She’s just spoken Raven’s name when her expression morphs from self-absorption into pure fear. I follow her gaze towards the doorway, where a man in a suit loiters on the threshold, staring in our direction. It’s so easy for me to tell. The bruising, the quiet terror… He is the one. He must be.
Now Raven appears from behind the curtain. He kisses Damien, passes him off to Noriko, and makes a bee-line for the new arrival. Halfway across the floor, Wendy flings herself off the stool and leaps into his path. She opens her mouth, and his hands clench into fists, but he forces himself to stay cold and calm. “I’ve got nothing to say to you here. Get the hell away from me.”
After a moment of hesitation, she skulks back to my side. I nod in the direction of the doorway. “Is that a friend of yours? I think Raven’s going to kill him.”
As though hearing my prophecy, the man in the suit turns pale and backs out of the door. Raven lopes after him in hot pursuit.
“Please, you’ve got to stop him,” Wendy sobs, as I slide off the stool. “I can’t have them fighting over me.”
I spare her a moment more of my time, and the coldest glare in my repertoire. “Why would I do that, even if I could? This isn’t about you.” Tucking my scarf into my coat, I push on the door and head out into the misty night.
“I said, are you Jonathan?” Raven’s hoarse voice demands. Next comes a thud. I quicken my pace, turn the corner, round the back of the hotel. That’s where I find them: two shadows—one hunched over on the cobblestones, moaning and panting as steam and blood pours out from his mouth, and the other wiping the sweat from under his nose. I steal in closer. This is just like that night, outside JoJo’s. Raven sticks his hands deep into his pockets, fidgeting with a few coins and a lighter. I crouch down and stare into the man’s face. Knocked around, bloodied, but breathing.
Even as I stand, Raven aims another kick between the man’s legs. I grip his arm, keeping it steady. You’re not going to kill him. He’s not worth it.
I take one of his hands in my own. He struggles to focus on me as I examine his fists more closely. Blood. Your blood.
Oh, Raven. I want to take you home.
I lick off the mess and kiss his bruised knuckles. “I can’t let him go back there,” he murmurs, his voice trembling against my ear. “What the hell is she doing to him, Peg?”
I take a deep breath. “I’m taking you home,” is all I say, meeting his sadness with the one thing I have left tonight: determination.
Defeated, he nods, and so I guide him away.
· § ·
I lie awake, waiting for the dawn. Beside me, Raven slumbers on. Though we never speak of any attempts at intimacy, and barely communicate with words at all, it comforts me to hear his short, shallow breaths, feel the rise and fall of his chest, and know the way he falls asleep with his arm around me and wakes to find it still there. How he kisses me and brushes aside the teardrops, while I resurrect myself from apparitions that are part dream, part nightmare.
But this morning I won’t sleep, though my latest vision is gone. I try to hold him; from within the depths of his slumber, he trembles and twitches against me. What visions haunt your dreams, my love?
Almost six a.m., and the world outside our window remains cloaked in darkness. Not long now, though. Saturday. The day for his first supervised visitation, with Damien.
The morning can start, in a moment. I want to make him breakfast, before we leave. I have to do something. I feel so useless. No—worse than this. I feel as though everything is my fault.
Around the walls, shades of grey begin to pale. I roll off the mattress and put on my robe. Raven moans, still half asleep, patting the spot where I lay beside him. “Mmm…come back to bed, Peggy.”
He looks so snug, beneath the doona. I smile and move to sit near him. After laying a single kiss on his forehead, I begin plucking at stray locks of his hair, curling them around my fingers until he swats me away. “Have you forgotten what day it is?” I ask solemnly.
He opens his eyes, fully awake. One long sigh, and then he says, “There are things you don’t forget, angel.”
I jump as something by Regurgitator blasts out of the tinny speaker on the alarm clock. Taking this as my cue, I leave him to deal with the noise, and get up to fix our coffee.
· § ·
We arrive a bit after eight. Raven says nothing for the entire journey, but as we shuffle off the tram, his hand grabs for mine, and so we walk the rest of the way. When we turn onto Monty’s street, he pulls me up and says, “I don’t think— Not like this.”
I glance over my shoulder, looking to the familiar blue and grey house. “She’s not here yet,” I tell him. “I’ll wait for you. Right there.” I nod towards the bus shelter on the opposite side of the road. “Go on. Even like this, he’ll know you haven’t forgotten him. Besides, Noriko makes the best coffee, remember?”
I squeeze his hand once, and step aside. He gazes at me, so lost in sadness, until new resolve sets on his face. There are things you don’t forget, angel. Nodding once, he lopes up the driveway and into the house.
With a sigh, I cross the road, and take up my place in the designated spot, huddling deep inside the purple fleecy top I’ve conveniently forgotten to hand over. It’s another reminder. Angel. You always call me by this name, Raven. Mon ange. Only Mother ever called me that, before.
