“Lexi, you’re too valuable to not explore how your gift works.”
“Let’s agree to disagree. Anyway, what made you believe me instead of thinking I was insane?” He frowns at me again. “I mean, why did you believe me?”
His lips turn up in a smile. “My mom used to tell me of a witch her mother knew back in the village where they lived.”
“Village?”
“My grandparents came from France.”
“France?” This shocks me. I was expecting him to say either Italy or Russia. He has dark coloration, dark eyes, dark hair, even an olive skin tone. I never would’ve taken him for having French heritage.
“Yeah, France, why do you sound so shocked? Don’t tell me, you group people in my line of work as Italian . . . perhaps Russian?”
My face floods with color, and I’m embarrassed to admit it. “Yeah.”
“Stereotyping, are you? France is one of the most profitable hubs for underworld activities because it draws from neighboring countries for drugs, girls and guns.”
“Wow,” I whisper, genuinely shocked to learn this. Bile rises to the back of my throat when he says ‘girls.’ How sickening.
“As I was saying, my grandparents lived in France, in a remote village, and my mom told me of a witch who could foresee the future simply by reading a person’s palm. My mother never believed her, until the witch grabbed hold of my mom’s hand when she was fifteen and told her of a man who was going to pass through the village. This man was considerably older, and he had a young son, slightly older than my mother. The man was going to try to rape my mother and his son was going to kill him.”
“Whoa. So much darkness and horror.” I listen intently as Jude continues the story of the old lady, his mother, and the men passing through.
“Sure enough, three days later an older man and his son were passing through and asked for a place to spend the night. My mother’s parents, being good farm people, opened their home and invited the man and his son in.”
Stunned, and with my mouth open, I sit staring at Jude, lost in his story. I’m so drawn in to listening to this tale that I can’t help but lean in, glued to Jude.
“My grandfather sent my mother out to the farm to do some small job, and the man followed her out. He tried to rape her. His son saw this, and he was infatuated by my mother. He hit his father over the head with a shovel to get him off her, but the force of the hit cracked his skull and killed him instantly.”
“Your mother told you this?” Jude nods his head. “And you believe it?”
He sits back, shocked that I’m even questioning it. “Why wouldn’t I?”
“I mean, if we were reading this in a book, or watching a movie we’d both be saying this is a load of shit.”
“This ain’t no movie, and definitely no book. Look at you, you have the ability to see a person’s future when you touch them. Nothing made up about you or your gift.”
“In a world where everything is supposed to be black or white, I have to accept there’s so many variants of color in between. Makes me wonder what else in life is true.” I run my hand over my eyebrows and try to focus on what we’re talking about now, instead of going off in a tangent. “But what happened with your mom and the boy who killed his father?”
“They left the village, and came here.”
“Wait, the boy who saved your mom became your dad?” He nods his head. “And they moved here?” He nods again, but this time adds a smile. “Why didn’t they stay there?”
“Because they thought no one would believe his father was trying to rape my mother. They decided to leave, and never go back. They thought it was their only option. To disappear.”
“Did they ever return to France?”
“Nope. Once they came here, they got married and lived their life.”
He takes a deep breath and continues eating what’s left on his plate. “How did your dad get into . . . you know, the business?” Even saying it aloud sounds stupid. ‘The business,’ sounds illicit and mysterious, and dumb.
“He killed another man.”
“After his father?” Jude nods. Looking past Jude, I’m trying to not focus on the obvious, that Jude has been brought up in a family where killing was okay. That must really mess with a person’s head. “Do I want to know?” I finally ask, breaking the restless tension in the air.
“You know what, Lexi.” He abruptly stands. “I don’t think you do. It’s stuff nightmares are made of. Actually, it’s stuff the nightmares are afraid of. So no, I won’t tell you anymore. You don’t need to know.” There’s something behind his tone. It’s dripping with remorse, and another emotion I can’t quite put my finger on. It’s almost like he’s trying to protect me from the ghosts of his past.
