by Oates, Carol
“I’m not avoiding anything,” Candra snapped.
“So, lying as well—that’s so much better.” Sebastian’s lips pulled up on one side more than the other. It wasn’t a smile. He was being cocky, his frustration with her coming out the only way he knew how.
“I’m not lying. Brie will be there. Call her and check, since you obviously don’t trust me.” Candra grabbed her phone from her bag and threw it at him. He caught it with ease. Her heart had started to race, adrenaline firing through her body, making her breathe fast.
“I don’t want to make a phone call,” he snapped, color pinking up in his cheeks. “I want to know why you are shutting me out. Did I do something or say something wrong? I know I’m not good with the emotional stuff, but I thought we were friends.”
“Friends?” Candra parroted.
“Yeah.”
“We’re not friends,” she barked, snatching the phone from his hand. Her brain was stabbing an accusing finger at her. Liar, liar, pants on fire. “Ivy and I were friends. She was the one there for me for all those years I was kept hidden from you!” Candra pushed her finger into his chest forcefully and was mildly surprised when he staggered.
Sebastian was bigger than Candra and one hundred percent sinewy muscle. It wasn’t physical weakness that made him stumble. She had hit on a raw nerve.
“All you’ve done is bring me misery and heartache. I was happy before, without you or your stalkerish, clingy ways—”
“Clingy?” His eyebrows shot up practically into his hairline.
“Yes. Clingy, insecure, stubborn, bad-tempered, and so egotistical that it’s beyond your realm of understanding that anyone would ever want to leave you, that anyone could be happy without you in their life. Guess what? I was!” Candra ranted and then had to suck in a much needed breath.
Sebastian paled, and Candra felt bile rising. The worst part for her was that most of it was true. She knew these parts of him, but she knew they were only parts, tiny parts of the complex being in front of her, glowering and clenching and unclenching his fist. The small vein on his temple throbbed where he had raked away the pale golden strands of hair that normally fell across it.
“Don’t you think I feel like the lowest form of life for bringing this to your door? Don’t you think that I constantly regret the day I ever laid eyes on you?” he said coldly with a deadly calm.
Hurt coursed through her; how could she not believe he meant it? She wanted to hurt him and, with equal measure, didn’t. It was all so confusing, but it seemed her brain had disconnected from her mouth. “Not as much as I regret it, and I look forward to the day you are out of my life for good.”
Sebastian drew back like she’d hit him…again. Candra reminded herself it was for his own good. It was better this way. The longer he stayed around her, the more likely it was she would give into her feelings for him or he would see she wasn’t a saving angel. She was just a scared little girl. She took the opportunity of his silence to storm past him. He didn’t move at all, not even when her shoulder brushed his arm.
Candra paused at the door, slammed by another wave of remorse, thinking this situation was yet a further example of how cruel she was capable of being.
“I need some breathing space,” she whispered just loud enough for him to hear before she left…alone.
Ivy’s home wasn’t far. Her apartment building was walking distance, but Candra didn’t feel like walking. She felt as if she hadn’t slept in weeks, and her pumps weren’t exactly walker friendly, so she hailed a cab not far from home, ignoring the winged creatures watching her.
The building itself was old and worn. There were dark stains on the bare concrete and large paneled windows. Most of the huge windows were original on the outside; people tended to do that in Acheron. If a building was refurbished, only the inside was repainted. It was intended to preserve the appearance of the old city. Instead, together with the modern buildings, it left the city mismatched, like an outfit thrown together. That was an accurate description of its residents too: a melting pot of beings flung together by design or circumstance.
Candra passed by a few men smoking outside the entrance and knew they had come from Ivy’s home. They were all turned out in their best mourning wear: black suits accompanied by crisp white shirts, a uniform for the bereaved. One of the older men she recognized as Ivy’s grandfather nodded an acknowledgement in a move that made Candra start because of its similarity to the Watcher greeting. He caught her reaction and smiled sadly, maybe thinking it was grief that made her jumpy. She smiled in return, acknowledging him, but didn’t approach. Instead, she made her way inside the building and took a jarring elevator ride to the seventh floor.
