eye. She was cold after her nightmare and needed warmth. That’s all.
But was that a lie? There was no reason for it to be.
Helena packed her new notebooks and college materials into her bag. In her wardrobe, she found a pair of black slacks and a white blouse. She hated wearing white. It wasn’t practical for everyday use. Whoever decided to wrap the brides in it had no qualms about the cleaning bill, and the whole talk about the bride being pure was overrated by today’s standards.
After tying her hair into a ponytail, she grabbed her backpack and went downstairs.
Laura was busying herself around the kitchen. Her hair was pulled back into a bun and held together by colourful Chinese hair sticks.
Helena dropped her bag on the sofa before converging on the kettle.
A stern expression settled on her friend’s face as she rested her hip against the counter with a butchered strawberry in one hand and a knife in the other. “So, why are you avoiding Andrew?”
“What are you making?”
Laura’s lips formed into a devilish grin. “You’re deflecting.”
Helena checked if the kettle had enough water and flicked the switch. There was nothing to say, so she went with the truth. “We…hugged last night.”
Laura squealed, and Helena rolled her eyes.
Raising her hands in defence, Helena said, “I was having a bad dream, and he woke me up. We hugged on impulse. There’s nothing special about it.”
“Keep telling yourself that and you’ll die alone.”
Helena drummed her fingernails on the counter. Why can’t the kettle boil any faster? She didn’t want to discuss romantic relationships this early in the morning, not when she had to question Michael about her dad. Ever since they came back from the Angel Realm, she couldn’t get a hold of him. It was as if he avoided her on purpose. Which is exactly what you’re doing to Andrew…
“Since I won’t be getting any cheesy details out of you, I will have to use my baking charms on him later.”
Helena grabbed her arm. “You can’t!”
“Sure, I can. He will sing like a fat canary once I’m done.”
“The last time you baked, we had to go on a diet for a week!”
“I believe it’s a fair trade.” Laura set the knife down, her smile never leaving her lips. “Either you tell me the whole lot this instant or ready the scales.”
Helena snorted. The whole situation was ridiculous, but this was what she loved about Laura. She always wanted to help or cheer people up even if, at first, she tortured the information out of them.
“Okay, I’ll talk.”
The kettle gave a satisfied whistle, and Helena poured her coffee while she told Laura an edited version of last night’s events, taking out bits that could be interpreted as mental asylum worthy.
Her friend listened intently with an occasional nod. Once finished, Laura ate the last of her cereal with an amused look on her face.
“What?” Helena asked.
“Want to know what I think?”
“Do I have a choice?”
Laura shook her head. “When you come home tonight, walk up to the guy and give him a big smooch.”
She raised a brow. “A smooch?”
“Exactly!” Laura slung her pink-and-yellow-striped bag over her shoulder. “That’s what the two of you need. Now, I best go or I’ll be late for class.”
Helena glanced at the clock. It was getting close to nine, which meant she had over an hour to spare.
Her friend gave her a reassuring pat on the back. “Remember, a nice, long smooch. If I come back and you aren’t dating, I will bake for a month.”
“Warning acknowledged,” Helena replied, and Laura left with a slight skip in her step. At least someone is happy.
Taking her time, she finished her luke-warm coffee. She headed over to the sofa where she stretched across the seats and closed her eyes, concentrating on her shields. The more times she practised, the quicker she slipped out of her conscious state.
Inside her mental barriers, she stood on the chequered floor. The familiar steel bubble contained her. This time, it was peaceful. Whatever was fighting its way in was gone, and the encounter became another unanswered question.
She called out to Michael, and he responded by materialising in front of her. His golden complexion had lost some of its colour.
“We need to talk,” she said.
Michael remained in place, immobile. She wasn’t sure if he was breathing.
“Okay…let’s start with the thing last night. What was it?”
“It’s none of your concern.”
Dissatisfied with the abrupt response, she tried formulating another approach since he hated being pressed for answers. When she got close to asking him about his life as an angel, he would vanish without another word.
She balled her hands and stopped herself from throwing needless accusations his way. The creature from last night was trying to get inside of her mental shields. Of course, it concerned her!
“Michael, please tell me.”
“If that is all, I have to go.”
She caught the cream-coloured sleeve of his shirt, most of which was hidden by a brown leather vest held closed by a column of silver buckles on his chest. The rough cotton irritated her skin, but she clung to it, nonetheless.
He scowled at her.
“You can’t go. What about—” She cast her eyes downwards, trying to think of what else she could throw at him. From her gut protruded the same pale string she remembered in the fate’s domain. Absentmindedly, she stroked it.
“What about the string? Why is it still here?”
Michael’s warm hand touched hers, and she lifted her eyes to meet his. For a brief wisp of a second, she thought he would say something, but he pushed her hand away. “You must trust me, Helena. I am here to watch over you. What I am not here to do is answer your endless barrage of questions.”
