Witchblood

by Emma Mills

  Chapter Nine

  The next couple of hours passed in a blur, as Eva slipped into fashion fiend mode and became a mini-whirlwind, powering me from shop to shop. We found a beautifully cut black suit with a demure, yet shapely pencil skirt and fashionably short cropped jacket. To this I added a fitted pure white shirt and cute patent leather ballet pumps. I still didn’t feel comfortable in heels, much to Eva’s dismay, and insisted flats would be much more practical for the job in hand.

  After our earlier chat, Eva didn’t bring up the subject of my soul again and the two hours flew by as we chatted about clothes and film star gossip. Before I knew it I was back at the house and feeling lighter for a trip out.

  Daniel was watching a footie game as usual, and what baffled me was how you could switch the TV on almost any day of the week and find football. Be it a cup game, league game or a World Cup Qualifier, and just in case that wasn’t enough, it seemed that even the under seventeen games were televised.

  Unusually, when I sat down next to him his eyes actually left the screen and he looked at me, worry creasing the skin around his beautiful dark eyes.

  ‘How was it?’ he asked, and I knew it was a loaded question.

  ‘It was fine, honestly. I got a great suit,’ I said, as I snuggled into the curve of his arm and avoided his gaze. I didn’t want to worry him anymore, and just needed a few minutes peace before I got ready for the afternoon’s ordeal.

  An hour later I was sitting in Daniel’s car wearing my new suit. I had my hair tied back in a sleek ponytail and was staring out of the car windows at the house I knew so well.

  Flashbacks coursed through my head - visions of my dad playing with me in the garden, both of us washing his car and spraying each other with water, me squealing as he chased me round the car. Another of me, older this time, sneaking a kiss from a boyfriend, as my dad watched stonily from behind the living room curtains. My whole life had been played out here, and this was the last time I’d get to go inside.

  ‘Come on,’ Daniel said, smiling and holding the door open for me. Eva had already gone up the path and opened the door quickly. Where they’d got the key from I didn’t want to know, and therefore didn’t ask. ‘Just get inside and get the job done’, I told myself. I could do this, I could. As I walked up the path, I glanced nervously at the neighbours’ windows, but no one was there. This made sense, as both houses belonged to working families, the kids at school and the parents at work.

  I entered the house, my house, and was once again bombarded with memories. It was like dying all over again, and I saw myself riding on my dad’s back when I was only four, screaming with laughter as he crawled on his hands and knees, pretending to be my horse. I saw myself standing on a kitchen chair, as I helped my mum bake fairy buns when I was six, and finally I saw the stroppy thirteen year old me, screaming and shouting, before running up the stairs two at a time, and slamming my bedroom door so hard it cracked the door frame. I winced as I remembered how unreasonable I thought they were being. What I’d give to be able to scream and shout at them again.

  I jumped and came back to the present with a jolt, as Daniel took my arm and gently steered me into the living room, closing the front door behind us. I struggled to block out the memories which kept surfacing, each becoming more painful, the closer they became. Finally, I closed my eyes on the image of Luke twirling me round the living-room floor to the ‘Strictly Come Dancing’ final. It had been a week before Christmas; a mere couple of months ago. We’d both shrieked with laughter, my beautiful ring sparkling in the lights from the tree. It wasn’t an engagement ring or anything, but it was the best Christmas present I’d had. I knew he wouldn’t have bought it for me if he didn’t love me and my dad’s face had been hysterical when he thought I was getting engaged at seventeen.

  As the memory faded I looked down at my bare hand, and with another jolt realised I’d not seen it since I had woken to this new life.

  ‘Where’s my ring, Daniel?’ I shouted. ‘Did you take it away because you wanted me all to yourself? Did you think I’d forget about him if I didn’t have it? Did you think it would be easier to get over him, if I didn’t have it to remind me how much he loved me?’ I shouted at Daniel, fury bringing bile to my throat. I felt the familiar confusion and tumult of feelings swirling uncontrollably within, and wondered briefly if I should try and fling Daniel across the room. That would show them! I stared at him aggressively, all tenderness forgotten, as I waited for his answer, the windows vibrating slightly in their frames.

  ‘Is that what you think of me Jessica? How can you think I’d do that to you?’ His eyes shone with a fury that was hard to bear, and I could see a mixture of hurt and indignation well from within, as he turned from me and walked from the room.

