She remembers. She remembers what he did.
“Your father has served his sentence. He can’t undo what he’s done but the courts are willing to work with him in exchange for his cooperation. He didn’t maliciously hurt anyone, Emma. He’s a good man. He wants to pay back the money he took from those people. He wants to make it right.”
She’s talking about the securities fraud.
Frightened whimpers fill my head. Icy water pours into the moat, drowning the feeble pathetic worms wriggling across the dry cracked ground.
Make her remember, Emma. Make her remember. Please make her remember.
You HUSH.
Then it will happen again.
“Honey? Why are you crying? What’s wrong?”
“Mom, please stop! Please don’t pretend that everything’s going to be fine. How can you not remember what he did? I saw! You were on the ground in the hall in your green robe…”
“Emily. Stop. That’s enough.”
“No. I can’t! You were crying and crying because he hurt you and he wouldn’t stop hurting you. I hate him! I’ll never forgive him!”
“That’s between me and your father, Emily.”
“Mom, please!” I clutch at her abruptly rigid hands, desperate. Entombed demons scrape up from their packed dirt grave, clawing at my ankles. They’re ghosts of something I can’t quite remember. But she does…Mom knows, I can tell. “It won’t be different if you don’t remember everything. You can’t let him come back! What about Claire...”
“Emily! I said that’s enough. Leave my prescription and go to your room. Immediately. Go!”
Broken, I hurl the pills against the headboard and run from the room, slamming the door behind me.
Pressed against the wall outside her door, my body quakes with silent sobs.
You stupid STUPID Girl…
“Emma?”
Aidan and Claire stand at the top of the stairs. Aidan grips Claire’s hand protectively. “What’s wrong? Is Mom okay?”
The length and number of impossibly black lashes rimming Claire’s wide innocent eyes crush me with their unblemished perfection. I would do anything for my little sister.
“Yes! She loved her sandwich, Bug. Sorry. I banged my stupid elbow on the door. Let’s go eat.”
Seven
Suffocating gloom blankets the house, each of us trail fog of unspoken tension. It gathers in the corners, piling up to the ceiling…a carbon monoxide cloud of toxic unwillingness to talk about anything that might be uncomfortable.
Or is it just me, projecting? Maybe the kids are fine. Maybe they don’t feel the mounting pressure closing in around us, the crackle of static electricity causing my sanity’s barometer to plummet.
After dinner and two episodes of Adventure Time, the boys left to play x-box and Claire banished me to the couch. “Stop petting me, Emma. I’m not a poodle!” Now she’s weaving tiny colored rubber bands into bracelets at the kitchen table. Every time I glance over I swear the space around her grows heavier, darker.
Protect her, Emma. Don’t let it happen again.
“Protect her how? From what?” I plead silently with the little girl who lives in my head, but her words are only wispy faded echoes.
I said those words to Mom earlier, but I don’t know what I meant. Yes. He hit her. I remember that. She was on the floor in the hall, sobbing. But why? What happened? What made him so angry?
Remember. Remember. Remember. Remember or it will happen again.
It’s driving me mad, watching thunderheads brew around my little sister.
“Aren’t you tired, Bug,” I ask when I can’t bear it any longer. “I haven’t read to you in a few nights.”
“Are you serious? It’s eight o’clock. You’re being unchill, Emma. It’s weirding me out a little.”
“Come on,” I plead, “I’m bored.” It’s a bald-faced lie, but I’m desperate. “It’ll be fun. I could braid your hair. Let’s have Claire and Emma time.”
She studies me, considering, then a sudden light gleams in her eyes. She’s thought of something she wants. She’s always been good at negotiating.
“On one condition. We get to do whatever I want. Promise?”
“Yes, yes, absolutely. You’re in charge, Bug. I promise.”
“Yay! I have to go get something. You sit here and close your eyes. No peeking, okay?”
“No peeking.” I agree.
She scurries away, her feet scampering up the front stairs. She’s back before she was gone.
“Are your eyes still closed,” she asks from the bottom step.