Picking my fork up, I manage to eat two more bites before Frank appears and clears the table. “Do I get to finish?” I ask while Frank’s halfway across the kitchen with my plate.
“I promised to take you out. So, let’s go.”
“But . . .” I follow Frank with my eyes and pout to Jude.
“Trust me on this one, you’ll enjoy it.”
“Fine,” I groan as I stand. “Are you going to tell me where we’re going?”
“And spoil the surprise? Never.”
Of course not. We head out of the kitchen, and I call to Frank, “Thanks for dinner, Frank.”
“You’re welcome, Miss Lexi,” Frank replies. He’s a nice man; I like him.
When we get to the front door, the guard opens it and stands to the side. The limousine is waiting for us, and the replacement driver has the back door open. “What happened with the other driver?”
Jude peers over at me, his eye brows flying up high. “Do you want an honest answer?”
Ugh, not now. “I’m good.” I shake my head. With his response, I’m fairly sure I already know the answer. I don’t need to hear it to confirm what I’m thinking.
“Tell me something about you, Lexi.”
“Don’t you have everything you need to know on file in your office, locked in the safe?”
“You know about the safe?” he asks with a hint of worry.
I swing my head around to look at him. And this time, it’s me who’s thinking he’s a dumb-ass. “Now I do. But it’s obvious to me, that a man like yourself, in your line of work, would have a safe. So yes, I know there’ll be a safe, somewhere, and likely there’ll be several of them.” The amused look in his eyes makes his entire face light up. “Thought so,” I add.
“Considering you know about the safe, or safes, which I won’t confirm, I’ll answer your question. Yes, I have a file on you, and yes, it’s locked in one of my safes.”
My mouth falls open and I feel like smacking my head. He just established two things. One: the fact he has multiple safes, and two: he has a file on me. “What’s the something you want to know?”
“Do you have a boyfriend?”
The question is surprising, and totally not any of his business. “Why, would you kidnap him so we’d be living together in your house?”
Jude’s face falters, his eyes narrow and he clenches his jaw together tightly. His Adam’s apple bobs up and down as he swallows. I notice how his hands ball together into tight fists. “Do you have one, or not, Lexi?”
“None of your damn business, Jude. Anyway, who cares if I did or didn’t, because I’m never going to see him again,” my voice rises along with the anger simmering away inside me.
“Damn right you’re not going to see him again. But, who is he?”
“I’m not telling you shit, you have no reason to know.”
“Like hell I don’t.”
My blood is now boiling with rage. How dare he demand to know. “None of your damn business,” I say with an eerily calm voice. My placid tone is definitely not a reflection of the fury he’s inviting.
“Alexa.” He wraps his fingers around my upper arm, and tugs me back toward him.
I look at his hand and see how he’s carefully sheathed his fingers with
the fabric of my t-shirt. “I’m not telling you.”
He drops his hand, but not before applying a bit too much pressure around my upper arm. Squeezing . . . warning me. He scrubs his hand over his face, and huffs a few times. “Please, I’d like to know if you have a boyfriend?” this time his voice is calm.
“That’s better. I prefer this tone to the angry one. But it’s still none of your damn business. Don’t expect an answer.”
“For fuck’s sake!” he yells.
I flinch at his outburst. But I straighten my shoulders and hold my head high. I refuse to tell him, even though doing so would be much easier. I won’t give him this part of me. He doesn’t need to know.
Looking out the window, I can’t see much. It’s too dark outside. I take this time, and the extreme silence in the car to calm down and not react to him. He’s an idiot if he thinks I’m going to answer the question.
Before long, my blood pressure settles and my rapid breathing returns to normal. Still looking out the window, I notice the surroundings. “Where are we, Jude?” I sit up straighter in the back seat and stare as we approach my home.
“You know where we are.”
