Chapter Twenty-One
My family was gathered around the kitchen table when I got home from the lair. I stood in the doorway watching them. Dinner was over and they were making s’mores over the fondue pot. Everything about the scene was perfect, like a commercial for graham crackers or something. My parents and sisters seemed happy and content. Such a contrast to my life, where everything was confusing and complicated.
Quinn noticed me first as she used her finger to catch a bit of dripping marshmallow. “Hi, Arden. Want a s’more? Probably not, huh?”
Of course I didn’t want a s’more, but it was nice of her to ask.
I stood there frozen. My mind went blank and I didn’t know what to say or do. My vision turned so blurry that I couldn’t see my family anymore—just globs of color. It took me a few seconds to realize it was because of the tears.
Dad moved from his seat and I collapsed into his arms, sobbing uncontrollably. I had never felt so completely overwhelmed.
My mom and sisters watched silently for a moment until Mom finally said, “Girls, it’s such a beautiful night. Let’s take the s’mores out to the porch.”
Quickly they gathered the paper plates and s’mores that had already been made and rushed out the back door.
Dad lowered himself back into his chair and sat me in his lap like I was five again. “What’s going on?”
Where could I even start? I told him everything. About how Fletcher had been my Gemini all along. How Mr. Mason was the reason the curse was in effect. How he was going to get everyone killed by opening that tunnel. “I don’t know how to get through to him. He’s just so angry about the massacre and the death of his wife, that’s all he can think about. This is all about him getting his revenge.”
“Honey, there’s something I have to tell you about Mr. Mason.”
I grabbed a napkin from the table to wipe my face. “What about him?”
“The massacre—he’s the one responsible for it.”
My skin tingled. “What? Are you sure?” I knew my father wouldn’t lie to me, but he had to be wrong.
“Positive. He was back then, just the way he is now, hateful towards Givers. Once upon a time we wanted to destroy all the things that lived in the sixth tunnel. The Takers begged us not to and promised us that they’d keep those beasts under control. We trusted them to do that. Mason however went back on his promise when he took some of those things from the sixth tunnel. He used them to come after Givers, thinking he could control them, but he couldn’t. The beasts killed both Givers and Takers—his own wife included.”
I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. My heart raced and I couldn’t tell whether it was from surprise or anger. Probably both. “Seriously?”
“Yes,” Dad replied. “He designed that lair for Taker children out of guilt, not just the goodness of his heart. He is the reason those kids are orphaned.”
I didn’t want to believe my father, but I did. Every word he said. I believed all those deaths were on Mr. Mason.
“Arden, there’s only one thing to do. You have to get rid of him. I know that Aswang very well. He’s stubborn and there’s no way of reasoning with him, so don’t bother. We’ve tried before and you see what happened.”
“Are you saying I have to kill him?” I was capable of killing, but I didn’t want to if there was another option. Mr. Mason was Hollis’ father. I had promised him. What would Hollis do to me? He’d probably turn around and kill me out of retaliation. He had already lost his mother.
Besides, now that the Wendigo in me seemed to be fading away, I would have to use my Banshee skills which were not yet perfected.
“I can’t kill him, Dad. I don’t know how. But what about the Archs? They can call the curse off if they want. Why do they want to keep this going?”
Dad rubbed his forehead. “It’s not that easy, honey. Once the curse has been put into effect, there’s only one way it can be called off.”
“How?” I asked.
“The Archs have to be given a particular offering. Once it is presented to them, they must call the curse off, whether they want to or not.”
That was exactly what I wanted to hear. It sounded so easy. Why had no one mentioned this before? “Good. What’s the offering?”
“It must be presented in a box made of platinum. The box must contain a specific offering from a Giver and a Taker that represents both life and death—the heart of a Nephilim and the bone dust of a Death Fairy.”
I swallowed hard. My bones. Bailey had mentioned my bones before and why the dust from them were so valuable. It was the reason she’d given me the nickname Dust. It was the reason Dust was okay with me.