Only Mother told you she loved you, too.
I watch the house and both ends of the street for any signs of my sister, my nemesis. Sure enough, a taxi soon appears on the corner, idling down the street, before it draws to a sharp halt right outside Monty’s. Damien springs out, darting away the moment Wendy tries to grab for his hand. Her shoulders slump as she watches him race inside. Then she turns and crosses the street, coming straight towards me.
I pull out a book from the depths of my top and flick open to a random page, pretending to be engrossed in the story as she takes a seat beside me. Wuthering Heights. It doesn’t matter where I pick up the threads. I dreamed this one already, in early adolescence.
“So you’re going to sit here all day, waiting for lover boy? Aren’t you a good little doggie.”
I knew it wouldn’t take her long to get stuck in. I only blink to turn the page.
“Oh, and that guy he beat up in the alley? That was Jeff, not Jonathan. Jeff’s much worse. You couldn’t imagine. Then again, that’s right, maybe you could.”
My hands twitch. I turn the page again, even though it’s not time. Does she want me to hurt her?
There’s a long silence, and then she rubs her palms together, breathing on her fingers. “Fuck, it’s cold out here. Look, do you want to go for a coffee, or what?” I’m about to turn another page, far more calmly, when she says, “Don’t think I don’t know I made a big mistake by throwing him out on your doorstep. But I’m going to get him back.”
I slide the book closed and tuck my hands deep into the fleecy pockets. Staring straight ahead, I say, “You make it sound like you actually have a choice in any of this. You lost, remember?”
She’s silent a moment. Then she shakes her head, pity on her face, pity for me. “You really believe that, don’t you. You really believe he—what? Loves you? You believe in love? God, you’re so fucking naive. Why do you think he came to me first? What does that tell you, huh?”
I smile without warmth. “That we were both whores, for a little while.” I close my eyes, leaning against the pebble wall of the bus shelter. From dreams a memory resurfaces: her lifeless form in my hands, the pulse ebbing away beneath my fingertips, my grip loosening around her throat. “You’re going to die, Wendy.”
“Are you trying to threaten me?”
“No. I don’t need to threaten you. It’s simply the truth. A truth. You’re going to die, before your time.”
She cackles wildly, but the minute I brush my fingers against the bruise on her cheek, her laughter falters. Without getting up, she skittles across the seat to be further away from me.
“You thought they loved you,” I murmur sadly. “My mother didn’t love you. And neither does Raven. You always knew that, didn’t you. It’s why you always tried to take everything from me.” I smile at her, as though absolving her of sin, even if I’m no priest. “I never played your games of deceit. I never needed to, no matter what you did. But you’re not the truth, ma soeur. Some day soon, you’ll be gone, and no one will remember you. Not even your son. Who will be to blame for that? Only you.”
Her face scrunches up with rage. As she aims a slap at my face, I grab hold of her wrist, but this time place it back into her lap. Now she stares at me, wide-eyed, understanding nothing. “Are you insane?”
I laugh at the simplicity of her question. “If that makes it easier for you, then yes. I am insane.”
She stands over me and spits at my feet. “He’s mine,” she insists, her spite recalling memories of our childhood. “And Damien’s mine, too. They don’t belong to you. They don’t love you. You’ve got nothing. I’ll take them from you, I’ll take everything from you!”
I smile, waving a hand dismissively. “As I already told you, you’re assuming you ever had a choice.” A chill runs down my spine, even as I say, “Get over it. Life is too short. Especially yours.”
With a snarl, she spins on her heel and stomps off down the street. I wait until she’s out of sight before I fold my legs to my chest and lower my head, trying to hide myself much too late.
· § ·
The angry blare of a car horn is the only signal that alerts me to Raven’s approach—it’s already sunset; all this time I’ve been somewhere else, fallen into a daze. He’s crossing the road, coming towards me, head down, hands buried in his pockets.
He takes hold of my fingers, my skin a tell-tale blotchy purple and blue. “You waited here for me all day?”
“More or less.” I shrug. “Where else would I go?”
His only response is to nod, mostly at the ground. Then, “I want to go home with you, but…I don’t know where I’m supposed to be. I don’t know what’s going to happen anymore.” He lifts my chin, so I can’t hide the tears. “Pegasus?”
Don’t you dare apologise. I don’t think I could bear it.
I grab for his palm, and press it against my icy cheek. “I know what’s going to happen. I’m going to save you, and Damien, too. You always said I was your angel. That’s what angels do, is it not?”
He holds me tight. I twine my fingers through his, and lead us on through silence and darkness. Home to our one small corner of the earth, our only shelter in a world that seems intent on exiling us both.