“Yep.”
Her shadow falls across my eyelids as she deposits something heavy and wooden in my lap.
The box.
A peal of August thunder rumbles in the distance.
“I found this today while Aidan and I were playing hide and seek,” she whispers. “It was in your closet behind your sneakers. Has it been in there this whole time?” She pauses, waiting for my answer but I am mute. “Emma? Open your eyes! It’s the chest from the Seventh Kingdom,” she squeals.
I’m being ridiculous. It’s a harmless box of childhood memories. Besides, it’s real whether I open my eyes or not.
“I want you to tell me the story of the Fae like you did when we were little, remember? About Nissa and Xander and Peter the Toad.”
A chill traces my spine. The Seventh Kingdom isn’t a safe place for children anymore. But no matter how hard I try, I can’t keep the First Realm from trespassing on ours. It’s one of the reasons Mom made me stop telling this story so long ago. Because they’d gotten out of control.
“BOYS!” Claire yells. “Come here, quick! Emma needs you!”
“Claire, the boys aren’t going to want to hear a fairytale, trust me.”
“NEVERMIND,” she yells again.
“We’re literally in the next room, Claire,” Aidan grumps in. “You made me lose my turn. Why do you have to…oh Holy Balls, Batman! Is that the box from the Seventh Kingdom?”
“Aidan! Don’t say balls!”
“Oh holy BALLS.” Jacob almost trips over Aidan. “That’s the Elder Futhark chest. You weren’t seriously going to tell the story without us, were you?”
“No, I…”
“Uncool, Emily,” Aidan frowns.
“Wait. You guys actually want me to tell you a story?”
Jacob takes the box from my lap and sets it on the coffee table. “I thought this thing got lost in the move or something.”
They all reach inside, pulling objects out and lining them up on the table.
What if...what if I can fix the story? I mean, I created it, after all. I can tell it any way I want. I can make it safe, with a happy ending.
“Tell me what you remember about the Fae, Bug.”
“They’re fairies. Fae means faerie, right?”
“Right,” Jacob says. “And they’re Magic. The Fae get their powers from their parents during a Changing Ceremony at the beginning of puberty…”
“Ugh,” Claire makes a face. “We had to learn about stinky puberty in school.”
“Stop interrupting,” Jacob says. “As I was saying, the dads give their kids a Spark and their moms give them a Flame at their Changing. For an elf the Spark and Flame combine to open his Mind’s Eye so he can See the elements in Nature on a molecular level. The gift is called Keen, which means ‘sharp sight’…”
“And is totally awesome,” Aidan interjects. “It means they can learn to manipulate and arrange matter!”
“…and for the maidens the gift is called Blaze. A maiden’s Spark and Flame make her wings start to grow and open her Inner Eye so she can See and weave the power stored in her wings into Intention.”
“What’s Intention?” Claire asks.
Jacob doesn’t give me a chance to re
spond. “It means being determined to do something and not giving up.”
I’m floored. Did I really tell them all this geeky science stuff? I was twelve the last time I told this story. I don’t remember being such a nerd.
“Don’t forget the weird ones,” Aidan adds. ”The Ovulaters.”
Jacob cracks up. “Ovulaters? Aidan, do you even know what ‘ovulate’ means?”
Aidan grins. He knows.
“You guys are disgusting,” I interject. “They’re called Ovates, not Ovulaters.”
“You know that means egg-shaped, right?” Jacob asks me.
“It’s also a class of Druids. I did my research. It’s a real thing.”
“Whatever. Ovates aren’t weird Aidan,” Jacob continues. “They’re beast. They’re the maidens who can manipulate the elements and the elves who grow wings.”
“So they’re gay.”
“Nice, Claire. Why would it matter if they’re gay?” he asks. “The point is they’re the strongest. That’s why the Queen chose them as her bodyguards. A few of them have both male and female powers, like Drake. He’s the Queen’s High Counselor, and probably the most powerful Fae. Like, of all time.”
“Jacob, how do you remember all this?”
“I might have written it down. I loved this story.”
