by Danae Ayusso
“Who?” we demanded.
He shrugged. “The therapist that I had arranged for you to speak with if required. She said that entertaining Justice wasn’t safe and could do more harm than good.”
Fuck that bitch.
Yeah, I have to agree with you on that one.
“So why are you?” we asked the obvious.
Price looked over at us and smiled. “Because of the way I feel when speaking with both of my daughters, even if they are in one vessel,” he said. “I know in my heart that speaking to Justice, referring to the very distinct personalities cohabitating in my daughter as two people, is right. The thought of ignoring her, of not speaking with her when she has obvious control of the vessel, it killed me inside. That’s why I know the therapist was wrong. Trying to force Justice into the darkness and from our minds isn’t the right thing to do, regardless of all the supporting evidentiary proof provided. The genius side is easily ignored by the father side.”
We wiped away the tear that rolled down our cheek.
“Don’t cry,” he pleaded. “You’ll make me cry.”
Of course we laughed.
“How was school?” Price asked, changing the subject. “Aside from the fight and getting sick in flex hour. Mr. Meyers called and wanted to know if there were any concerns he should have when it pertained to you or if his son was the cause of your sudden nausea.”
“It wasn’t Skeeter,” I said. “He reminds me of my homie Moe. He’s a sweet kid and harmless. Amusing in ways that should be criminal, but he’s harmless. It was the realization that my French delusion wasn’t a delusion in the least. After that, it just snowballed. By the time lunch came around, I was done. Lizzy ran her mouth and there were just too many people looking at me so I bailed. I hope that’s okay.”
He nodded. “Draven warned me when I called.”
“You called him?!” I asked in disbelief.
Again, he nodded. “I wanted Draven to keep an eye on you since you share many classes together, and if needed intervene. It was only a matter of time before Soren figured it out. You look so much like my mother’s side of the family, the Swedish side, but you could be my little sister’s doppelgänger. Soren knew her, and that was why you were familiar to him when he first saw you this summer. And because you did what you did today to him, that would cause many demands for answers and unwanted visitors to the house. He followed me from the school,” he admitted. “And the fighting started before I even put the truck in park.”
That makes sense and confirms what Draven had said.
Why did Daddy ask that French fuck to keep an eye on you instead of the lost puppy?
That’s a very good question… One I don’t want to know the answer to.
Pussy.
Yup.
“Are you ready to talk now?” I asked.
Price looked over at me, his smile falling. “I’m trying to figure out where to begin,” he admitted.
The million-dollar question.
Yes, it is.
“Start at the beginning,” I suggested.
“The beginning?” Price asked, as if that never occurred to him.
He’s adorable when scrambling to figure shit out.
I nodded my agreement.
“Yes, I suppose that would be prudent,” he agreed. “In 1776 the Simoeaus and the Val Zuls staked claim to the land which is now called Deer Lodge County. Because of how remote it was, only our families were in the area aside from the locals: the Pend d’ Oreille and Salish tribes. Deer Lodge County overlaps into the common hunting grounds of the tribes in the area, and our families weren’t like other white settlers. We fought against the white man with our native brothers… That isn’t important at the moment,” he said, catching himself.
Now some of the pictures in the house make sense, I think.
“In 1780, when I was ten–” he said.
I pulled the reins back, pulling Moonshine to a stop.
“What?” we asked.
Price stopped and he shook his head with a sigh. “I was born in 1770 in what is now called Anaconda. My parents first came to America when they were twelve. My father lost his parents and my mother’s parents took him in and they eventually fell in love, and me and my brothers and sisters were the result of the union.”
“You don’t have fangs!” I blurted out.
Draven already told us that!
I wasn’t there with your French fuck!
“No, I suppose I don’t,” Price replied, giving us a look. “There is more to mythology and lore than just vampires, werewolves, witches, wizards and such. The list is endless really, and it usually translates to immortality in one form or another. Modern society is so inundated with Hollywood-fueled imaginations in regards to the mythical and paranormal worlds that it makes it very difficult to blend in anymore and it causes witch hunts and vampire fanatics to run rampant causing a body count.”
“Draven told me we’re Lares and they’re Larvae,” I said.
His top lip snarled.
“Be nice, Daddy,” I scolded, causing him to blush with a smile. “Draven answered a couple of the questions I had, but he didn’t explain the reason behind it. It was more of a mythology lesson… Do they offer mythology at school?” I asked as more of an afterthought.
Ooh that would be helpful.
“I know, right? A way to get to the head of the class in the mythical world, in a sense. I hate being the dumbest person in the room, and when it comes to the black eyes and speed thing, I’m at the bottom of the class,” I complained.
Ugh, I didn’t think about that. You need to resolve it or I will.
“Shut up. I’ll take care of it tomorrow.”
“Girls?” Price asked.
“We’re here,” we said. “Just debating how to resolve our ignorance when it comes to the mythical world we just discovered we’re a part of.”
He nodded. “You’re strangely accepting of that.”
I chuckled.
If only he knew.