  ‘Stupid girl! Dan would never have done that to you. I may have done it, if there’d been a ring to remove, but there wasn’t. Those girls probably took it,’ Eva said, her voice distinctively chilly.

  ‘Oh, I’m sor..’ I started to apologise, but she interrupted.

  ‘It’s not me you need to apologise to, but I suggest you give him some time to calm down first. You can make yourself useful by checking this room. It won’t take long, because I’m pretty sure your father wouldn’t hide whatever he was keeping from you in here, but check the backs of cupboards and the top book shelves, while I go upstairs.’

  I looked down and felt like an impetuous teenager again. All the fury and emotion had left my body as quickly as it arrived and I was left feeling rather silly, not at all looking forward to seeing Daniel and apologising. I mean, I wanted to apologise, I did, but I didn’t want to see the hurt in his eyes, hurt that I’d caused, after he’d done everything possible to protect me.

  There was nothing for it but to get stuck in and at least try to do something right. I couldn’t accept their belief, that I had a different birth mother, but the more I thought about it, the more questions I had. It was true that my mother didn’t look like me, and we had very different personalities, but that didn’t mean anything.

  It does seem strange now, that when my parents moved into a new house they lost their very first photo album, with all my baby photos in it. In fact, it only occurred to me now, when I thought it through, how my father had also said my birth certificate had been lost. I’d needed it the previous year, when applying for my student loan, and dad had suddenly gone all weird, which I put down to his drinking. He insisted that he’d sort it out for me, and in the end I think he bought another copy and posted it off to the local authority himself. I never saw it; but then what seventeen year old bothers to sort out stuff like that, if their dad offers to do it for them? I had more important things to check out, like which student accommodation was closest to Luke’s! However, that new birth certificate would be my key. Could my father have had an ulterior motive? I couldn’t think about it. It was too weird.

  I started searching the room, but glancing around, I knew nothing was different. I’d find nothing here. I knew, because it was exactly as I’d left it a month ago when I’d last been home for a visit - or more like a house clean. With my dad being an alcoholic, he was barely able to look after himself, never mind the house. So every couple of weeks I’d been coming home to clean and tidy for him, and do some washing - another reason I could never have left Manchester.

  In the three weeks that I’d been dead, my father had obviously done nothing other than drink and watch TV, because nothing was out of place. Only the waste paper basket, which was kept on the floor by the sofa, stood out. During Christmas, Luke and I had filled it with brightly-coloured chocolate wrappers, but it was now overflowing with beer bottles, and more alarmingly, three full–size, empty whisky bottles. Oh Dad! I sighed and sat down heavily on the sofa, the weight of his loss pressing down and beginning to smother me. I bent my head and covered my face, feeling a single tear slowly trace a line down my cheek.

  The door opened quickly, and a second later there was a slight pressure next to me on th
e sofa as Daniel sat down, his strong arms around my shoulders, drawing me to him. I looked up through blurry eyes and took in his beautiful face, full of compassion and tenderness, not something you’d ever expect to see in the face of a vampire.

  ‘I shouldn’t have left you Jess. I’m sorry,’ he said.

  ‘No Daniel, it’s me who’s sorry. If I’d stopped to think for one moment, I’d have known you would never have taken my ring. It was stupid and hurtful. I’m sorry, I really am,’ I said quietly, resting my head against his rock-like shoulder. ‘Have you found anything?’ I asked.

  ‘No, not yet, but I was just about to go up into the attic, if you want to come with me?’ he asked. ‘I take it there’s nothing here?’

  ‘No. I tidy, er...tidied this room for dad and nothing has changed except the bin full of bottles,’ I said.

  ‘Come on,’ he said nodding, and led me from the room.

  Just as we started up the stairs, a whoop sounded from the upstairs bedroom.

  ‘I’ve got it. I’ve got the birth certificate,’ Eva shouted to us.

  Daniel, who was one step up from me, turned back and glanced at me quickly. My face was frozen with trepidation.

  ‘Come on,’ she added, as we bolted up the stairs two at a time.

  A couple of seconds later I was facing Eva, as she passed me the brown envelope. I sat on the bed, holding the paper in my hands, wondering how it was going to change my life. Was I right? Was this the key to my strange newfound abilities? All manner of questions flew through my head as I opened the envelope and with trembling fingers pulled out the inconspicuous looking piece of paper. The details washed over me like icy water as I read:

  Name of child – Jessica Angel James;

  Angel, I didn’t even know I had a middle name!