Their enthusiasm surrounds me, pushing back the oppressive gloom, soothing raw places left by my meltdown with Mom. This is exactly what I need.
“You guys. How about if we get in our pajamas and make snacks and I’ll tell you a new adventure of the Fae?”
“Yes! I’ll make the popcorn,” Jacob says.
“Perfect. Let’s have a race to see who can change the quickest. Bet I beat you back!”
I hang my clothes over the desk chair and pull on a loose tank top, matching pajama shorts, and a light cardigan to cover the brands on my arm. I feel like a completely different person than I did even half an hour ago. Optimism rises like fresh-blown bubbles up from my stomach and I decide right now: I’m going to unblock Sophie’s number tomorrow and call her. I’ll beg and plead if I have to until she forgives me for being such a wretched, miserable friend.
“OMFG.” I enunciate each letter and start giggling like a loon because it’s just occurred to me: in my dreams, Xander is Nice Sophie and Twist is Sophie In A Bad Mood. The twin faeries even look just like Soph: they’re both petite blondes with lacquered lips and mischievous eyes. I miss my best friend.
How did I not recognize the infinite ways shutting myself away and hiding from the world for the past two months was going to make things even worse for me? Things have been getting pretty sketch. I shudder to think how close I came to losing it mentally: the voices, the nightmares, the paranoia and doom. Thank God for my brothers and sister. They are my lifelines to sanity.
I run a brush through my hair and reach for a lip-gloss on the vanity.
Lip-gloss and pajamas, Emma? The little girl giggles.
“Why not? My lips are dry.”
Eight
“Popcorn smells so gross.” I skip downstairs into the family room and slam on the brakes. My stocking feet skid in a wild effort to back-peddle, nearly face-planting me on the slick hardwood floor.
What. Fresh. HELL.
Gabe sits between Claire and Aidan on the couch. With a bowl of popcorn.
“Emma, look who it is!” A profound and wicked glee moves Claire’s eyebrows to her hairline. Both boys wear wide grins.
They aren’t stupid. They know it’s all kinds of wrong they let him in. In fact, letting people in has never once been an issue because they hide whenever someone comes to the door in case it’s a salesperson, or worse: missionaries. My awkward is funny to them, and subtlety is a communicable disease.
“Sorry.” Gabe stands up. At least he has the decency to be embarrassed. “They wouldn’t let me leave.”
“I’m in charge,” Claire reminds me magnanimously.
I don’t bother to hide my scowl. “Guys, it’s time for bed.”
Jacob snorts. “It’s barely nine o’clock.”
“Don’t be mad, Emma. He brought flowers!” Claire points to a vase on the end table filled with white lilac, pale purple roses, and giant snowy gardenia. Oh wow. I can’t stop from sticking my nose right in the middle of the blooms. The mellow-sultry mingling of fragrances tames me. Stupid Gabe, for disarming me so easily.
“You didn’t call,” he says. “I wanted to make sure you were alright. You look really good though, so I’ll just go…”
“You should stay,” Claire grabs his arm. “She’s telling us a story.”
He squirms.
The last thing I need is a swoon-worthy guy who probably already thinks I’m off my rocker in the audience, but his distress is endearing, and I feel too good to be cross.
“You might as well finish your popcorn.”
“It’s all right if I stay?” he stammers, shocked at the one-eighty I’ve done.
The truth is, he makes me feel safe. Tendrils of heat spread outward from my middle, climbing up my cheeks. “Why not? And thanks for the flowers. They’re gorgeous.”
Behind me Jacob snickers.
Gabe moves to sit on the edge of a cushion at the far end of the sectional like someone who wants to belong but knows he doesn’t.
“You can trade spots with me if you want to sit by Emily,” Aidan offers with zero attempt to keep a creepy leer from his voice.
As much as I want to smack my youngest brother, the irony of the situation isn’t lost on me. My last meeting with Gabe was mortifying. Now the tables are turned and he is stuck.
“Aidan, give Gabe a brief background of the Seventh Kingdom.”