“It makes us feel less crazy,” we admitted. “What happened? How did we become like this or were you born this way?”
We were born this way.
Yeah, but we have issues. Price is much more mentally sound than we are.
True.
Price shook his head with a soft chuckle.
What does that mean?
Daddy’s happy that we’re making this info dump he’s about to drop on us as effortless as we seemingly are.
Oh. Well, Draven helped with that… As much as I hate to admit it.
I still don’t like him.
He isn’t yours to like or not.
So he’s yours now?
Yes, he is. Get over it.
Price clicked his tongue and both horses started walking again. “When I was ten,” he continued, “a young servant girl came to the area with Noëlle Van Zul from the east and she instantly bewitched me. Sadly, she also bewitched the son of her master.”
“Soren,” I whispered.
“Yes. Novalea was beyond words, and was the most beautiful creature I had ever laid eyes on, until you,” he said with a small smile. “There was something about her thick accent and how her eerily light blue eyes looked against her light brown skin that glistened in the sun. Her tawny, honey streaked hair was as soft as cashmere, and the large, loose curls wrapped around your fingers when you could no longer deny yourself from touching them. But it was more than just her physical attributes and how different they were compared to us white people,” he said with a chuckle. “She was smart and beyond her years for someone so young and born into servitude, for someone that was denied an education, but her words and the passion behind them rendered everyone that heard them speechless.
“For years my best friend and I silently fought over Novalea while befriending her, and the three of us did nearly everything together as a result. Soren professed his feelings for her, and Novalea turned him down, which made the pompous creature irate. Van Zuls are not used t
o being told no. Because of her dismissal of Soren’s intentions, I did not press the matter of my intentions. I was too scared of her rejection. Eventually Soren went west for schooling, as did some of my brothers and sisters, but I stayed in order to be with Novalea, even if it was only as a friend. During those years, we…” his words trailed off and he shook his head and we rode in silence.
Damn it! I want to know what happened!
You and me both.
“Dad, what happened?” I whispered.
Price sighed, looking over at me. “During those years, we became best friends and something more. One night, when I was twenty-five, I professed my love for her. I promised her that even if she only viewed me, could only love me, as a friend that I would not hold it against her as Soren did. I vowed to love her and forever be her best friend whether she reciprocated the sentiment or not. Then, to my surprise, she kissed me. I had never felt anything like it before. The passion, energy and love was mind numbing. It was beyond anything I could have ever imagined. When Novalea pulled away, she smiled and told me that she had loved me since the first moment she saw me. Just as I was, she was too scared to say anything because she could not risk losing my friendship, and that she was content with having me in her life in any way possible, even if we were just friends.
“Since she was black, it was difficult to convince my parents to let us marry, but eventually my mother gave us her and my father’s blessing. No one crossed mother, especially since I was her favorite,” he smugly informed me.
That doesn’t surprise me.
“I wanted a summer wedding, one that was completely traditional in every sense of the meaning. Perhaps because I wanted my wife-to-be to feel like everyone else and not as a simple servant girl and lower class citizen because of her race. My brothers and sisters that were away came back for the ceremony, and they gave their blessing, some grudgingly since Novalea was black.
“It was a beautiful summer day, one that I had waited my entire life for, and it was the perfect setting to start our lives together. The long emerald grass was dancing in the warm breeze, and tall wildflowers skirted the creek below. It was the perfect day. Never had Novalea looked more beautiful than she did in the wedding dress my mother had made her, in the veil that had been passed down from generation to generation on my mother’s side adorning her head. The babbling creek below us and the joyful songs of the birds in the trees were the aria for the beautiful moment. I said I do with a smile consuming my face and my heart was racing in anticipation of her ‘I do’. Before Novalea could say it, an unwelcomed wedding guest took what should have been the most wonderful day of my life and turned it into the worst.
“Soren returned from San Francisco specifically to ruin our wedding. He was not in love with Novalea anymore; he just didn’t want her with me… She was nothing more than a possession, which he coveted. Soren charged the bridge we were exchanging our vows on with his brothers and a shoving match broke out, putting the Simoeaus against the Van Zuls for the first time. In the fray, Novalea tried to separate us and somehow was knocked back into the railing and she flipped over it.
“The silence that followed was maddening and everything seemingly happened in slow motion yet in a blur of motion that I couldn’t process. Soren and I rushed to the railing and when we looked down, neither of us could move. The clear water ran red with the blood of my only love; her white gown flowed around her in the water, rapidly turning from the purity of white to crimson of death.”
Price pulled Pony to a stop then dismounted.
I didn’t know where we were, or how we got here, but we were in the middle of a field. The grass was burned from the sun, turning gold and brown from lack of water. The large trees surrounding the area were barren of leaves, their brittle branches stretching out like clawing skeletal appendages longing to rip into whatever living thing passed too closely. It is eerily quiet, and I feel as if something’s sucking the breath from me.
The entire area is dead.
Life couldn’t possibly exist here, it isn’t possible.
Even the ground and dirt is brittle, as if we somehow were transported to Arica.
I’m not having a good feeling about this.