The apartment door was open, and the sound of muted, chattering voices floated through the air. Candra walked through the corridor to the main room, past family and friends drinking tea from china cups and tumblers of golden brown liquid. She found Ivy’s mom, Sheila, in the living room, sitting on her overstuffed couch and being comforted by another woman dressed in black. Candra presumed the woman was one of her sisters, since they shared the same mahogany hair and large, stricken doe eyes. Ivy came from a massive extended family, but Candra hadn’t realized how massive until that precise moment in a roomful of people, so many with shared features.
As soon as Sheila spotted Candra, a fresh wave of tears rolled over her ruddy cheeks, and she stood, reaching across the small coffee table scattered with teacups, creamers, and sugar bowls.
“Oh, Candra, thank you so much for coming. It’s been so terrible, so terrible,” she cried as Candra released her. Sheila appeared to zone out a little for a brief instant before regaining herself. “Sit, please sit.” She shooed away the occupant of the armchair closest to her, a young guy who seemed to have already imbibed his fair share of whiskey, judging by his glazed eyes and slightly unsteady gait.
Candra sat down, smoothing her dress over her thighs, and lightly clasped her hands in her lap before one of them was snatched away. Sheila held Candra’s hand between both of hers, rubbing it briskly like she was trying to warm it up and smiling again, a little maniacally.
“Have some tea, Candra,” she offered, waving to the china strewn table.
“I’m fine, thanks,” Candra replied softly.
She strongly suspected Sheila had been medicated. Her eyes were wide, and her pupils dilated ever so slightly.
“You’ll have some, just one cup,” Sheila insisted with a slight Dublin twang, which was bizarre since she had never left Acheron to Candra’s knowledge, and she had never noticed it before.
Definitely medicated.
“I’ll refresh the kettle, Sheila,” the woman beside her said, patting Sheila’s leg before scooping up two tea pots from the table.
“I’m so sorry,” Candra told her, feeling her throat tighten. “Where is Frank?”
Sheila stopped her assault on Candra’s hand and simply held it between hers in a way that Candra had to continue sitting forward within her reach. Sheila sighed deeply.
“It was all getting a bit much for him around here, so I sent him to the liquor store with one of his boys to restock. They probably stopped off somewhere. I can’t blame him, you know.” She paused when a little sob seemed to catch her off guard, and she leaned forward to whisper. “Between you and me, the doctor gave me a little something to help me through today.”
Candra was right. She nodded and forced a small smile. Sheila smiled too and lifted her hand to tap the side of her nose winking, indicating it was to be their secret, although Candra was pretty sure anyone within fifty feet could tell.
“Have the police been able to tell you anything? Do they know what happened?” Candra asked hesitantly.
Sheila’s eyes fell downcast to their joined hands. “They have the boy in custody. He is just a kid. Sixteen, can you believe that? Where does a sixteen-year-old get a gun? God help him.”
“God help him?” Candra repeated, shocked by Sheila’s sadness apparently ext
ending to the boy who took Ivy’s life.
“Yes, the boy was hungry, Candra, and the police told us he swears the gun went off by accident. He never meant to hurt anyone.”
“If he never meant to hurt anyone, the gun wouldn’t have been loaded,” Candra complained. “If he never meant to hurt anyone, he wouldn’t have had a gun in the first place.”
“No, no,” Sheila hushed her, “you can’t think that way. I don’t know why this has happened. I don’t understand why my beautiful baby is gone when I’m left here to struggle on without her. But I trust that God had a reason for calling Ivy home.”
“How can you say that? Ivy didn’t believe in destiny or fate. She believed we make our own choices.”
“I have to believe there’s a reason. How else can we make sense of this? I have to believe God has a plan.”
