Waltzing Matilda (Emma Frost Book 11)

by Willow Rose

  I sighed as I watched him drive away. I was so tired of living like this. Why couldn't we just move in together? Then we would at least see each other every day when we woke up and went to bed. The way it was now, we had to schedule seeing each other, and that was hard with his line of work. Sometimes, he would stop by for lunch during his shift, but that was just for half an hour. I missed him so much when we weren't together.

  I thought about the Dragstedts and that woman who was Asgar's sister. Maya had told me in the car that Asgar hadn't even known he had a sister. What kind of people would shut out their own daughter out and keep a boy from knowing his sister? It made no sense to me.

  "So, you and Samuel, huh?" I tried, while we walked up the steps to the house. I had been trying to get courage enough to ask her about him all the way back but hadn’t gotten it until now. I wanted to ask, but at the same time, I knew Maya was very private about her life and I didn't want to pry. Well…that's not entirely true. I wanted to pry, of course, I did. I just didn't want her to be angry with me for doing so.

  She gave me a look. "We're just friends," she said, yet blushing lightly. "That's all."

  "Really?" I asked, thinking about the ladder still leaning up against the side of the house.

  She turned around and looked straight into my eyes. "Really."

  I sensed I needed to back off, so, of course, I didn't.

  "Just be safe, okay?" I mumbled.

  "MOM!"

  Maya stared at me, eyes wide and arms held out in front of her. I think she might have seriously thought about killing me in that instant. I could be wrong, but it was that kind of look she gave me. "That's the most cringy thing you have ever said to me, ugh."

  I smiled. "Maya, you'll be turning eighteen soon. I can't keep an eye on you forever. We never talked about these things and I…"

  She pointed at me, her finger vibrating with anger. "I am not doing this with you. I am not."

  "Okay, okay," I said, resigned. "I just know that it happened to me at your age. Just sayin'."

  "Argh! Mom, you're so embarrassing. Are you even listening to yourself? Ugh. I can't deal with you right now," she said, then stormed up to the door and ran inside.

  I walked in after her, but she was already gone, probably already in her room, texting all her friends about how embarrassing her mother was. I took off my coat and boots, then walked into the living room where my parents were sitting, my mom in my dad's lap, making out.

  I cringed. "Yak," I mumbled and left them, then went into the kitchen to get a cup of coffee.

  In there, I found Victor and Skye. They were sitting at the table in the middle of what seemed to be a deep conversation that apparently required no spoken words. In front of Victor's face floated a spoon.

  "What are you doing?" I almost screamed.

  The spoon fell to the table. Victor looked at me. He smiled. "She taught me. Skye taught me how to do that."

  I felt a twitch in my right eye as I stared at my son, who once again lifted the spoon into the air, apparently by using nothing but the power of his mind.

  "This is a madhouse," I mumbled under my breath. "Coffee. I need coffee. I need coffee now."

  Chapter 36

  Giovanni didn't want to be a waiter. Giovanni was a musician. He played the guitar and sang. It was all he wanted to do with his life, and so many times he had tried to explain it to his dad. But his dad wouldn't hear of it. Giovanni was supposed to take over the restaurant after his dad, so he could retire in a few years. That was the plan, and there was nothing he could say to change it.

  The family had moved to Denmark and Fanoe Island back in the seventies and his dad had at first tried his luck as a musician himself, but since it didn't bring money enough to support his family, he got the idea to open up an Italian restaurant, the first on the island. And what a success it turned out to be.

  At first, the islanders were quite reluctant to try something new, but once they did, they couldn't get enough of Alessandro's pasta dishes. Even though he tried to explain to the Danes that pasta was a first course, a primo piatto, they wouldn't listen and kept ordering it as an entree, as their only meal, and soon, he changed his menu to please the customers. Today, he was known widely for his pasta dishes and people would come to the island just to taste his delicacies.