“What’s a Nephilim?”
Dad looked toward the back door as the sounds of Paige and Quinn arguing interrupted our conversation. Mom shushed them and Dad looked at me again. “A Nephilim is a half-human and half-angel. They have two hearts, so they can spare one.”
“Oh. How am I supposed to find—” I stopped talking and Dad looked away. Rose. Rose was a Nephilim. This was too much of a coincidence. This had to have something to do with the reason the two of us were switched. Someone knew Rose and I would eventually be the offering that could stop the curse.
Dad held me tighter. “Arden, you don’t need to do this. Clearly, you’re winning. Fate has chosen you over Fletcher. Both you and Rose are safe.”
I looked my father in the eye. He had to know there was no way I could ever do what he was suggesting. Not ever. “You expect me to let Fletcher die? How can you even say that?”
He sighed. “I don’t want Fletcher or any of those kids to die, but the Gemini Curse is an unfortunate part of our lives that we can’t do anything about. I’m sorry. It’s inevitable, creatures will die. My main concern is you and Rose.”
Dad was wrong. There was a way to stop the curse and he had just given it to me. The hard part was going to be getting Rose on board. I doubted that she would even speak to me again.
Chapter Twenty-Two
I had to get to Fletcher’s for two reasons. One, I had to let him know I’d possibly found a way to break the curse, and two, I needed to get Rose’s number. I couldn’t ask Hollis for information about Rose. I didn’t want word to reach Mr. Mason. He would try to stop me or open the tunnel even earlier than he had planned.
I knocked on the Whitelock’s front door. Although both cars were in the driveway, no one answered. I called Fletcher.
“Hello.” His voice sounded groggy.
“Hey, Fletch. I’m outside. Can I come in?”
“Sure. Hold on.” A moment later Fletcher opened the door for me. He wore a white t-shirt and boxer shorts and looked worse than I had ever seen him. His usually shaggy hair seemed to be matted on his head. His skin was deathly white and purple pools had formed under his eyes. He looked so tired and I felt horrible for making him get up. Fletcher smelled like some sort of wild herbs. I assumed it was some remedy his mother had concocted. “Come on up,” he told me and we headed up to his bedroom.
“Where are your parents?” I asked as we settled onto Fletcher’s bed.
“In their bedroom.”
“Well, I have really, really good news, Fletch.”
He closed his eyes and snuggled underneath his covers, shivering. “What?”
“I know how to break the curse. I know how to do it and I’m going to fix all of this.”
His eyes popped open. “What do you mean you know how to break the curse? How?”
I wasn’t sure I should tell him the truth because he would try to stop me. “I know what I have to do but I need you to give me Rose’s number.”
Fletcher raised an eyebrow at me. “Why do you need her number?”
“I’m not going to hurt her, Fletcher. I need her help with something.”
He yawned and grabbed his phone off the nightstand. “I’ll text it to you.”
I placed my hand on his cheek which was so cold, deathly cold—the way a corpse would feel. I hated seeing hi
m like this. “Fletcher, hang in there. I promise you, you’re going to get better very soon.”
He gave me a small smile. “Don’t worry about me, Arden. No matter what happens, everything is going to be okay.”
I gave him a small peck on his cheek. “You’re right. Everything is going to be okay.”
I took the stairs to the first floor. The Whitelock’s were no longer in their bedroom. The two of them stood at the front door with their arms down at their sides.
I paused at the bottom of the stairs. “Oh, hi, Mr. and Mrs. Whitelock.”
Mr. Whitelock stayed quiet as usual. He was tall with broad shoulders and bright white hair. Mrs. Whitelock cocked her head to one side and smiled at me. “Hello, Arden. I must say your timing couldn’t have been more perfect.”
“What do you mean?” Something was off. Very off.
The Whitelocks looked at each other. It was only then that I noticed the coffee table and my heart stuck in my throat. The table was covered with knives of various sizes, a meat cleaver, and several hammers.