“What if he doesn’t, or what if he doesn’t even care anymore?”
Sheila hummed thoughtfully and picked up an empty cup, taking a sip without even noticing.
“Ivy had faith that there was more than just this—” Sheila’s hand waved around her. “That’s what faith is, believing in something bigger than ourselves. She was a good girl, and I have to believe she’s gone to a better place.”
Candra frowned; she didn’t know what to believe anymore. She had a luxury others didn’t have, because she knew for sure that heaven existed, and still it didn’t make it easier that Ivy was gone. Besides, would it eventually be heaven for her, without her father there, or Brie, or Sebastian?
The other woman returned with a tea pot and a fresh cup. She smiled kindly and placed it on the table before starting to clear up the dirty cups. Sheila placed a small metal strainer on a cup and poured some tea in, adding milk and two heaped teaspoons of sugar.
“Hot, sweet tea, it will do you good,” she said, handing it to Candra and then pouring one for herself, pausing after two spoons of sugar and staring at the spoon for a moment, then popping another two in the cup. “She used to call you her angel.”
“Excuse me?”
“She said you looked out for her, kept her from being bullied. She said being your friend made her special. From the very first day of school, you were her guardian angel.”
Candra was struck dumb for a moment. Ivy had never told Candra that. She guessed there were things they didn’t tell each other after all. Maybe she was there for Ivy at times, but Ivy was special without her, and she hadn’t been there when it mattered.
Candra looked down to her hands, wringing them together until a gentle hand lay across them. She looked up into Sheila’s glassy eyes.
“Candra, I know right now we all doubt ourselves. Could we have done something? Made different decisions? We’re all being a little selfish and thinking about what we’ve lost. I’m so angry at that boy I could make a stew out of him.”
Candra guessed Sheila didn’t know how disturbing it was when she stopped to smack her lips together as if thinking about something tasty, because she just continued on. “It’s okay. It’s normal…the doctor was telling me just this morning, all part of the process, he says. It’s not what you think about doing that’s important. At time like this, you can’t control your thoughts much. What’s important is the thoughts you act on.”
Candra felt the tears building in her eyes and bit her lip brutally to hold them back. It was so strange; she knew Sheila was talking about Ivy, but she could have been speaking about Candra’s situation too. She wished had a fraction of Sheila’s faith in this great plan she so believed in.
Sheila sat back a little, still holding onto Candra’s hand, and blinked a few times. For an instant Candra wondered if she was about to doze off. The other woman beside her went to take her hand, mouthing “sorry,” but Sheila shrugged her off.
“You’re a good girl, Candra. You take care of yourself; Ivy wouldn’t want anything to happen to you. You know, I think she was right. Look at the light just shinning out of you. You’re a proper angel.”
Candra’s eyes widened.
“Right…I have to make Frank’s ham sandwiches,” Sheila finished, suddenly looking a little confused and peering around with squinted eyes like she was searching for someone.
“Okay,” the other woman interrupted. “I think you should probably have a lie down, Sheila. I’ll take care of the sandwiches.” She took Sheila’s hand from Candra’s and helped Sheila to stand. Sheila nodded, choking back a sob. Candra stood quickly and threw her arms around Ivy’s mother. She probably wouldn’t remember any of the conversation, but Candra would.
Chapter Seventeen
“Sebastian is very worried about you,” Brie said.
Candra was slicing red peppers for the chicken noodle soup that they were making together, and the scent of frying chicken filled the kitchen.
“When isn’t he worried?” she mumbled.
Brie shrugged and glanced over her shoulder from where she was stirring stock. “More than usual then.”
“Is that even possible?”
Brie chuckled. “I didn’t think so.” She paused for a moment, and suddenly the silence was deafening. Candra knew she was working up to something. “You know,” her stepmother started without looking back to her, “you don’t have to tell me what’s going on with you and him…but I wish you would.”
