by S D Hegyes
Somehow, she got the impression he wasn’t lying. Again, she attributed it to her mother’s ability to see when someone lied to her.
“So,” she teased, “a young woman who sees dead people doesn’t bother you, does it?”
Abaddon grinned at her, his eyes sparkling. “Hardly. Call it refreshing in its own way.”
“Well, I’m glad I can amuse you.”
“Sorsha, it’s not amusing. It’s nice to find someone who can relate. Know what I mean?”
She opened her mouth to argue with him, but then she thought about what he said. “Yes, I guess it is.” She leaned her head back against the wall and said, “My own parents think I’m a freak. They'll do anything to keep people outside Shaded Glade from finding out their daughter’s weird. It’s one of the reasons my father moved us there. If he’d had control over it, I doubt anyone in Shaded Glade would know about my powers.”
“You keep mentioning Shaded Glade. What is that?”
She jerked her thumb behind her. “It’s a community over the hills back that direction. She sighed and rolled her eyes. “It might as well be a cult. There’s so many rules to follow, and I already mentioned how I’m my father’s property until I’m married. He’s got me set with the preacher’s son.” She wrinkled her nose. “I’ll bet he paid the preacher to take me off his hands.”
“Can he do that?”
She shrugged. “If he calls the payment a dowry, I’m pretty certain he can. I have no idea. I’ve never been married. All I know is that no one in Shaded Glade, at least no one in their right mind, would marry me without being paid to do so. I know I’m a freak.” She gave him a smile, but it felt weak and forced. She hadn’t admitted it aloud, but the constant rejection based on her having powers always hurt more than she admitted.
He studied her face. “You’re like me in a way?”
“I guess?” She turned away from his gaze, looking at her fingers as she picked at the dirt under her nails. “It’s not a big deal. I’m used to it.”
“I live with three cousins right now, and I’m the one still having nightmares about the situation we were in prior.” He glanced at her. “It wasn’t a good one, mind you.”
“I’m sorry.” She didn’t want to pry, didn’t want to seem too nosy, but that didn’t mean she wasn’t curious. “It must be tough.”
He copied the shoulder shrug she’d made earlier. “It has its moments. Sometimes, it’s nice. I think I’m doing much better with them than I’d be doing on my own, if I’m honest.”
“Yeah? Well, that’s a good thing then, isn’t it?”
He nodded. “I’d like to think so.”
She leaned back, a smile touching her lips. “Sometimes, having someone to relate to you, even in the smallest of ways, is the best thing in the world.” She was pretty certain that’s what drew her to Abaddon. “Thank you, by the way.”
He jolted, as if her words were a buzzer. “What for?”
“Listening. Explaining. I’ve been trying to figure out what I did to Private Thaddeus, and your explanation is the only one I’ve got that makes any sense at all.” She turned to him. “I guess you’re the first person I can talk to about this kind of stuff, you know?” She hoped he understood what she was saying.
Abaddon smiled at her. “I get it.”
Sorsha nodded. “I guess if anyone would, it’d be you.” She pushed herself off the monument wall and strode forward.
“Are you cold?”
“No. I doubt I would be unless it snowed. I have a higher body temperature than most people.”
“Same,” he responded, as if reading her thoughts. “I run hot. See?” He reached over and took her hand in his. She stopped breathing as his fingers brushed over her and settled. “Well, maybe not tonight,” he said with a frown. He glanced up at her. “Tonight, I seem to be running colder than normal.”
He smiled at her, and she felt her heart thump hard in her chest. She swallowed, unsure how to respond. He didn’t release her hand either. It wasn’t warm, but it wasn’t cold, and he continued to hold her hand and rub circles in the center of her palm.
She looked down at their hands, her face growing warm. “Umm. . .”
He followed her gaze and let go of her hand, shoving his own in his pockets. He cleared his throat. “What are you going to do about your marriage?”
Sorsha grinned. “Oh, I’m not getting married.”
10
Confusion, anger, worry, and so many other emotions Sorsha couldn’t name warred on the man’s face.
Abaddon shook his head. “You said you were getting married. Now you’re not.”
She nodded, a sly grin on her face. “I did. I said my father was marrying me off.”
“I don’t understand. How are you not getting married?”
She winked at him. “I don’t plan on being here much longer. I plan on being gone. Somewhere far away, hopefully.”
The corner of his mouth twitched. “Running away, are we?”
She tipped her head from side-to-side, considering. “I want to join the military. Basic will get me far from here, and I don’t think I’ll return anytime soon.”
“Is it really that bad here?”
The mischief left her eyes and her frown deepened. “It’s a prison. I’ve spent the last eight years listening to a man tell me what I can and can’t do with my life. I don’t mean the basic stuff that any kid hears about from a parent, but the kind that says how I should live my life as an adult. I’ve never had a job before, know that?”
He shook his head, but said nothing. She could feel herself starting to rant, but now that she’d started, she couldn’t bring herself to stop.
