She took the folder and walked out of the room. It was her information, and she felt violated. She felt her trust was broken. As she walked out of the house towards the bigger house, she felt tears spring up unwillingly. She wiped them away angrily. What did she expect? As she stepped on the landing where she had seen the first painting, she stopped to look at it again.
She didn't know his history, and he said she should know his past. He was a rather sweet, bizarre stranger. She cringed at the word sweet. Right now, he was a creepy jerk who had stalked her. She should know his past because she had seen the face on the painting in her drawings. She had images of his past in her head. Did this happen to anyone who came in contact with him? Was it some sort of telepathy? She burst out laughing at the absurdity of the thought.
The folder was placed under the mattress along with her drawings. She would confront Geoffrey but in due time. There was so much story here she was missing, and she would get it out of him if it was the last thing she did. Honestly, there was a possibility it might be the last thing she did. What a thought? Right when she was beginning to feel safe.
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Tristan felt he was going around in circles. He walked past an abandoned chimney about six times. Every part of his body hurt. It had been a couple of hours since he fell and lost track of Geoffrey. It was getting dark, and he was no closer to getting to Geoffrey's house. He was seriously freaked out. His sweater and jacket were packed away. He was in an old t-shirt, and he was sweating uncontrollably. It felt like a summer day in Mississippi. Well, he'd never been to Mississippi. Or anywhere beyond New York, San Francisco, and Los Angeles. He couldn't figure out what would be appealing beyond those cities.
He read about summer days in the south, and it felt like this. Maybe it was like a Jurassic era. He thought about that for a little bit, letting his imagination get the better of him. Seriously freaked out, he decided to set up camp by a stream. There was enough food for several days. He would be fine. After an hour, he managed to light a fire. He was eating goat cheese on some sort of fancy organic cheese crackers.
Tristan was almost feeling relaxed when he noticed the light against the trees. The shadows. There was something wrong with the shadows and the light. He couldn’t see much of the sky. Some feeble stars shown through the trees. He stood up to see if he could find a place where he could see a bit more of the sky. Maybe it was the light from Geoffrey’s house.
Trees lined the sky. Trees filled his vision. The only way he would see beyond the trees would be going up a tree. He had not climbed a tree since he was a child, and Tristan hadn't been good at it even then. He found one with low branches. It was a tough climb, and he didn't like being high up. Tristan worried he wouldn't be able to get back down. His foot slipped off, and he scrambled to stay on the tree. One last push got him through the top foliage. He looked up.
The air was pushed out of his lungs, and he could feel his heart beating hard against his chest. It was a panic attack. His hands hurt from holding on to the tree so hard. There was no denying his eyes. In the sky were two moons. He was not on Earth.
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The stove stood before her. It was not a very old stove. The fire in one of the burners was lit. Emily was attempting to cook. Four days of bread and raw vegetables were taking its toll. She wanted more but had never been a good cook. She enjoyed the exercise. It was uniquely beautiful when there was a recipient for the food. She wasn't sure when Geoffrey would get back but made enough food for both of them if he returned. There was a good chance that he wouldn't eat the food anyway. He was peculiar. She finally decided there was only so much you could do with vegetables. She poured the mush into a plate and cut a piece of bread.
She sat down at the table, acutely aware of loneliness she hadn't felt since she left Los Angeles. He took out her book and read while she ate. The front door opened as the story in the book was getting good. She looked up resentfully. Geoffrey entered and dropped the camping gear against the wall and smiled at Emily. She could barely meet his eyes as the anger returned full force.
“There is food waiting for you on the stove if you want some,” she said.
“Thank you.”
He took a package out of his bag and handed it to her. “I brought you a present.”
She took it as he went to get food. She saw him eying the food warily. He served himself a generous portion and a bit of bread and came back to the table. He started eating without saying anything. She decided he was very kind, so her anger lessened. She took a bit of the food as well, and they ate in silence. She was curious about the package. Where could Geoffrey have gone to get a package that had been mailed? She didn't recognize the address, but she knew the sender as the giant website where one got everything.
“Why don’t you open it?” He said.
She put down her fork and pulled at the packaging. It felt a bit like Christmas morning. He took it from her, pulled out a knife, and cut the box open. Then he handed it back to her. The box was full of stuff. She pulled the first bag out of the package and saw it was a pair of pajamas. They were stylish and cute, without being either too sexy or over the top. She laughed.
“The pink nightgown didn’t really suit you,” he explained.
She continued to take out more clothes and then the holy grail of the package. A beautiful notebook with some pens, pencils and colored inks. Her eyes filled with tears.
“They are beautiful,” she said. “Thank you!”
“I want you to be happy here. I want it to be your home.”
She looked at his sincere eyes and tried to figure him out. Everything drew a blank. What the hell did he want with her?