  Giovanni knew his dad was proud of his restaurant and so was he, as his son. But he wasn't very interested in taking over the restaurant one day and especially not in working there for his dad as a waiter. Giovanni believed he was wasting his time, time he should be spending writing songs and creating music. He should be playing in front of a crowd in clubs and bars, building an audience. Just playing on street corners—even if it was quite difficult in a cold country like Denmark—would be better than this.

  Giovanni sighed and took the order from a couple who had just arrived at the restaurant. He smiled and made sure they were happy and well taken care of. Giovanni's dad wanted him to know the business from the inside, that was why he had hired him as first a busboy, then a waiter. He had to work his way up like the rest of them. Now, Giovanni couldn't cook. So, the kitchen wasn't an option, but his dad didn't cook anymore either. Those days were over. Now, he had cooks working for him, using his traditional Italian recipes that he brought with him from his grandmother, who got them from her grandmother.

  As soon as Alessandro retired, Giovanni would be the sole owner of those recipes and responsible for passing on the family traditions.

  But Giovanni hated pasta, he hated marinara sauce and the smell of the kitchen. He loathed having to deal with customers more than anything. It simply wasn't him.

  Giovanni walked to the back and gave them the order in the kitchen, then spotted his guitar. It was leaning up against the wall, still in its bag. He looked at his watch. It was almost time for his break.

  He grabbed the guitar and sneaked outside to the back, behind the restaurant, and sat with his back leaned up against the dumpster, then strummed his guitar, closing his eyes and imagining standing on a stage in front of thousands of people playing them his own songs. He parted his lips and started to sing, to let out the words of his favorite song that he wrote to the love of his life. Her name was Lotte and they met in high school. It was a long time ago now, at least that was how it felt, but he still remembered her smell, the sound of her voice, and her laughter.

  Giovanni closed his eyes and sang for her once again, listening to the sound of his own voice bouncing off the walls of the surrounding buildings. It sounded good and made him feel so good about himself. He sighed and opened his eyes when he heard something. It sounded like low, weak knocking. Giovanni turned his head and looked at the dumpster behind him, then shook his head.

  No, it couldn't have come from there. It was impossible.

  He sat back down, closed his eyes, and was about to sing more when he heard it again, this time louder. Giovanni shrieked.

  "W-who’s there?"

  Another knock. This time, there was no doubt in Giovanni's mind where it came from.

  Heart in his throat, Giovanni crawled up into the dumpster and started to dig, throwing bags of leftover food into the street. When he stopped and saw what had made the sound, he realized he would never be able to sing again.

  Chapter 37

  "He did what? You're kidding me, right?"

  Sophia stared at me in disbelief. I shook my head. I was cleaning up after dinner that I had made for the entire family. Sophia came over for a glass of wine while her mother hung out with her kids.

  "I’m afraid not. The kid did it and it doesn't end there. At dinner, he kept moving his utensils that same way, and I had to stop him so my mom and dad wouldn't see it. I don't want them to think he's weirder than they already do. Besides, I don't know how to deal with it right now with everything else that is going on."

  "I…I’ve heard about people who could do stuff like that," she said. "I've read about it, but…wow. I wasn't sure I actually believed it was possible before.
I think I need to see it with my own eyes."

  "I am not getting my son to show you," I said and wiped the last pot dry and put it away. "See. That's exactly what I’m afraid of. That he'll end up like some circus freak. I ain't doing it."

  Sophia nodded. "All right, all right, calm down. I was just curious. I think you're right about being careful about this. Who knows what he might be used for if he ends up in the wrong hands?"

  I closed the cabinet. "The thing is, I don't know how to help him control it. I don't want him to be embarrassed about it; I want him to use it, to master it. I think it is awesome what he can do, I truly do, but I need him to understand that he needs to keep it to himself. I don't know how to make him understand that."

  Sophia nodded, then sipped her wine. "Wow. It's never boring around here, is it?"