“Are you going to let me see my parents? Am I free?” I ask with so much hope in my voice. My body is buzzing with excitement. He’s letting me go. I’m free. My shoulders shake with enthusiasm as I stare out the window. Bursting with elation at finally seeing them again. It’s been weeks since he took me.
The silence in the car screams at me.
Something’s not right.
Turning to look at Jude, I see the seriousness on his face. He shakes his head at me, and my heart tears into two. “No, I’m not letting you go.”
Sorrow dampens every ounce of excitement. A blanket of hurt wraps around my body. My shoulders slump, and heart falls into the pit of my stomach. “Are you going to kill them? Please don’t, I’ll do better. I promise, I’ll stop talking back. Please, Jude, please don’t kill them.” Tears leak out of my eyes, as I launch myself at him. “I don’t have a boyfriend, I never wanted one. Please, see I’m trying, please,” I shamelessly beg.
“I’m not going to kill them.”
I move away from him, sitting back in my seat. The sobs give way to just light tears. “Then why did you bring me here?”
“I know how sad you’ve been, Lexi, and I thought this might ease the pain.”
We pull up opposite my house. It’s dark outside, but I can see the house so clearly. My heart hurts. I want to run up the front path, fling the door open and hurl myself in the arms of my parents. Jude knocks on the glass, and a moment later someone walks up to Dad’s car, which is parked in the street, and swings a baseball bat at the headlight.
“What’s he doing?” I place my hand on the handle, ready to push the door open and go run after the guy.
Jude stops me by grabbing hold of the back of my t-shirt, preventing me from leaving the car.
The guy runs off, and within seconds a car takes off past us. I recognize the car as one of Jude’s. The light on the porch comes on, the door flies open and Dad bounds outside. “Daddy,” I cry, seeing him in his pajamas. Placing my hand on the window, I watch as Mom follows seconds later. “Mommy,” I whisper.
They both look like they’ve aged decades. They’ve lost so much weight, and even though it’s dark and I’m not close to them, I can still see the dark circles beneath their eyes. They look so sad, and so lost.
My heart breaks even more seeing them as close as they are, but unable to go to them and give them a hug. Dad looks down the street, then up and then directly at the car. “Daddy.” More tears fall. “Please, Jude, let me have one more hug. Just one more word,” I beg. “Please.” I don’t dare look at Jude, because I want to soak my parents up. I want to stare at them for as long as I can before they leave to go back inside.
“I’m sorry, Alexa, I can’t.”
“Please?” I beg fruitlessly. I can’t have one more hug and leave again. I’d embrace them and never let them go. “I’ll do anything you want, I just need them to see I’m okay and stop worrying for me. Please, Jude, please.”
Dad turns to look at Mom, and they both head back inside. Where’s Marcus or Laura? Why aren’t they protecting my parents?
I beg again, this time through heavy sobs. I bash on the window, calling for my parents who are now inside the house.
Jude knocks on the glass divider and the car rolls away quietly.
“Why did you bring me here?” I ask. Venom spilling from my mouth. Hatred filling my veins.
“I can’t let you go, Lexi, but I wanted you to see your parents. It’s the best I can do for you.”
I blink the tears away, and compose myself. Turning, I look at Jude. “I’ve never hated you more than I do right now. You gave me a glimpse of what my life could be, and then you rip it away like you don’t care at all.”
“Problem is, I do care.”
“You have a funny way of showing it.” I turn back and close my eyes, containing the tears that want to fall. “Never bring me here again.”
It completely destroys my heart to think of never seeing my parents again. But it’s what I have to do to make sure I survive through this, and that they survive too.
My heart is broken, and now my soul is too.
I cried the night we came back from seeing my parents. Like an arrow directly to my heart, it created such a gaping hole that I don’t think it’ll ever mend.
I cried the next day too, and refused to leave my prison.
And I cried the next day.
But it was on the third day of me crying, that I decided I had to do exactly whatever it was in order to survive. And that meant I had to pull my shoulders back, stop crying, and harness this gift I was given.