His prickling words hurt. She wasn’t sure if that was what he wanted, but that was what she got. Her fingers tugged on the string, and it gave a light hum in response. Ever since he took her to the Angel Realm, she thought he would help her with her search. She didn’t even know if he got into trouble for helping her.
“I’m sorry,” she said.
Michael’s expression softened. “All I ask is that you trust me. I will always be by your side, no matter what.” His fingers gently caressed her cheek as if she was made of fragile glass. “The link you have created with the vampire must be broken as soon as I find a way. It is dangerous. So, tonight, when you return home and profess your feelings for your human friend, I will do my best to shatter the connection. Are we in agreement?”
Helena didn’t want any more problems with the supernatural. She had to worry about finding her father—wherever he was—instead of exposing herself to needless danger.
“Alright.”
Her backpack did an erratic dance on her back as she ran towards the Arts Block. She didn’t expect her bus to breakdown in the middle of an already congested street. Luck truly had abandoned her today.
She peeled back her jacket sleeve, checking the time. Her class started in three minutes. Panting, she burst into the building full of energetic students and loud nattering. Dodging the people around her as she pushed her body to its limits, she covered the distance she had left to get to her lecture hall. At the door, she spied her classmate.
“Nadine, wait!” she called out.
The girl halted. “Good morning.”
Helena couldn’t push away the unease growing inside of her. Nadine acted almost displeased with her presence. She had taken Laura’s encouragement of making friends to heart and wanted to be sure she had done her best
.
Slipping her hands into her jeans pockets, Helena said, “I’m sorry if I offended you the last time we spoke.”
Nadine’s brown eyes focused on Helena. For someone so young, they held a hardened concoction of hardships and knowledge. And, once the dreaded telltale sign of a pleasant smile appeared, Helena mentally prepared for the final blow to her inability to make friends.
“You haven’t offended me. I had to leave early to get to my appointment.”
Helena fought not to gape. Is she serious? She pursed her lips. She hadn’t thought their conversation would get further than a greeting.
“The class is about to start. Would you like to sit together?” Nadine asked.
Grinning like a fool, Helena pranced after her into the lecture hall while giving herself a mental pat on the back for a job well done. Laura would be proud.
Helena waited in her seat, next to Nadine, for the crowd of students to leave. She turned her head, checking on her new friend. For some reason, Nadine moved like a lost kitten and a strange surge of protectiveness surfaced in Helena.
“Would you be free for lunch?” Helena asked.
Nadine checked her journal. There were a lot of things written for the evening, none of which Helena could make out from her tiny scribbles.
“I have time.”
They left the lecture hall. The corridor was almost empty except for a few students who were sitting on the floor, chatting.
Helena decided to go back to the cafe where they formally introduced themselves. Her fingers played with the metal catch on her bag while the silence between them was filled with an occasional conversation of the passers-by. She couldn’t figure out if Nadine preferred the quiet or was waiting for Helena to start talking.
“The essay we were given on ancient Egypt, have you decided what to write about?”
The girl tilted her head to one side. “I think I will enjoy this assignment. It is about the history of how far we, humans, have come.”
They turned the corner. The walls were covered in posters for an upcoming party. Helena eyed them with distaste. Parties, nightclubs, and concerts were not her usual gigs. She preferred to keep away from crowded places.
“I never found Egyptians to be interesting,” Helena admitted. “Slavery is not my cup of tea.”
“I don’t believe any pure soul would side with cruelty against others.”
Helena studied Nadine’s face. She smiled that same, mysterious smile that confused Helena. “Why do you do that?”
Nadine frowned. It was the first natural emotion she displayed that morning. “What do you mean?”
“You smile, but it doesn’t feel genuine.”
Nadine stopped on the stairs, her face tilted downwards.
“Look, I didn’t mean to upset you…”
Nadine shook her head. She brushed her fringe out of her eyes and smiled. The first real, bright smile Helena had seen that made her heart flutter.
“No one has said that to me before. Many stay away once they find out more about me… About the real me.” Nadine resumed her descent.
A million questions pushed against one another for priority in her head. Anyone normal would feign disinterest and change the topic. Helena couldn’t do it. She wanted to know why this girl erected a barrier around her to keep others away.
Helena caught the girl’s arm at the bottom of the stairs. “Do you torture puppies or drive the wrong way down a one-way street or something?”
Nadine looked away and nibbled on her dry lower lip. What Helena saw in her eyes when she lifted them was deep, heart-wrenching sorrow.
“I cannot have friends or people close to me because they will be hunted by the same darkness that follows me.” Nadine’s fringe fell over her eyes like armour. “I nearly forgot. I have somewhere I need to be.”
Helena grasped her by the shoulders, forcing the girl to remain in place. For once, she didn’t say what was on her mind. While she thought about her next words, Nadine pushed her hands away.
“Helena, people like you shine brightly. I don’t wish for you to come to harm because of me.”
“Don’t you think I should be given a chance to decide for myself?”
“You do not understand the dangers of being involved with me!”