“Well, basically there are these faeries. The boys are elves and the girls are maidens. The last time we heard this story, which was five years ago, the King and his elves had left to hunt a band of goblins called crimbal. All the maidens have to stay at home because they’re fragile dainty treasures and the King won’t let them do anything fun because his mom died when he was young so now he thinks girls are too dumb and weak to look after themselves.”
“Aidan!”
“What? That’s what happened. You just used different words.”
“I like Emma’s way better,” Claire complains.
“Anyway,” Jacob takes over, “the Queen is all worried because the whole kingdom is dysfunctional. As soon as the elves leave to hunt the crimbal she calls her Chief Counselor, who’s a Shemale…”
“OhmygoshJacobSTOP.” I cover Claire’s ears and glare at him.
“It’s okay, Emma. I know what a tamale is.”
I can’t help it. I hang my head to hide a grin. They’re so stinking funny. Digging deep I compose myself. “Do you want me to finish the story or not?”
“Sorry,” they say.
They’re not.
I sneak a glance at Gabe. The dazed alarm on his face is one hundred percent justified. “You guys are only embarrassing yourselves, you know,” I tell the boys.
“I’m pretty sure we’re embarrassing both of you, too.” Aidan quips.
“They’re not really homophobes.” I try explaining.
“We’re not racists either, or even good at biology,” says Jacob, tossing Jasmine-Polly Pocket to Gabe, who has no idea what to do with her. “This is Princess Nissa. Mary and Joseph are her parents.”
“Hush,” I grin. “Listen. Drake used his dual powers of Blaze and Keen to craft three extraordinary weapons for Princess Nissa’s thirteenth birthday: a shield, a gauntlet, and a silver dagger.”
Aidan hands me the toy shield, beaded cuff, and letter opener from the box. I fasten the cuff around Claire’s skinny pink freckled forearm.
“Drake and the Queen began to train Nissa in the Art of Combat. They infused each of the weapons with a portion of their own power, making
the weapons amplifiers that exponentially increase the power of the one who wields them. The Queen hoped that Foster would bless the weapons with his own infusion at Nissa’s Changing ceremony, but she warned Nissa that the King would not approve of their lessons, that it would take patience to win him over, that they would need to stop training once he returned home.”
“Nissa didn’t listen, did she?” Claire looks up at me, eyes round with worry.
“No, Bug, she didn’t listen. She couldn’t wait to tell her father. She thought he would be so proud of her progress.”
Claire mouths the words ‘she should have listened’ before pulling her cozy blanket over us and snuggling up against me.
A darting lavender flicker in the air above Gabe’s head catches my eye. It’s Xander. For one long disoriented second my vision spins like a cyclone before the Seventh Kingdom takes over. I squeeze my eyes shut and hold my breath, but it’s no use. I’m not just telling the story anymore…the images Twist relays to Xander stream in real time directly into my head from the First Realm.
“The palace walls shake with Foster’s fury. He orders the Queen to be thrown in the dungeons.”
“Emily?” That’s Gabe. I hear him calling my name like I’m underwater, but I can’t answer. I can’t do anything except stare in horror at Nissa and the Queen. Hot tears scorch their cheeks. Begging and pleading they scrabble for each other’s fingertips as Kaillen holds Nissa back and the King’s guards drag the Queen from her chambers.
“Are you okay, Emily?” Concerned unease fills Gabe’s words. “Why does her voice sound hollow like that?” he asks the kids. “What is she staring at?”
Snap out of it, young lady, this instant!
“This used to happen sometimes,” Jacob’s reply is hushed. “When the story got too intense.”
Pull it together, Emily! You CANNOT let that young man know you’re crazy.
I let my gaze go soft and my eyes cross slightly so I can see both Realms simultaneously, superimposing the Seventh Kingdom over reality.
With monumental effort I manage a weak smile. “I’m fine. Sorry guys, I guess I zoned out for a second.”
Riven: Young Adult Fantasy Novel (My Myth Trilogy Book 1) Page 5