I spent the entire day yesterday trying to figure out how it works. But considering it didn’t come with an instruction manual, all I got was frustrated.
Today, I’m going to attempt to understand this ability more comprehensively. Jumping out of bed with a new-found mission, I change into a t-shirt and shorts and head out into the kitchen.
Jude looks up from his tablet and smiles at me. “Good morning. You’re up early,” he says as he watches me.
I’ve made a vow to myself, I’m going to master this thing I have, and I’m going to use it for my own personal gain. Not Jude’s and not anyone else’s.
“I am.” Frank walks over and places a mug down. “Thank you, Frank.” I gently place my hand on his and I’m instantly in his home.
He’s staring up at the wedding photo of him and Janet, and he’s nursing a cup of something. “She talked to me today, sweetheart,” he says to his wife. “She came out of her room, and she wasn’t crying. That made my day.”
“Aww, you’re so beautiful,” I say as I stand beside him.
Frank’s head whips to the side as he drops the mug he’s holding. “Is there someone here?” he calls out while looking directly at me, without knowing I’m here.
I take a few deep breaths, and try to shuffle forward so I’m standing nearly nose to nose with him. “Can you hear me, Frank?”
“Hello?”
He can obviously hear something, because he’s responding to me. I close my eyes and calm my erratic heartbeat.
Taking deep breaths, I pour all my focus into moving closer to him, and him hearing me. Opening my eyes, I stare at Frank, whose face has drained of color. His eyes are wide with fear, and he’s holding onto the mantel below the picture of him and his wife.
“Frank,” I say.
“Hello? Who’s there?”
My skin sparks alive, as the hair on the back of my neck stands to attention. “Frank, can you hear me?”
“Janet? Janet, sweetheart.” Tears pour down his cheeks as he tries to identify the source of the sound. “Is it my time to come to you? Please tell me it is.”
“Frank, it’s Lexi.”
Frank’s shaking his head while still looking in my direction. He rubs his hands over hi
s eyes, and then his ears. “Sweetheart, it’s okay if you’ve come for me. I’m ready, really I am.”
Reaching out to touch him, I’m transported back into the kitchen.
But this time, I’m on the ground, being cradled by Jude. “What happened?” I ask drowsily as I try and stand. My head is spinning, and I feel like I’m about to throw up.
“Are you okay?” Jude asks.
Trying to get my bearings, I look around the kitchen. Frank has the most astounded look on his pale face. His eyes are like small slits with his bushy brows drawn together.
Jude stands and picks me up, like I’m his bride and walks me toward my room. “What happened back there, Lexi?”
Looking down at his arms, I see he’s wearing a long-sleeved shirt, his hands covered with black leather gloves. “I’m not sure.”
“What did you do?” he asks in a calm voice. “You grabbed hold of Frank’s hand, and within seconds your eyes rolled into the back of your head and you began having a seizure.”
“What?” Is this why my head feels fuzzy?
“What are you trying to do? Why did you grab hold of his hand?” He opens the door to my suite, then walks me into my bedroom, where he gently places me on my bed. I crawl up the bed, and hug my knees. He goes into the kitchen area, where I hear the tap running. A few seconds pass before he brings over a glass of water. “Here, drink this.”
Hesitantly I reach out to grab the glass and have a small mouthful. “Thank you.”
He sits on the end of the bed, and links his gloved hands together. “What are you doing?”
The fuzziness in my head begins to lift, and I look down at the glass encased in my hands. “I’m finding it hard to be here. Especially after you took me to see my parents.”
He nods his head and leans his elbow on his knee. “It was a mistake for me to take you there. It won’t happen again.”
“It can’t happen again, Jude. I’m trying to learn to survive in your world, and flaunting my parents to me without letting me talk to them or hug them, sucks and it hurts. It hurts so much, that the only way I can get through it is if I can master what this thing I have is, so I know how to use it properly.”
The Gift: The Butterfly Effect, Book 1. Page 15