by Sarah Noffke
During my time in Peavey I considered my relationship with Dahlia. It was the best part of my life. The only portion of my life that wasn’t somehow marked with greed, deceit, or disappointment. And being with her was easy, even from the beginning. We’d been together for over a year and I firmly believed that to wrap my life around hers and enjoy many years together was a very real possibility. Each year that I committed myself to Dahlia would lace a noose more decisively around my spirit. And when she died before me, as I knew she would, then I’d be gone too. But I’d also still be forced to walk this earth. Without her.
I’d been in London for only a week after my stay in Peavey when I made plans to meet Dahlia. I told her I needed to have an extended holiday with her. I told her that it would help me heal after my mum’s death. She canceled a month of tour dates and agreed to meet me at a resort in the Swiss Alps. It would have been a simple trip for me. I’d only have to dream travel there and generate my body using a local GAD-C. There would be a short car trip, but that’s all. Dahlia took a twelve-hour flight from Los Angeles to Switzerland, and then she drove a few hours after that. It wasn’t a short trip, but she thought it would be worth it because we’d be together for three long weeks.
I’m not sure how long she waited at the resort before she realized something was wrong. The calls came in a day later. She sent people to my flat, as I suspected she’d do. I ignored it all. I never had any intention of joining Dahlia for an extended holiday. I’d stood her up. And I knew she’d hate me after this. That was exactly the point. If you tell people to leave you alone then they become more obsessed with you. You’re the forbidden fruit. However, if you’re wicked and cruel, then they stay as far away as possible. I’m a master of relationships. It just happens that I know how to both make people love and hate me, and I prefer for most people to do the latter.
Two days after our scheduled rendezvous in the Swiss Alps Dahlia knocked at my door. “Open up, Ren,” she yelled through the door. “I know you’re in there.”
The very last person she’d sent to my flat I’d told off. I told them to quit following Dahlia’s orders and leave me alone before I called the authorities. Word would have gotten back to her that I was home and ignoring all her attempts to find me.
I unlocked the door and then strode for my armchair. By the time I sat down and crossed my legs Dahlia had entered and marched through the flat, and stood only six feet from me. She pinned her hands on her hips and considered me with a terrible look. Her hair and dress were perfect as always, but she’d obviously had a rough couple of days judging by the circles under her eyes.
“Ren, what is going on? Are you all right?” She sounded half angry and half concerned.
“Yes, I’m fine,” I said with a bored sigh. “And I think it’s obvious what’s going on.”
“Not to me. You stood me up in Switzerland. You don’t take my calls. You send my guards away with a series of insults. I get that you’ve had a rough month, but why all this?” she said.
I picked up the glass of Chianti on the side table and took a long few swallows. The stuff tasted repulsive. No one actually likes wine. They just like being snotty about what they choose to get drunk on. “I changed my mind,” I finally said.
“About going to Switzerland?” Dahlia said, eyeing the glass of wine with a strange expression.
“No, I changed my mind about us,” I said and drained the rest of the wine.
“What are you doing?” she said, narrowing her eyes at me. “You don’t drink.”
“I’ve decided to start. It’s a nasty habit, don’t you think?” I grabbed the bottle on the table and filled the glass almost to the brim. “Don’t I look like a pisshead to you? You can tell me if you think I look repulsive. I can take it.”
She knelt down by my knee, daring to put her hand on it, a compassionate look on her face. “No, you look like someone who has been through a big ordeal and now you’re acting out. You don’t have to. I want to be here for you.”
“Look, I’m not a toddler throwing a bloody tantrum,” I said, and threw her hand off my leg. “I’m a man who is giving you a very direct message.”
She stood, failing to hide the scornful look on her face. “Ren, this isn’t you.”
“Really, Dahlia,” I said, taking a casual sip of wine, my head already starting to float from the effect of the poison. “I’m the one who gets into people’s heads and makes them yell obscenities in public. I’m the one who forces rich men to give me their money. I’m the one who has seduced, through mind control, hundreds of women to shag me. This is me. I’m heartless. Greedy. And not this person you think I am, or otherwise you wouldn’t have come here.”
“So this is how you’re attempting to break up with me?” she said, an actual laugh spilling out of her mouth.
“No, this is me actually breaking up with you. I’m bored, Dahlia. We’ve had a good time, but we’re done now,” I said and almost gagged on my next swallow of wine.
“You can’t do this,” she said each word with a deliberate force.
“What you are too obtuse to understand is I can. I have,” I said, setting the glass on the table.
“Ren, I’ve never been in love in my entire life. And then I met you. I won’t ever feel this way about someone else. Don’t do this.”
“Dahlia, of course you’re in love with me. I’m incredible. And I’m incredible in the fact that I can make anyone love me. Why would I settle for just being with you?”
She gave a frustrated sigh. “Because I’m incredible too and you know it. We’re incredible together. And you don’t have to make me love you, I do of my own free will. And I love you not because you’re powerful, but because you’re gorgeously flawed. You are magnificent in your rebellious nature. Please don’t push me away.”