I took a step back. I had no idea what was going on, but it wasn’t good. Whatever was going down, my ass would be out the back door in five seconds flat.
Mrs. Whitelock stepped toward me. “Dear, we didn’t want things to come to this, but no one does. There’s really no other way to put it. Parents will do anything for their children. So you see, we can’t just sit around watching him waste away.”
I spun and made a move for the backdoor which was through the kitchen, but Mrs. Whitelock’s china cabinet had been pushed in front of it. From where I stood, the only way out was the front door and they had that covered.
“Fletcher!” Mr. Whitelock bellowed.
The door to Fletcher’s room opened. I came back into the living room as he hobbled down the stairs. His gaze fell to the array of weapons on the coffee table and then to his parents. “What’s going on?”
Mr. Whitelock stepped forward, rubbing his hands on the sides of his jeans. “Son, we know you don’t want to do this, but you must. I know Arden is your friend, but the only way for you to live and get your strength back, is for you to—”
“Are you crazy?” Fletcher jumped to the bottom of the staircase. “I’m not going to kill Arden. You know I won’t, so why are you even doing this?”
“Fletcher,” his mother said with a tone of warning. “She’s not leaving here until you’ve done what you need to do, so you might as well get to it. I’ll tell you what to do to make it as quick and painless as possible.” She looked at me sympathetically. “I’m sorry, Arden.”
I held my hands up. “Wait. I know how to break the curse. Nobody has to die. Nobody has to kill anyone. Fletcher will be fine. I just need a couple of days, tops.”
Mrs. Whitelock raised an eyebrow. “We don’t even know if he has a couple of days.”
Fletcher coughed from beside me and leaned over a small sitting table in the living room as if he were about to collapse. He had already been on his feet for too long. I rubbed his back. I had to stop this. I couldn’t let him get worse.
I turned to his parents. “I promise you. Fletcher will be okay, but you need to let me out of here so I can do what I have to do. Nobody else will have to die.”
Mr. Whitelock ignored me. “Fletch, I’ll hold her down while you do it. It’ll be quick. We have to do this now, son.”
Fletcher watched his parents with disgust. “I’d slice my own wrist before I sliced hers. You might as well just let her go.”
“For Christ’s sake.” Mrs. Whitelock came storming toward me. Fletcher made a move in my direction, but he was slow and feeble. Mrs. Whitelock tackled me and the two of us slammed into the wood floor. My head cracked against the wood as Mrs. Whitelock pinned my arms down and her knees sank into my midsection. Pain throbbed through my head.
I remembered what happened the last time someone had pinned me to the ground. I had clawed them to death. Something stirred within me and I prayed my Wendigo side wasn’t about to come through for the sake of everyone in the room.
Fletcher coughed again. “Mother, get off her . . . please.”
Mrs. Whitelock blocked my view of her husband but a clunking sound coming from somewhere in the room told me that he was gathering up weapons. He thrust a knife into Fletcher’s hand. Fletcher shook his head, letting the knife tumble to the ground. Didn’t these people understand that Fletcher would never kill me or anyone?
I narrowed my eyes at Mrs. Whitelock and thought about the knife. Mr. Whitelock shook Fletcher, screaming at him, as if doing that would turn him into a murderer. The insanity had to stop.
The knife rose above Mrs. Whitelock’s head, wobbling in midair. Fletcher and his father froze. “Sonya,” Mr. Whitelock said breathlessly. Mrs. Whitelock looked at her husband and then followed his gaze. Turning her head, she spotted the knife. She looked down on me, wide-eyed and let go of my arms.
I wasn’t stopping there. I stared at the weapons on the table. Warmth pulsed through me and I focused all my concentration on them. The weapons rose in unison, half pointing at Mrs. Whitelock, the other half pointing at her husband.
I looked her dead in the eye so she would know I was no longer afraid. I was angry. If it were up to these people, I’d be dead. “Mrs. Whitelock, Fletcher isn’t going to kill me and you know it, so stop this. If anyone dies in this house tonight, it’s going to be you and your husband.”