  "I’m telling you," I said with a sigh. "It's a madhouse lately. Between Victor and his creepy new friend and Maya having boys up in her room, I am about to lose it completely."

  "Maya has boys in her room?"

  "Well…boy. You know Samuel, right?"

  "Sure do. Handsome devil and sweet too. She could do a lot worse than him, I think."

  "Me too. I just don't know how to talk to her about it. She gets all angry and starts to yell and says I am cringy and stuff like that."

  "I'll have a chat with her for you if you like."

  "You'd do that?"

  "Of course."

  "I just need to make sure that she is staying…safe."

  Sophia winked. "I am the woman for that. If anyone can scare her away from having sex—or at least unprotected sex—it’s the woman with six kids. If the talk won't work, then I'll let her babysit all of them at once. She'll never even think about having sex again. Ever."

  I laughed and sat down with my glass in hand. I lifted it and clanged it against hers.

  "To no sex."

  "To no sex."

  I chuckled after drinking, then looked at my phone. It was vibrating on the counter. I grabbed it. It was Morten.

  "I am sorry. I can't make it tonight. Someone just found a body in a dumpster downtown."

  I exhaled. "Is it Susan Ludvigsen? Please, tell me it isn't her?"

  "We don't know yet. I’m on my way there now. Apparently, she is still alive, the paramedics said, but only barely holding on."

  "Wow. Guess I'll hope to see you tomorrow then?" I said.

  "Let's try for that. I have to go, we're there now."

  "Bye."

  I hung up and lifted my glass again with a sigh.

  "Guess the no sex part goes for me as well."

  Chapter 38

  Maya was sitting at the computer when she heard the rubble hit her window. She got up and opened it, then peeked down. There he was, looking more handsome than ever.

  He crawled up the ladder and Maya just prayed her mother wouldn't hear him or accidentally see him. After the little “chat” they almost had today outside the house, she was terrified that her mom would think she was sneaking him in to have sex. It was the last thing on Maya's mind. She had kissed him twice and that was as far as she dared to go.

  "Hi," he said as he peeked inside. He smiled, his pearly white teeth shining almost unnaturally in the darkness.

  "Come on in," she said, rushing him. "Get inside before we both freeze to death."

  She closed the window, then turned. They suddenly stood face to face. She let out a small gasp. He grabbed her face between his hands, then kissed her. Maya let him, feeling the warmth of the kiss spread throughout her body. She closed her eyes and enjoyed the kiss.

  When she opened them, she looked into his eyes, feeling herself getting totally sucked into them. Then she pulled away, shyly.

  "I take it that wasn't why you asked me to come?" he asked.

  Maya shook her head. "But it was nice," she said, blushing.

  He smirked. "I kind of liked it too."

  She sighed, then shook her head. "I texted for you to come because I found something," she said, getting back on track, shaking the tingling feeling in her stomach that the kiss had left her with.

  Samuel lit up. "You did?"

  Maya nodded, biting her lip. She went to the laptop and turned the screen, so he could better see.

  "I went through some of his files and found this."

  Samuel approached the screen and looked at it. Maya felt her heart race when looking at him, but tried to push it back in her mind. She forced herself to not think about him in that way, to prevent herself from blushing constantly when he looked at her. She didn't want to come off as desperate or too eager.

  "What the heck…?

  "I know," she said.

  "I…I don't believe this? Is this really true?"

  She shrugged. "Well, it's there. In writing."

  Samuel ran a hand through his thick blond hair "Wow. I am shocked," he said, still looking at the screen.

  "Guess I was wrong when I said the sister was this family's best-kept secret," she said.

  "You sure were," Samuel said and sat down. He scrolled down then back up again and kept reading the same line in the document. He turned his head and looked at Maya, his eyes shocked.

  "This is."

  "And it provides a motive," Maya said.

  Chapter 39

  It was nighttime when she woke up. Susan had a terrible headache and felt so weak she could hardly sit up. The room was spinning, the clocks ticking loudly, making her headache even worse.