I looked at Dahlia. Considered her words. Everything about her was glorious, so much so it was too much at times. The angle of her jaw captured my attention in a way that felt wrong. The contours of her cheeks and shoulders. The shiny luster of her dark brown hair. The shade of her blue eyes. It was all too perfect. Like angels were incinerated and their ashes used to make her elegantly flawless form. And her voice. I’m certain it was ripped straight from an angel, leaving their vocal chords tattered and frayed. She was so perfect it was wrong.
“Have I ever said that I loved you?” I said finally.
She blinked in astonishment. “Well, no, but you do. You don’t have to say it for me to know.”
“I’d go and get a check-up on your instincts because they’re defective. I don’t love you.”
“Yes, you do, Ren. Don’t lie to me.”
“No, I don’t, because what you fail to see in your disillusioned head is that I’m incapable of love.” There, I said it. Finally. I’d thought it enough times, but it felt good to finally say it.
“That’s not true. Ren, you loved your mother.”
“Everyone loves their mother,” I said. “Even people with despicable mothers love them. It’s programmed into every mammal’s hardwiring.”
“But you really loved her, not just because she was your mother but because you felt close to her.”
“Not loved,” I said, my temper flaring. “I love my mother, but all of this talk doesn’t change the fact that you and I are done.”
“Why? Because I’m a Middling and I’m going to leave you just like she did?!” Dahlia roared, tears suddenly streaming down her cheeks.
I stared at her with what I hoped looked like quiet contempt. It’s not at all what I felt for her right then, but she couldn’t read minds.
“Yes, Ren, I see too clearly what you’re doing here. In your delusional head you’ve decided that if we make a life together, that one day you’ll bury me just as your heartbroken father has had to do with your mother. And you’ll go on to live a miserable forty or more years alone.”
“That’s not what this is about. So many things are so inherently wrong with what you’ve just said. Firstly,” I said, holdin
g up a single finger, “just the phrase ‘make a life together’ makes my skin crawl. People like me don’t make a life with other people. Secondly,” I ticked off another finger, “I will probably outlive you by way more than forty years. That is the thing here, Dahlia. You are a Middling. Did you think you really had a long-term future with a Dream Traveler? You will never understand me. Never enjoy my freedoms and powers. There’s a reason lions don’t mate with alley cats. They don’t belong together.”
“But your parents made it work,” she said, her tone pleading.
“No, they didn’t. Don’t you see? My mum is dead. My father lives on. That doesn’t work. And he gave up so much to be with her. But she was worth it, and you, Dahlia, are not.”
And there it was. The final blow. To force out that lie stole a piece of my blackened soul but it’s what she had to hear. Her eyes widened with disbelieving heartbreak. Her lips mashed together, pressing away the tears watering her eyes. She grabbed her purse and stalked past me without a single look. I sat there for a long time after I heard the door slam.
I thought that would be the end of that but of course, not for Dahlia. She had a stubborn nature to match mine. For three days she returned to my flat, beating at my door and leaving messages on my machine. She saw through the lies I was telling her. Dahlia saw why I’d pushed her away, and like an unstoppable crusader she was intent on breaking through my lies and making me accept her flawless case. Yes, we were perfect together. Yes, I loved her. And yes, one day I’d outlive her, but we would have had a happy life together. She would have broken down my walls as only Dahlia could do. She would have made me see this and accept her back. That’s why I did it. That’s why I made the final decision. I packed a single suitcase. Locked up my flat and left on a train to Paris. And I would not return to London for many decades. I left no clue to where I’d gone. I simply disappeared. Dahlia had no choice but to let me go. I was all but dead to her.
Chapter Sixteen
December 1996
Lyza was living in the south of France. I’d promised myself that I’d deal with her once I’d dealt with Dahlia. So a month after running from Dahlia, I lured my heartless sister to Paris using the one thing that I knew would work. Money. I told her that in Mum’s last will and testament she gave a sizable fortune and antique jewelry to Lyza. I told her that I’d hand it off to her if she met me in Paris. The part about having Mum’s jewelry was true but I was never going to turn it over to her.
Lyza met me in a cafe on Boulevard Saint-Germain. To my surprise she’d brought her “friends” with her. After university she’d fallen into a crowd of Dream Travelers. One might think that after not seeing each other for almost a decade we as siblings would hug when reunited. That person would be wrong in the case of Lyza and me. I simply lifted the corner of my lip in a sneer when I approached her table. She returned my expression with a similar one. She hadn’t changed in demeanor or appearance. Her hair was slicked back in a low librarian bun and she wore a starched white blouse with a blazer.
“Give me the money, Ren,” she said, extending her hand when I halted beside her table. Her British accent was gone.
I pulled out an empty chair and turned it around and straddled it. I took my time leaning on the back of the chair, not an ounce of my attention on my sister. “Aren’t you going to introduce me to your friends?” I said, my eyes locked on the girl on Lyza’s right. She was young, not yet twenty. Her long black hair contrasted with her polished pale skin. Her eyes were large like that of a doll and almost obsidian black. She wasn’t breathtaking like Dahlia. She was stunning like the sun. It hurt to look at her and yet I couldn’t look away.