· § ·
I forgot to switch off the heater this morning but remembered to close the window, so the loft has quite the tropical feel when we crawl inside. Raven goes straight to work, making coffee and hunting through the fridge for something fast and edible. I fold up on the floor, kicking away my shoes, and peeling off my top layer of clothing. He emerges from the kitchen, first with two cups, then a bowl of noodles. I offer to warm it up, but he puts a firm hand on my shoulder. “Too hungry.”
He passes me a fork, then sets the bowl down between us and helps himself. With a patient sigh, I join in. We finish off all the noodles even before our coffee cools off enough to drink. At last, he strips off his black woollen pullover and lays it beside the bowl. “You must get sick of my fashion sense,” he says, with a small smile. Bemused, I shake my head, but he’s already changing the subject. “Maybe I should run you a bath? Get the chill out of those bones.” His gaze darts across me, then back to the pullover. Strange, he seems so shy tonight.
Some winged thing inside me does a fluttery leap.
“Perhaps,” I agree, waiting until our eyes next meet before I lean forward and kiss him. Soon after, we’re on the floor, me on top of him, pulling his t-shirt up over his ribcage, revealing the scars again. I lift it over his head, then start on the zip and the button of his cargo pants, and last of all his underwear and socks, just to complete the effect. My breath comes fast and heavy as I take in his naked form, lying beneath me, glowing in the moonlight. Is this what I feel for you? This…love?
This truth.
He gazes at me, searching my face, questioning, but not afraid. There’s a sadness to my smile as he pulls out my hair tie. Then I take off my own t-shirt and gather him into my arms. Our pulses meld together, too jittery, too fast, as the warmth of the room presses in on us, a third heartbeat. I lean forward again to kiss his lips, my tongue exploring his mouth deeper and deeper, my hands stroking his chest, tweaking his hardened nipples, and brushing against his tummy.
The moment I place my palm over his new erection, he breaks the kiss. “No. You don’t want this.”
No? I slide down the length of his torso, and start to kiss a path along the soft skin of his thighs, teasing his balls with a few strands of my fringe, pushing him back to the floor with one hand. I nibble and lick my way up his dick, drooling over it, exhaling a warm breath, tormenting him sweetly. My intent is to move up to his belly and down again, but he grabs my shoulders and forces me level with his glare. My smile dies altogether, leaving only shadows to play with my heart. “What’s the matter?”
“Guess.”
I sit up, facing the heater instead. I take a sip of my coffee, though it’s gone cold during my unexpected—and apparently undesired—display of passion. Am I not allowed to want to give myself to you now?
You’re assuming you ever had a choice. Tears sting my eyes as those words return to haunt and mock me. Is this how it is? Do you want her still, after all she’s done?
All I’ve done.
“You—you don’t have to stay, you don’t have to pretend, if I’m not the one to make you happy,” I manage to choke out. My voice sounds so pathetic, so small.
He remains on the floor, silent. He’s watching me, but I can’t read his expression. I thought—I thought I’d begun to understand you, but this? What is this?
Faith. I wrap my arms around myself to contain my shivering.
Finally, he says, “I’m not faking it for you, Peg. It’s—not that, okay?”
Sure. Whatever. “So—?” I press anyway, unable to help myself.
He shrugs. “You never— You never say it.” When my only response is a twitch, he finds himself forced to elaborate. “You’ve never once told me you…love me.”
My shivers spread to within as I glare at him, showing just enough pain to make him flinch. Good. “Just because I never say it doesn’t mean it’s not the truth. This is the whole basis of faith.”
“I don’t believe in faith.” He raises himself up on his elbows. Is he ready to walk again?
No, not this time. Not this time when I’ve done nothing wrong. When you’ve done nothing wrong.
I pounce on him and pin him to the floor by his wrists. You will not run from me, not like this. You need to see the truth. “That’s not the truth.”
A shaky sigh escapes his lips, but he can’t escape me. Drawing in a deep breath, I gather the last of my courage about me. “There’s only one way to show you,” I whisper, brushing the hair off his face. Strange that we should be so frightened now. But no more.
This stops. Tonight.
One last kiss, before I tell him, “This is all I have, Raven.
“It’s time.”
Where to buy the book/e-book
Thank you for reading the free excerpt of the novel Trapdoor by Vixen Phillips!
If you have enjoyed the story so far, you may be interested in finishing the book, which is available as a $2.99 e-book edition or in a $12.99 paperback format (*prices listed in US dollars.)
The e-book may be purchased for Kindle at Amazon: http://www.amazon.com/dp/B004DI7LOS
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It is also available at the Apple iBookstore, Sony, and Barnes & Noble.
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For more information about the novel, visit http://trapdoor.lostviolet.com
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Food for the mind
Trapdoor Page 17