“Arden, don’t,” Fletcher begged.
I kept going. “Every weapon you have for me, I can turn on you with just a thought. I can pin you to the wall with those knives, bash your brains out with that hammer—”
“Arden!” Fletcher barked.
By that time Mrs. Whitelock had climbed off me, her eyes locked on the floating weapons.
I rose to my feet. “I’m going to leave now. As I said before, I’m going to take care of this. I understand you’re only trying to help Fletcher, but I’m not dying tonight.”
Fletcher nodded and I headed for the door. The weapons clattered to the floor before I slammed the door behind me.
The next day I skipped school to take the train to meet Rose. When I spoke to her, she sounded skeptical, but that was understandable considering what had gone down the first time we’d met. I told her that the two of us could break the curse but we needed to meet in person. Also, I wanted to talk to her about something else.
Luckily, she agreed to meet me at the smoothie place when she got out of school. She ordered a watermelon-mango smoothie. I had nothing because there wasn’t a smoothie flavor that wasn’t sweet.
“Have something,” Rose insisted. “My treat.”
She was being way too nice to me considering I had tried to kill her just the other day. “That’s okay,” I said.
Once she got her smoothie she took a big sip. “So what did you want to talk to me about? You said it was important.”
Neither of the things I had to speak to her about were easy, so I decided to have the better conversation first. “I have to tell you something. Something about you and me.”
She raised an eyebrow. “What’s up?”
“The parents you grew up with, they’re not your real parents. They’re mine. And my parents are your real parents. We were switched at birth.”
Rose stared at me for a long time. I waited for her to say I was crazy and that she didn’t believe me but instead she said, “I knew you looked like her. Like exactly. I thought it was just a coincidence.”
My cheeks warmed. “You look just like Mom and my sisters.”
The rosiness came back to her cheeks. “I have sisters?”
I gulped. It was hard to think of my sisters as her sisters, but they really were. “Yeah, two. Paige is thirteen and Quinn is ten, almost eleven.”
“Wow.”
“What about you? Do you have any brothers and sisters?”
Rose shook her head. “No. Only child.”
That was slightly disappointing. Between Paige and Quinn, I had enough of s
iblings, but it would have been nice to have a brother.
We sat in silence for a long time, thinking. I pulled my phone from my dress pocket. “I have lots of pictures.” I handed her my phone so she could flip through the pictures herself and she handed me hers.
She didn’t have to tell me anything. I knew my mother immediately. Pale and slender, with coal-black eyes and matching hair. Her face was a little fuller than mine, but I was almost the spitting image of my mother. My father had light brown hair and warm coffee-colored eyes. He looked sweet and gentle. His smile made me smile. It was hard to believe there had been a Wendigo living inside him.
“Tell me about them,” I said. It wasn’t fair. They were dead and I hadn’t even had the chance to meet them.
Rose pushed her hair behind her ears. “My mom, well your mom, our mom, you know what I mean, she was a homemaker. She was a great cook and she handmade almost everything—a total do-it-yourselfer. She loved to sew.”
That struck a chord in me. My mother had loved to sew. Maybe that was where I had gotten it from. I wondered if she would have been proud of the things I made.
“Was she nice? Did you guys get along?”
Rose nodded. “Oh, yes, we were besties. I told her everything and we did everything together. She was very proud of me.”
Something tugged at my heart. She’d had the kind of relationship with my birth-mother that I wanted to have with hers. Maybe my real mother was glad we had been switched.
I cleared my throat. “And your dad?”
“He was a butcher. Dad was great but he was quiet and kept to himself. It was kind of hard to know what was going on with him, but he was a great dad. He would have done anything for us.”
She wiped at a tear. I moved to the other side of the table and wrapped my arm around her. The only parents Rose had known were dead. I still had mine, so I had no idea what that felt like. On the other hand, she still had the opportunity to meet her real parents while I didn’t.
Dust and Roses: Book Two of the Dust Trilogy Page 15