“No, Ren. You weren’t invited to join us,” Lyza said, her hand still extended. “Give me my inheritance now.”
“My name’s Ren,” I said, extending my hand to the girl. “I’m nothing like my sister at all. I’m loads of fun.”
“Ren, I’m warning you,” Lyza said, but her friend ignored her.
“I’m Allouette,” the girl said, extending her hand to me. She had a high-pitched voice and a thick French accent. After taking her hand I knew three things about her: She knew I was telepathic when I touched someone. Lyza had warned her. She also knew how to guard the thoughts I had access to. And lastly, she wanted me to touch her more than just this once.
A smile peeked at the corner of my mouth. “A pleasure meeting you, Allouette,” I said her name slowly and she smiled back, no doubt enjoying the way her name sounded with my Estuary accent.
Lyza shot a fuming look at Allouette and then at me. “Ren, I don’t have the time for this. I want what belongs to me. Give me my inheritance.”
I looked at her briefly. And sharply said, “No.” Then I turned my attention to the man on the other side of my sister. “And who might you be?” I said.
The man was regarding me with an amused glare. I don’t have a homosexual bone in my body, but if I did then I would definitely jump that chap’s bones. His jet black hair was slicked back and he wore a suit that complemented his broad shoulders. He blinked at me slowly, his crystal blue eyes taking me in.
“I’m Chase,” he said in a silky voice.
“Pleased to meet you, Chase,” I said, extending my hand to him. His eyes fell on it but he didn’t take it.
“You as well,” Chase said. I knew then that Chase and Allouette were powerful Dream Travelers. What I didn’t know then, and what I learned later, was I’d just met the only Dream Traveler in the world more powerful than me. Chase knew from my sister what my powers were, but a quick perusal into the working of my mind told him that he might have found someone to finally rival his skills. I felt him there. It was a strange sensation. It’s what I’d done to people a million times, but most never felt my invasion. I sure as hell sensed Chase in my mind though. I’d never had the trespassing done on me and it felt dirty. It was the technique I used on someone to determine how their mind worked and how to control them if I wished. But Chase wasn’t planning on controlling me. He was sizing me up.
I stood from the table, flipped the chair around, and sat back down. Then I leaned across the table, daring to put inches between me and Mr. Gorgeous. “I think you should buy me a drink before you do that again. It’s only fair,” I said.
A slow smile spread on his face. “Well, I’d invite you to explore my mind too but I’m certain you won’t get through my guards,” he said in a smooth alluring voice, no accent.
I narrowed my eyes at him and quickly learned he was bloody right. I couldn’t get into his head. It wasn’t like it was with Dahlia, where my powers didn’t work on her. I suspected that my powers would actually work on Chase but there was a giant steel-like door that was blocking me.
“Ren, you may think this whole thing is entertaining, but my friends don’t like antics like yours,” Lyza said. “So save yourself the embarrassment and give me my money.”
From the way Allouette was dragging her toe up and down my leg under the table I think she was enjoying a lot of things about me. I quickly learned that I could get into her head but it didn’t appear I’d need to work very hard to get her to take off her clothes later. I wasn’t over Dahlia. I’d never be over her. But I was a man and I had a stone wall between emotions and sex.
I turned my focus on my sister. “You probably think I’m going to drag this out. That I’m going to make you sit through an hour or two of me abusing you with long diatribes because you were a bitch to our mum our whole lives,” I said, casually lacing my fingers together before resting them on the tabletop and continuing. “You might think that I’m going to berate you for not granting a dying woman her last request. And then you might think that after I’ve said my piece I’m going to hand over your inheritance. The first part is absolutely going to happen. I have a few hundred insults I want to throw at you. But guess what, Lyzie? When I’m done you’re still not getting a fucking pound.”
“What?!” She slammed her hand on the table. That’s when I spied a gaudy engag
ement ring on her bony finger. “You can’t keep my inheritance from me,” she said, her eyes bulging. Beside her Allouette and Chase were watching this with all amusement and zero sympathy for my sister. Real friends for sure.
“Thing is, Lyza, I can. I can do anything I like. Isn’t that marvelous?” I said.
Her nostrils flared. “Ren, give me my money.”
“There’s no money,” I said with a satisfied smile. “I lied. Sue me.”
“What?!” She stood from the table, leaning both hands on it and looking like she was about to reach across and strangle me.
I pulled out a silver pocketknife, extended the blade casually, and began cleaning my nails, not the least bit flustered. “Sit, Lyza, and I’ll make you a deal.” I flicked my eyes up to her. “I’m really so very fair, aren’t I?” I said.
Lyza was shaking as she stared down at me.
“I zink you should hear him out,” Allouette said, her words hard to understand covered in her thick French accent.
“Your friend is smart. You should listen to her,” I said, returning my focus to cleaning my nails. I hadn’t figured out how I was going to exact my revenge on Lyza. I wasn’t going to fulfill any deal with her but I needed to figure out the best way to hurt her one last time. Finally she sat back in her chair.