  But it wasn't midnight yet.

  "I can still make it out," she mumbled, her tongue so dry, it stuck to the roof of her mouth. "Before he gets here."

  Susan got up on her knees, reached out her hand, and grabbed the bed, then pulled herself up using all her strength. She realized she was stronger now than she had been earlier. That was probably why he always came at this time of night because this was when she had the most blood in her.

  Or maybe he's a vampire who only wakes up at midnight. To feast on your blood.

  She shivered at the thought, then bent forward to try and make the room stop spinning. It helped. She had seen him drink her blood. After tapping it into small bags, he would attach the tube from the bags to the ones sticking out of his mask and suck it into his mouth, like he was drinking from a darn straw. She had heard him slurp and swallow loudly as he gulped it down. It had freaked her out completely.

  "I gotta get out of here," she mumbled and stood up straight, then waited a few seconds to get the room to stop spinning. "Before he comes."

  She fought to keep standing, then took one step toward the door, then another, and soon she was walking, moving toward it. Panting, she grabbed the handle and leaned on the door for a few seconds to make sure she wouldn't faint again. This was her last chance to ever get out of here alive.

  Susan grabbed the handle and moved it down, then opened the door and revealed a hallway. It had marble floors and antiques everywhere. Mostly clocks. A large grandfather clock reached almost to the ceiling, a carriage clock with a handle on top was on a tabletop. There was an octagonal schoolhouse clock in a pendulum box mounted on the wall, a mantel clock in a drum-shaped case, a dresser with a desk clock and clocks on the walls, hundreds of radio-controlled clocks, showing the time all over the world.

  Susan felt sick when staring at the many clocks and especially when listening to them as she hurried down the hallway, feeling like the clocks were rotating and almost whirling around her, constantly reminding her that she had to hurry, hurry, hurry.

  She spotted what looked like a front door at the end of the hallway, then hurried towards it the best she could without fainting. She fought to push through the overwhelming sensation, the tickling and prickling in her fingertips and her arms from the lack of blood in those areas, the dizziness and the lack of strength. Susan almost cried with determination, seeing the door come closer and closer. The big hand-carved wooden door approached slowly while the sound of the ticking clocks buzzed in her ears.

  She had almost made i
t there and believed she could feel the coldness of the handle in her hand when she heard a sound that made her stop instantly.

  The sound of someone moaning.

  Susan tried to block out the sound, but she couldn't. Just as she was about to grab the door handle, she turned instead and went to another door, then opened it, pushing it open with the last of her strength.

  What she saw in there instantly made fall to her knees and cry.

  Chapter 40

  My sleep was uneasy. Maybe it was the wine, maybe the chocolate I ate just before bedtime, I don't know. But I couldn't find rest. Maybe it was because I couldn't stop thinking about what Morten had told me, that they had found someone in a dumpster downtown. He had called before I went to bed and told me the guy was barely alive and that he was almost empty of blood. They had taken him to the hospital on the mainland, transporting him on the ferry, and he was now fighting for his life. Morten and his team had asked the nurses to make sure to notify him when he woke up—if he woke up—and then they had come back to start the search for Susan Ludvigsen all over again. They were realizing that it was more vital than ever that they find her, and they feared the worst.

  The boy they had found was also a senior at the high school, or he used to be, but was expelled about a month ago and had run away from home because he was afraid of what his parents would do when they found out he was expelled from school. Everyone, including his parents, thought he had left the island like most kids who ran away did.

  That was probably what was keeping me up all night. Was someone targeting the teenagers at the high school for some reason? Was some sicko kidnapping the high school kids and emptying them of their blood?

  Why?

  The good part was that Vincent, the boy found in the dumpster, was still alive and maybe he would be able to tell us more, when or if he woke up. Morten had told me he thought the killer probably believed Vincent was dead and tried to get rid of him, not knowing he was still alive, clinging to life.