“Thank you,” she repeated.
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From his place on the tree, Tristan regained control. It was not like him to freak. He was on a different planet. Damn. That's not something that happened every day. It was a privilege of sorts. At least, his imagination began adding numbers to his already ambitions plans. He realized that he could attempt to blackmail Geoffrey for a bit more cash. He seemed to have an endless supply of the stuff. Tristan had to make sure as much of that money came his way. It would probably be useful to know how to get back to his own world, but he would worry about that when it was time to worry. Until then, he would simply continue to put pressure on Geoffrey.
For that, he needed to find Geoffrey. And Emily. The bitch. Tristan looked at the forest landscape around him. It was beautiful. He was not the type to get sentimental and romantic about nature and was not the type to get mushy and romantic about anything. This was something else. The two moons, the crazy light, the endless forest. As he turned around, he hit gold. A couple of miles away, there was a house. It must be Geoffrey's house.
He carefully climbed down, regretfully looking at his torn clothing. There went hundreds if not thousands of dollars in damaged clothes. If he was successful, Tom's killer would be dead, and he would be an even wealthier man. He packed up his things and covered the fire with dirt. Then he walked towards where he had seen the light. It was not too difficult. After a few complicated turns around trees, he found a trail. He followed it through the forest.
The house appeared as if by magic as he crossed a small stream. It looked out of a bad romance novel and felt odd for such a weirdo like Geoffrey. There were several structures. A tiny little cottage sat at the bottom of the hill. The larger house at the top of the hill was surrounded by fields and even had a white picket fence. He could see the top of a barn in the distance. There was light coming from the windows of the main house. The firelight was glowing from a fireplace.
He followed the trail up to the house. He crouched down so they wouldn't see him and peeked in the window. Emily was sitting on the couch drawing, and Geoffrey was at his desk writing. It was a perfect domestic scene. Tristan felt the rage. She had no right to be happy and to live in this place as if she was innocent. He took a de
ep breath and continued past the house towards the barn. He needed to find a place to hide.
He opened the barn carefully. The door still made a rather impressive creak as he pushed on it. The barn was filled with hand-operated farming tools. Nothing required electricity or gasoline. The structure was not created for animals. There were no pigs, no cows, no sheep. He saw some stairs leading to a loft and climbed them. He figured he could probably stay here. The stuff in that part of the barn looked like it hadn't been used in a very long time. There was a strange vibration to the floor when he sat down on it. He looked around to see if he could spot anything mechanical or electrical. He walked around and didn't find anything. If there was something in the barn, he wasn't going to worry about it. Tristan took out his sleeping bag and made himself comfortable.
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Surprisingly, Emily was happy. She was not used to being happy and was almost a bit uncomfortable. The fire was perfect. Geoffrey was quietly writing away. It was comforting to be in his company. She was drawing. It was a little uncomfortable that most drawings were versions of Geoffrey. Thankfully, he was busy and would probably never see her sketches. She had no idea that Tristan was close. Emily had not forgiven Geoffrey for his stalking, but she had craved moments like this so desperately that for now, she didn't want to change the beautiful status quo.
She still desperately wanted to know why he had tracked her down. She wanted to know why he was following women who killed. That was easier to understand. Women with nothing to lose were more likely to want to live with him in this remote place. Obviously, he needed company. He didn't want to be alone. It felt kind of dreadful to be Geoffrey. Emily couldn't imagine the loss he experienced. Besides, none of those women would pose a threat. They couldn't kill him. They were safe, and he was safe. It worked like the perfect arrangement.
He was oddly sweet. It had been thoughtful for him to get Emily's all the stuff he did. She hadn't owned new clothes in years. Emily still couldn't really talk about Tom, and she really didn't feel like going over the subject with Geoffrey. Maybe she could live with this rather odd man. Emily could learn to love him more profoundly. She knew she was already a little in love with him but could be in a relationship. She looked down at her drawing. Geoffrey, with his devilish smile. She sighed.
He looked up and smiled with a look that made her wonder if he could read minds. She turned to face her paper. As she took up her pencil again, there was a screech. She looked towards Geoffrey instinctively. He was on his feet, so she closed her drawing notebook.
“Are there wild animals here?” She asked.
“There are, but I have made sure none can get close to the farm. You don’t really want to meet any of our local inhabitants.” He walked towards the door.
She started to follow, but he stopped her. “I’ll go look.”
“Be careful!” She called out.
He laughed, “I don’t break.”
She looked out the window and followed his progress towards the barn. She saw him open the barn door and go inside, and then he came back out a few moments later and returned to the house.
“What was it?” She asked.
“Nothing,” he answered with a pensive look.
She looked at him, waiting for a better explanation. It took him a bit to notice that she actually did want an answer. He looked surprised.