“Why? Because women belong in the home. My mom was forced to quit her job when we moved here. Obviously because of the move, but no. She wasn’t allowed to find a new job once we settled in. For the past eight years, she’s cooked and cleaned our house, but she’s never been allowed to work. My father? He works, and all his funds go to Shaded Glade, which then decided how much to pay everyone.”
She shook her head even as she began to pace the diameter of the circle they were in. “It’s great,” she said sarcastically. “There’s no bills and everything’s charged from a single account, but you give up a lot just to have that as well. As soon as a boy turns sixteen, he’s told where he’ll work and what’s expected of him in the community, even after he’s married. The women? They never go to school. If I’d been born here, I’d be completely homeschooled.”
Sorsha rounded back toward him, holding up her hands in defense. “Not that there’s anything wrong with homeschooling. But there’s homeschooling and there’s the kind of homeschooling I’ve received since getting here.” She put her hands back on her hips and continued pacing.
“Everything ties back to the Bible, and there’s some things not taught at all. I’ve been lucky my parents don’t follow the doctrine completely. I learned about evolution from my mom, which is blasphemy in Shaded Glade. Nothing but creationism is taught here.”
Her teeth ground together and she started spitting each word as if the next truly horrified her.
“And once married, a woman is expected to do nothing but spit out babies for the community and keep the house for her family.”
She lashed out in anger, her hands dropping from her hips as she thrust her left wrist out, the fingers curled into a fist. He moved, too quick for her to see, and put his hand before hers. Her knuckles slammed into his palm rather than the monument wall.
Sorsha froze and blinked in confusion. She lowered her arm and straightened, staring at him.
He dropped his hand, shaking it a little, and grunted in satisfaction. There wasn’t any damage to the monument.
“Did I hurt you?” She reached for him, and he let her take his hand in hers. He loved the feel of her skin against his. “I wasn’t trying to. I just get so angry thinking about all this.”
“It’s nothing.”
She glanced up at him, but the
n she nodded and let go of his hand, stepping back.
“You have a mean left hook, all things considered. You’re left-handed?”
She nodded. “And you’re right-handed.”
He shook his head. “I’m ambidextrous.”
That made sense. “That explains a few things. You’re stronger than you look, by the way.” She grinned at him. “You’re pretty spry for an old man.”
“Old man? Whatever gave you the idea that I’m an old man?”
She laughed, throwing her head back with the sound and exposing her throat. “It’s a joke. Don’t take things so serious all the time, Abaddon.” She winked at him and gave his shoulder a playful shove. “Live a little.” She paused, considering. “Ever been to the fair here? Well, not here. In Hardin?”
He shook his head.
“Then we’ll go. It comes to town this week. How does Friday sound? They should be set up by Thursday and open by Friday.” It was a week away.
“Still going to be in town?” The corner of his mouth twitched with amusement.
She copied his near-grin. “Yes, I’ll still be in town. I’ve still got a handful of things I need to do before I can leave.”
His eyes softened and he looked down and away from her.
Sorsha bent at the waist and twisted so that she looked up at his face. “Hey. You okay?”
“I’m fine.” He gave her a false smile. “Why do you ask?”
“You obviously look down, and I don’t mean the direction.” She straightened and waved her hand dismissively. “You know what I mean. You looked upset about something.”
“Why are you waiting to leave?”
She laughed at him. His change in subject wasn’t subtle. If he didn’t want to talk about it, he could have said so. Plus, his question was absurd after everything she’d told him.
“Do you think they’ll let me leave? Do you think they’ll let me walk out?” She shook her head before she used one hand and gestured at herself. “What do you see when you look at me?”
He opened his mouth and shut it, looking over her. “I see a young woman.”
She snapped her fingers and pointed at him. “Yes, but more important. I’m a broodmare. I can produce children to keep the community going. Let’s face it, they don’t recruit much from the outside world. My father was an exception because he sought them out, not vice versa. If I speak clan-talk to you, do you feel compelled to join?”
“Hell, no.”
“Yeah. Exactly. Most people have that kind of reaction to the idea of Shaded Glade. I’ve lived there for the past eight years and I have that kind of reaction. It makes me want to puke.” She sneered. “There’s nothing to like about Shaded Glade, except maybe it’s safe.”
He chuckled and brushed her hair over her shoulder. “You act like you hate the place.”
“What ever gave you that impression?” Her voice was filled with indignation, and she pressed a hand to emphasize her impression.
It only made him grin wider. “So we’re going to the fair Friday?”
She nodded. “We’re going to the fair Friday.”
There was no doubt in Sorsha’s mind: Abaddon was trouble with a capital T. He gave off an air of violence that drew her to him. She couldn’t explain it if she tried. All she knew about him was his name and that they were similar, if not the same. She hadn’t decided yet.
The main factor that was a point in his favor? He wasn’t from Shaded Glade, which made him an upgrade from any of the other men she currently knew in any way she looked at it. Because of that, she decided it didn’t matter how dangerous he was.
He could be an ax murderer, and she’d still find him the most interesting person in the world. She wanted to know everything about him.
His English was good, but there was more than a hint of an accent she couldn’t place, and she was determined to figure it out. She wanted to know where all he’d been in his life, and how.