  Sex – Female

  Place of birth – Manchester

  Date of Birth - 20 April 1993

  Name of father – William Alexander James

  Name of Mother – Laurie Lynn James

  Oh My God! What the? I stared and stared at those three words. It couldn’t be true. It should say Karen James. My mother’s name was Karen.

  Eva sat beside me on the bed, and she and Daniel gazed at me with concern.

  ‘You were right, I have a different mother,’ I said trying to contain the swirling emotions. ‘Did you read this before you called us?’ I asked.

  ‘I wouldn’t have known what it was without opening it,’ she said nodding. ‘I’m sorry if it’s a shock, but at least we can appease Sebastian, and give him another little project to work on.’

  This was my life she was dismissing with her flippant little quips. I wanted to punch her and run from the room, from my past, from my life. Everything had changed, my whole past had changed. My father had lied to me my whole life, my mum was not my mother, and it was all Eva’s fault! She had to push and push, and push until she ruined everything! I felt myself tense as if preparing for a fight.

  ‘Eva, leave us alone a minute,’ Daniel said sharply, cutting into the vortex of my thoughts with an icy blast.

  I was surprised at the tone in which he spoke to Eva and wondered if he’d get away with it. However she must have picked up on the urgency as she merely flicked her eyes from his to mine, then back again before getting up from the bed and quietly leaving the room, closing the door behind her.

  Daniel turned me slightly so that I faced him and crushed his lips to mine. As I felt my anger subside he pulled back and spoke softly.

  ‘She is still your mother you know. Nothing can change that. She loved you and looked after you. She’ll always be your mother. A piece of paper cannot change that.’ My eyes blurred as his words sank in and I nodded thankfully. ‘It just means your genetic heritage is different, and hopefully we can find out where your new abilities come from,’ he added thoughtfully, as I nodded again, still unable to talk.

  ‘Now, if you think you can carry on for a bit, I have a feeling there is more to find. I don’t know about you, but to me, Laurie Lynn doesn’t sound like a British name, especially a nineteen sixties British name!’ he said smiling at me.

  ‘No! It’s SO not British. It’s more like ‘Laahrie Lynn,’ I said in an American drawl, somehow managing to push my tumult of emotions away again and smile through the tears.

  ‘Right! Just what I was thinking. So if she was American she must have been married to your father, because she has his name, James. We need to find out her maiden name and what happened to her. Have you ever heard your dad mention a woman named Laurie?’ He asked.

  ‘No, never.’ I closed my eyes and screwed them up in the hopes that I’d remember something, but nothing came. I shook my head.

  ‘OK, well now we need their marriage certificate to trace her identity; and I think the loft is the best place to look.’ I nodded again. I just couldn’t think of anything sensible to say, as my mind was a blank.

  ‘Look, don’t worry, I’ll go up there. I think it’s all a bit much for you. Why don’t you go back down to the lounge? Take this bag and get any odd things you want to keep. You won’t be able to come back Jessica,’ he said softly, handing me a scrunched up supermarket bag he had in his back pocket. ‘So it won’t matter if you just take a few small things, and a couple of photos out of the albums. You could have taken them when you went to university, so it won’t look out of place.’

  He led me out of Dad’s room, after I’d quickly grabbed the small photo frame from the bedside table of Mum, Dad and me on holiday in Greece when I was ten. I stalled outside my bedroom, wondering whether to go in or not. I badly wanted to and knew there’d be loads of stuff I’d want, but I hung back, knowing the trauma it would cause to my fragile emotions. As I dithered, the door burst open and Eva came out, a cardboard box in her arms. I looked at her, shocked, but she smiled warmly at me, my earlier misdemeanour forgotten.

  ‘Jess, I thought it might make things worse if you went in there, so I went to see if I could find anything, and I found this.’ She jiggled the rather heavy-looking box in her arms effortlessly. It had ‘Jessie’ written on the side in my dad’s handwriting. ‘It’s all the stuff he brought home from your university flat. I guessed that would probably be the stuff you’d want anyway, so I’ll put it in the car and you can look through it later,’ she said. I smiled at her, thankful that she’d done the hardest task for me.

  ‘Eva? You haven’t edited it, have you? I mean removed anything you think I might find too upsetting?’ I asked, smiling and raising an eyebrow.