"There must have been an animal that got in, but by the time I got there, it was gone."
She knew he was lying. Emily wasn't sure why it was so evident to her that he was lying. She wondered if she should say anything, but chose against it.
"Maybe you should stay close to the house or at least where I can see you until I have found the critter that got into the barn," Geoffrey added.
She watched him silently. He was worried, and it made her worry. He went towards the desk and put away the journal. She grabbed her stuff and headed up to her room. As she closed the door, he stepped back out. She walked to the window. She saw him look up at her, so she stepped away from the window. She looked again after a few moments. He headed down towards his cabin, so she closed the curtain and got into bed. If it had been that dangerous, he would not have left her alone.
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Tristan saw the door open. He held his breath, unsure of what would happen next. When he finally heard the click of the gate fall into place, he felt he could breathe again. It must have been Geoffrey worried about the sound. Thankfully, he didn’t go up to the loft to check. Tristan knew he had to figure out how to get out of the barn before anyone woke up the next morning. If not, it would mean trouble. He needed to stay out of their way until he found the right time to both get money out of Geoffrey and get rid of Emily.
He was almost asleep when he heard the screaming. It jolted him into instant alertness, so he climbed down the stairs and followed the sound. The path was visible with the moonlight leading to the cabin at the bottom of the hill. The screams didn’t sound like Emily. He didn’t want Geoffrey to beat him to his aim. He would find a way to get to her himself. Tristan saw lights on in the cabin. As he reached the window, he saw Geoffrey, a bloody mess, beating the shit out of himself. It was such a shock that Tristan stayed staring for longer than he should have. He couldn’t stop staring at the gore. It was like a horror film with blood splattered the windows.
If Geoffrey was out of commission, then Emily would be vulnerable. There was no way he could be okay after this. Tristan wondered if Geoffrey was taking some sort of drugs. It was just sick. He walked away, feeling almost exhilarated by the violence. He looked up at the big house and walked inside. The stairs were old. He was sure that they would make noise if he attempted to go up to them. He had to try.
Tristan took a step, and the noise felt deafening. No one stirred. He continued up the stairs very softly tiptoeing past each step. At the top were several closed doors. He figured one would lead to the master bedroom. If Geoffrey was keeping her anywhere, it would be there. He imagined that after weeks, they would at least be lovers. He tried one door, but it was locked.
He headed to the opposite side of the hallway and opened the door. Emily was asleep in the moonlight. The double shadows distorting her face, making it appear almost grotesque. He walked up to her and looked more closely at her face. She seemed so normal. Pretty, but not stunning. There was nothing magnificent about her. Why would Tom had fallen for someone like that? Asleep, she almost looked innocent. The bitch.
He pictured his hands around her perfect throat. He thought about the pain he could cause her. Emily would struggle for breath. She moved in her sleep, and he waited to see if she would wake. She was vulnerable now. Everything Tristan wanted to do was easy now. Of course, he could never leave the planet. Geoffrey would kill him. She pushed the blankets off of her legs and turned on her stomach. He suddenly could see a great deal more of her. He sat in an armchair and studied her legs. He enjoyed the violation of the moment. Tom would have killed him. Even if she hadn’t been his girlfriend, he would have killed him.
Tristan had attempted to share with Tom his first seduction, as Tristan referred to it. He liked control and enjoyed the struggle. Tom was repulsed. He had looked at Tristan with such shock and revulsion that Tristan had convinced Tom it was a lie. At that moment, Tristan had gone a very separate way from his brother. Nothing was shared between them. Tristan didn’t think that Tom really believed him when he backtracked the story. Tom was careful to keep the women he dated away from Tristan. It didn’t matter in the end.
Tristan sorted out certain things on his own. He knew how to cause pain, and he enjoyed the pain. He knew how to make the stories disappear, as well. It was an art. He wondered at times if he was sick or it was in his nature. The rush he felt was the truth of his masculinity. Men had been acting like this from the beginning of time. He was no different. The women were all sluts anyway. They had put out and had gotten what they deserved. He realized he was getting turned on.
Chapter 9
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The next morning, Emily felt odd in her room. It was as if there was a dark presence in it. She looked around, expecting to find a monster in a corner. The room was empty. She looked at the chair next to her bed. One of the pillows had fallen to the floor. When she went to sleep, it hadn't been on the floor. One of the new shirts was also on the ground. She dressed in her new clothes quickly and headed downstairs. It must have been Geoffrey. She wasn't sure if she should say anything. It was creepy if he was watching over her. Nightmare also filled her sleep. Maybe he had returned from the cabin and seen her thrashing around with bad dreams.
Dance of Life: The Belief Chronicles: Book One (Chronicles of a Planet's End) Page 8