Abaddon didn’t look that old, but then again, maybe he was older than he looked. Probably. Who was she to judge?
Sorsha walked through her front door with a smile on her face. She was going to have fun the rest of the week getting to know Abaddon, and she looked forward to it.
“And where have you been?”
The booming voice made Sorsha jump, and she clutched at her chest in shock even as her eyes found her father.
The man sat in his wheelchair and standing behind him was Preston. Of course he was still over.
She narrowed her eyes at both men. “Out.”
Her father’s jaw tightened as he clenched his teeth and ground them together. They had a guest, so of course her father controlled his temper. He turned back to Preston who also glared at Sorsha.
“You have your work cut out for you, boy.” Her father gestured to her. “You see what I’ve put up with since I’ve moved here?”
“I see, sir.” Preston’s words were measured. No surprise. He knew this game better than Sorsha cared to.
She rolled her eyes. “I don’t belong to either one of you.”
“Yes, you do, young lady. You belong to me until you’ve married Preston, and then you’ll belong to him. The paperwork’s already in the processes. Now it’s just a matter of setting the date and getting everything done.”
Her father rolled his chair over to her, stopping just before her. “So, I’ll ask again, where have you been?”
“Out.”
“Out?” Her father turned red, ready to explode, at her words. “You were supposed to be at dinner to discuss your wedding.”
“Funny. I didn’t think I got a say in that. You two seem to have that all wrapped up.” Sorsha put her hands on her hips. “I mean, that’s what you two were discussing when I excused myself from dinner and left in the first place.”
“You’re supposed to be at dinner every night. This isn’t anything new, Sorsha.”
She shrugged one shoulder and bent to untie her shoes. “First time I’m hearing this.”
“You lady, I will not take your sass tonight—especially in front of a guest.”
She snorted, looking up at him without straightening. “Sass, father? That’s what you attribute my attitude toward? Not the primitive behavior you and everyone else in this God-forsaken community show?”
“You will not take the Lord’s name in vain,” her father said, wagging a finger at her.
Sorsha shook her head and sneered at him. He was one to talk. He did it on a constant basis. The difference? He had a guest: Preston.
“You should listen to your father, Sorsha. It’s what good daughters do.” If Preston thought he was helping, he was only adding fuel to the fire.
“You should shut up and mind your own business,” she responded without missing a beat. She glanced up at him and saw his eyes bulge at her words. His mouth dropped open as well, and he glanced at her father as if the man might save him from her.
A crack sounded through the air as her father slapped her across the cheek and knocked her to the floor. “You will not talk to our guest that way.”
Sorsha wiped a trickle of blood from her split lip and looked at it before she raised her eyes to her father. She reached out, a bloody grin on her face, and wiped her thumb on his pants’ leg, watching the red stain his khakis.
Her father watched with a mixture of horror, shock and anger. For once, his mouth opened and he said nothing.
She rose to her feet and studied the man who served as her father. He was a broken, bitter man in a wheelchair who took his frustration at his injustices out on those around him.
Still, it wasn’t an excuse for his behavior toward her. She didn’t know a lot about the world, but she knew enough to know his treatment of her wasn’t normal.
Before anyone could react, Sorsha spat at her father, spraying him with a mixture of blood and spittle. The squawk that came out of his mouth in response more than made up for her lack of vocal comebacks.
“I can’t wait to get out of this house,” she growle
d as she wiped her mouth clear again. Then she stomped past her father and Preston to the one place their presence hadn’t infiltrated yet. It would stay that way too, as long as she had anything to say about it.
11
The alarm blared so loud, Sorsha thought it was the fire alarm going off in her ear. She opened bleary eyes and saw the clock’s red numbers flashing at her.
It was four in the morning, earlier than she’d ever woken before, but she had a mission, one that she needed to get up early to do.
She slammed her hand down on top of the alarm clock, hoping she hit the button to shut it off. When it stopped screaming, she nodded her satisfaction.
With a grunt, she rose off her stomach, using her elbows to brace herself up. She looked outside her window and saw the sun rising. Just what she needed.
Her father would be getting up in another hour to head to work, and she needed to be up and out the door before her parents saw her. The last thing she needed was one of them to see her escape toward town.
She reached behind her, yanked off the blanket tangled around her, and rolled out of bed. As she put her feet on the floor, she shivered from the cold. Then she stood and tiptoed to her closet where she found a pair of jeans.
Next was a clean bra, a shirt and a sweater. She’d pull on her jacket once she got ready to walk out the door. Habit made her shove her wallet in her pocket, even though it was pretty close to empty. She grabbed a pair of socks and a hat and walked out the room toward the front door.
There was no one in the living room. Her mother would get up when her father did, she knew, but sometimes the woman woke early to get a head start on breakfast. Sorsha would need to move fast if she wanted to beat her mother.
Sorsha snuck into the kitchen and grabbed an apple. She bit into it while she slapped together a turkey sandwich. Then she filled a couple of water bottles, and shoved everything into a purse she’d pilfered from her closet. It barely fit inside, but she made it work.