  ‘No, I wouldn’t dare! After all I wouldn’t want you to punch me, would I?’ she said grinning. Ooops! How did she know about that? Honestly couldn’t a girl have any privacy? Before I could stammer out a reply she’d gone, whisking away the box, down the stairs and out of the front door.

  Whilst this exchange had been going on, Daniel had been pulling the loft ladder out and had disappeared up it, into the attic. I heard him pulling a box along the floor above me and his feet appeared through the hole, quickly followed by the rest of him, carrying a large cardboard box.

  ‘Apart from the Christmas decorations right at the entrance hole, and a box of children’s toys, this was the only other box up there. As it was hidden in the far corner of the attic, I’m pretty sure this is what we are looking for,’ he said.

  I stepped towards him, drawn by the secrets the box may hold. It looked old, that’s for sure, and it was taped up securely, but it had nothing written on it.

  ‘We’re not opening it now, Jess,’ he said. He seemed to know instinctively not to call me Jessie in my dad’s house. It just wouldn’t feel right.

  ‘Come on, let’s find you some photos,’ he added, walking past me with the mysterious box, and down the stairs.

  He handed the box to Eva, who in turn took it out to the car to put with the other one, and then he steered me back into the living room.

  ‘Daniel, I was wondering, do you think I could take both of the full albums? I mean, apart from dad and me we
had no other close family. His parents are both dead and after my mum died we didn’t see her family again. They live down south somewhere,’ I shrugged, and carried on. ‘The only person I know of who might come and sort out our things is dad’s older sister, my Auntie Joan, but she lives up in Newcastle and I haven’t seen her in about five years. She, and no-one else for that matter, would be concerned if the family albums disappeared. No-one would look for them, and if they did it’s plausible that in his grief he threw them away. Please Daniel, it’s all I have left of my family,’ I said, feeling my throat constricting and my eyes blur with more tears.

  Daniel stood quietly, watching me thoughtfully, before taking two quick steps over to the bookcase and swiftly lifting the albums down. He shuffled the remaining books along the shelf to fill in the gaps and giving me a quick smile, inclined his head to the doorway.

  ‘Let’s get out of here and get you home.’ I smiled at him, relieved I didn’t have to start going through them to choose the photos I liked best, and instead held my arms out for them.

  ‘Not today, you’re not ready. Don’t worry. I’ll keep them safe for you,’ he said, shaking his head. ‘Come on,’ and he left me standing in the middle of the room, alone.

  ‘Daniel?’ I called him back and he popped his head back round the door.

  ‘Yes?’

  ‘You go. I’ll be with you in two minutes, I promise. I just want to say goodbye,’ I said, hoping he would understand.

  He nodded and disappeared again, calling to Eva as he went. A second later I heard muted whispers and then the front door closed quietly.

  Alone in my house, it suddenly felt cold and still. I looked around, but after seeing the bottle-laden waste bin once more, I realised this was not the place where I could find my dad. I went back upstairs to his room and sat on his side of the bed. There was a half-full glass of water still sitting by the bed, along with his reading glasses and a packet of paracetamol.

  Looking around I picked up his pillow, inhaling deeply. Instantly, I was thrown back into the swirling pot of my memories, so I closed my eyes to stop the tears welling and lay down, curling up on his duvet, my head on his pillow. ‘Oh Dad, I wish I’d seen you one last time,’ I whispered.

  Knowing I didn’t have long, I slowly uncurled and lay back, looking up at the faded ceiling.

  ‘Why didn’t you tell me? Why did you hide her from me? It wouldn’t have mattered. I’ll always love mum. I wish you’d told me.’ I sighed again, wishing I could hear an answer, but all was silent. I had to go. They wouldn’t wait long; it wouldn’t be safe.

  Getting up from the bed I took a final look around, I scrubbed the tears from my eyes. I needed to toughen up.

  ‘Love you,’ I whispered one last time. Before I went downstairs, I walked towards my bedroom. I opened the door and took one step into the empty room. The posters were still on the walls, the photos of Luke and Mum beside my bed, the jammed bookshelves and the grown-out-of games peeping out from under my neatly-made bed. My old battered Ted was sitting on the pillow looking at me beseechingly, so I quickly crossed the room and grabbed him. Holding him in a tight embrace, I fled from the room and its memories, raced down the stairs as if the dogs from hell were on my heels, took a final glance around the empty house and rushed through the door.