“Then explain them to me.”
Nadine’s warm hand touched Helena’s cheek. “I’m sorry for this, but I will show you instead.”
Helena’s body relaxed and her vision darkened. Amidst the void, blurry images swam before her eyes. She focused on them. The more they flicked through, the clearer they became.
At first, she saw a fog-like darkness blanketing the dirt at her feet. She lifted her eyes and was met with glowing red orbs. They popped open everywhere, their full attention fastened on her. The darkness shifted, and she realised that it wasn’t fog but a mass of bodies; hundreds of smooth, scaled, furry, starved ebony bodies intertwined together like a nest. It was impossible to know where one began and another ended. Their clawed hands reached out for her as if trying to draw her into the tangled mess.
Cold air enveloped her, seeping through her skin with ease. She shivered. She didn’t want those creatures to touch her or be anywhere near her.
This isn’t real, she assured herself. It’s nothing more than a crazy dream.
Long, bony hands wrapped around her ankle. They squeezed, hard.
A cry of discomfort left her as she staggered backwards, severing her connection with Nadine’s hold. Helena was about to give her a piece of her mind but froze when she saw tears marring Nadine’s heart-shaped face.
Nadine bowed her head. “I’m sorry, I must leave. Please forget about me.”
Helena reached out but dropped her hand a second later. The cold in the dream stayed with her. It chilled her to the very core of her soul even though her ankle no longer hurt.
Whatever Nadine was, she wasn’t normal, and normal was what Helena needed these days.
The day at college was over and the sun started its descent over the dull city, bathing the sky in multi-coloured hues. Helena changed into her interview clothes in the toilets and caught a taxi outside her college. When she gave the address to the driver, he looked her over with a smirk as if he knew more than she did.
Ignoring his rude behaviour, she kept her mouth shut and focused on the interview—anything that kept her from Nadine and her visions.
The last time she went to an interview was two years ago, which she had failed miserably. She hadn’t prepared for the bombardment of questions about current fashion trends or how much she knew about the company. To her, clothes were a means to keep her from exposing herself to all. People in the district where her taxi stopped had a different idea since they displayed more flesh than was necessary in their hip-hugging miniskirts and low-cut tops.
“Is this the right address?” she asked, undoing her seatbelt.
He nodded and looked at her bag expectantly.
She eyed the women queuing outside of the Victorian manor. A bright red neon sign above the door told her that she was, after all, at the Russian Roulette.
Helena paid the driver and stepped out of the taxi with reluctance. She had no opportunity to change her mind. The car drove off, kicking up the gravel with its tires. One of the stones hit her thigh, and she shot a glare at the retreating vehicle.
Why am I even here?
She reminded herself about independence and that she needed a job to support that goal. Yet, imagining herself working in a night club provided her with little comfort.
Maybe they have a desk job?
Helena wrapped her jacket tighter around her shivering form. She felt awkward and out of place with a bulky backpack slung over her shoulder when the other females held sparkly clutch purses. She took in a steadying breath. It helped settle the strange sensation that tickled her stomach as she strode over to a six-foot-tall imposing bouncer manning the entrance.
He glared at her, and she mentally crossed him off the checklist of
people she would get along with.
“I’m here for an interview.” At least, her words weren’t trembling as much as her insides from the death stare he was giving her.
The bouncer crossed his arms over his wide chest. The movement stretched the material of his black t-shirt enough to show an intimidating mass of muscle beneath. “Name?”
Somehow, he made a simple word sound threatening, too. Helena recited her name, and he opened the door behind him. As she passed the threshold, she was met with a flood of complaints from other customers who were awaiting their turn.
Helena raised her head high and trudged onward. The dark corridor led to a reception where a single woman sat behind a bare desk, holding a fashion magazine in her manicured hands. Her expensive, bright-red heels rested on the table. Helena glanced at her feet because the receptionist’s position made the black skirt roll up her thighs, displaying her lacy lingerie to the world.
“Welcome to the Russian Roulette.” The blonde eyed her clothes with a grimace. “You must be the interviewee.”
Managing a nod, Helena waited for further instructions.
The blonde pointed to the corridor next to the one she came from. “That way. Second last door on your right.”
Helena’s throat ran dry. She swallowed what little saliva pooled in her mouth. With her own fabricated reassurances, she headed in the indicated direction. Her gut tingled more. She couldn’t understand what was happening. It was as if her string was trying to tell her something.
Helena paused at the door, making sure she was in the right place. She knocked, but nothing happened, so she opted for entering. After all, this was most likely a waiting room.
She pushed on the cool metal handle and, with an almost silent click, the door opened. Peeking inside, she studied the monochromatic décor. A Blackwood minibar with half-empty bottles of whisky on its smooth surface stood to her right. Two white leather sofas were in the middle of the expansive room. Her eyes settled on the two men sitting on them—opposite from one another as day and night.
Russian Roulette (Helena Hawthorn Series Book 1) Page 6