That makes two of us, Sis.
I looked around, trying to get my bearings.
If that little white bitch shows up, I’m leaving.
That’s the only thing missing from this horror movie in the making.
I attempted to dismount and ended up falling off my horse, not a big surprise there, and Price hurried over to help me up.
“What happened next?” I asked, dusting myself off. “What happened to Novalea?”
Price looked across the area, and I followed his eyes until I saw it: an ancient wood bridge over a dry rocky creek bed.
“The way she landed,” he said in a pained whisper, “her head smashed into a large rock, fracturing her skull in many places. She died instantly; at least I pray that she did. I wanted to die with her,” he admitted. “Novalea was my life, my world, and watching the life and color drain from her eyes turned my heart to stone and my soul as black as the death creeping over her. Soren blamed me, said I killed his only love. It was bullshit of course. He was trying to keep the attention off him since we all knew that if he hadn’t come back…” He shook his head, catching himself.
“It doesn’t matter,” he said. “I laid my wife in the ground two days later in the family cemetery, and I vowed to follow her. That night, while I held my father’s Duval flintlock pistol in my hands, I juxtaposed if I should take my own life or if I should steal Soren’s and then mine. William… Cinder Dick, said that I should get atonement and that she was my wife, even if we hadn’t consummated our marriage. It was my responsibility to claim vengeance so a challenge was issued, and the Simoeau clan met the Van Zul clan here, where my wife was taken from me. But the battle of Lost Creek never got a chance to start. As Soren and I approached each other, weapons in hand, a blinding flash of light exploded from the center of the field, knocking us back.
“Once my vision cleared I saw a woman standing there in a flowing white gown, her hair blowing around her, the noon sun painting her darker skin in a beautiful sheen of luminescent gold. It was Novalea. She was just as beautiful as on our wedding day, but there was something different about her… Something that was emanating from her: power. I groveled on my knees, begging her to forgive me and to take my life in exchange for hers; my only love had to live no matter what. After all, her death was solely my fault. If we had a quick exchanging of vows privately as she wanted, Soren wouldn’t have found out, thus, she wouldn’t have died. If I wasn’t blinded by pride and wanting to give my bride everything I thought she deserved, she wouldn’t have been killed. If I had listened to her and what she wanted, instead of what I wanted to do for her, she wouldn’t have been murdered.
“When she opened her mouth to speak, the sheer force of her voice shook the ground under us, tearing it apart. ‘My blood is on your hands, all of yours. Never again shall any of you experience that which makes the heart whole. And never again will you experience what it means to know love and happiness. You will watch those you love fall around you, and you will bury them over and over until the end of time. And you and you,’ she snarled, pointing at Soren and I, ‘will never know the joys of having a family and you will have to live every moment of every day with the cognize that your family trees, your lineages, can be uprooted at any moment. You will be each other’s demise and bring death, much like this land, to the other. You are damned to this land, and your roots shall never spread farther than that in which you now own. Those that wander for longer than a decennial will become lost. Heed my warning: oneness will be your only reprieve.’
“The ground under her feet rippled away from her, throwing grass, dirt and rocks into the air, leaving death in its wake. The ground, the area, everything that you see, aside from the bridge, is exactly how it looked that day. It can’t sustain life, much like our family trees. And b
efore any of us could ask the questions that were consuming our minds, she exploded in a blinding ball of white light, and the shockwave sent us flying through the air. When I regained consciousness, I stumbled home in a daze to find my mother, aunts, sisters, nieces and cousins, even those in the womb, all dead. The same plagued the Van Zul clan. Any female of our bloodlines was abolished.”
I gasped, covering my mouth with my hands to stifle the pathetic sound.
Whoa. That is so much worse than I thought it would be.
No shit.
Like seriously, what the fuck?!
I haven’t a clue.
“I’m so sorry,” I whispered.
“It isn’t your fault,” Price reminded me.
“I know, but I’m still sorry,” I said. “Then what happened?”
Price shook his head, looking around again. “My father was grief stricken. Mother was his world, his reason for living. Not only did he watch his son lay his wife in the ground two days prior, but now he was burying his wife. She died from a heart attack brought on when her daughters and granddaughters, even the one in her arms, fell dead around her. Father strung himself up in the barn that night. Simian found him and cut him down the next morning. We didn’t know how long he had been in there, his body was cold and lifeless. But then he suddenly drew breath, and that’s when we realized that we couldn’t die. I tried to slice my wrists and they healed; however, not all of us can do that.”
Holy… No way!
This is getting complicated.
“Soren needs to die,” we said.
Really? With death threats again?
Yeah.
I have to agree with you this time.
Price shook his head. “He can’t. Since Soren and I are the root cause of the curse, if we kill the other, we take their death into our self and it will uproot our family trees, killing every branch of them. That’s why you can’t kill him, Mikhail, Justice. I hypothesize since you are of my blood, my only heir, it would be the same as me killing him. That’s why Draven wouldn’t fight back against me today, amongst other reasons. That’s why I wouldn’t let you kill Soren today.”