Candra sighed, picking up the chopping board to push the peppers into a bowl, and started chopping onions without answering.
“I know I should have stepped in sooner and told him to back off. I know I’ve let you down in so many ways. I don’t know why I didn’t make him leave.” Brie turned then and picked up the bowl from the table, standing over Candra. “I didn’t see this developing so far between you two. Even when Lofi suggested he had ulterior motives for hanging around.” Brie frowned, making the line deepen between her eyebrows. Candra returned to the onions, forcing her attention on them. “You were always bickering. I thought he was simply protecting you, and I felt…weak. I felt weak because I couldn’t do it and he could. So I did nothing.”
“It’s true there’s a fine line between love and hate,” Candra said offhandedly.
“What?” Brie asked quietly, and Candra cringed when she realized her mistake. “You can’t love him.”
Clearly, I could, Candra thought.
She looked up at Brie, blinking away the tears that were forming in her eyes from the onions. Brie’s face had gone quite pale.
“This is awful,” Brie lamented, bringing her hand up to wipe over her face.
Candra stood, taking the bowl from Brie’s other hand, and carried that and the chopping board to the stove. She dumped the contents of both into the pot, ignoring when the boiling stock splattered her arm.
“No, being in love with Sebastian is not awful. My best friend being gunned down because she probably just wanted a soda is awful. Being forced into a bizarre arranged relationship is awful. Being lied to my entire life is awful,” Candra ranted, feeling her blood pressure escalate and dropping the bowl into the sink with too much force. The impact made the bowl crack loudly. She washed her hands quickly and spun around, placing her still wet hands on the edge of the counter for support. “But you don’t need to worry because I’m not in love with him,” she snapped.
Brie sucked in a sharp breath, shaking her head as if she was disagreeing with Candra. “I’m sorry,” she forced out between her fingers that were pressed to her mouth and then sank down into the seat Candra had vacated moments ago.
The irritation behind Candra’s sudden outburst was fading fast; she didn’t have the will to hold onto it. She felt so tired, drained as if she had been awake for days, and she didn’t want to fight on their last evening together. She didn’t want to sit for hours hugging and crying either. She wanted this to be just like every other evening, like her life wasn’t changing tomorrow.
“I can’t bear the idea of this being any harder for you, Candra,” Brie sobbed, scratching her index fingernail on the wood of the table. “If I could take your place,
I would. You know that, right?”
She looked up at Candra beseechingly. Her large brown eyes grew huge against her sunken cheekbones, and Candra felt the irritation ebb further. She turned to the stove and removed the pot from the heat before joining Brie at the table.
“I wish I understood why everyone can’t just be together.”
Brie reached over to hold Candra’s hand and smiled sadly. “I don’t understand it myself most of the time. It seems so futile, all these years later. There was so much hurt and anger. We all needed a direction for it, so we directed it at each other. After a time, it became part of us. It’s how it is.”
“How it is, isn’t how it should be.”
“I know.”
“You know, I’m not giving up. This is not me giving up.” Candra pulled her hand back and rubbed her face out of sheer frustration.
“Maybe you will be the one that changes things.” Brie smiled.
“I don’t know. My life in comparison to a Watcher’s is barely a blip in time. It feels insignificant in the grand scheme of things. I still don’t understand why my father would do this to me and to you. I just wish I knew what it is Draven really wants.”
“I wish I could give you the answers.” Brie paused and scowled down at the table, before looking back to Candra. “You should know one thing: your father loved you. He loved you very, very much. He didn’t abandon you and leave you to deal with all this. He believed he would be here for you. It was the driver who made the choice to get behind the wheel after drinking for six hours straight.” She sighed again and grabbed Candra’s hand. “And you are not insignificant. You could never be. What both your parents did for me was more than I ever imagined possible. They gave me a daughter.”
Candra sniffled and bit her lip before she reached over, hugging Brie warmly, once again allowing her fingers to run over the rough bone where Brie’s wings used to be.
