Serenity's Key

by Charlotte E Hart

  “Do you feel it yet, my love,” he says, suddenly putting himself in front of me and lowering his frame so he can stare directly into my eyes. I try to move around him, but he won’t let me. He just holds his hands out, not touching me, but causing enough of a barrier with his body that I can’t get past. “That ice is within you, hmm? It kept you alive on those bitter streets, helped you thrive amidst desolation, yes?” No. I was scared on the streets, just trying to survive.

  “I… No, I…”

  “You what, Lilah, hmm? Tell me,” he says, not allowing me to duck away from his piercing green eyes. “You were simply scared? You scampered and crawled? Did you beg?”

  Why is he doing this?

  “Poor little Lilah. Did you enjoy the ravishings? Did you? You did, did you not? Should I do it here again for you? The woods are perfect for such entertainment.”

  “Fuck you.” I have nothing else as my head rears back from him.

  “Yes, indeed. Let us fuck, often. How would you like me, my love? Where? When? How many times? It is all in your grasp. You simply have to take it.”

  “I don’t unders–”

  He turns, flinging his hands up in the air and leaving me standing there as he begins to walk away.

  “I was mistaken, Lilah. Wrong. I apologise. I was incorrect in my analysis of you. You are not ready, nor will you ever be for someone such as me. You are not as you need to be.”

  What? My narrowed eyes pretty much throw daggers at the bastard as he ambles off up the path again, exasperated with me for some reason. When did this become about me? Arsehole. I’m pretty sure he’s the one who needs to be chasing around after me and offering commitment, not telling me I’m incapable. Christ.

  “Where the hell do you think you’re going?”

  “To Claire. To a life I am willing to make with her for…” There is something else after that, but the wind buffets it away before I can catch the actual words.

  “Hey, I haven’t finished with you. You’ve got more apologising to do yet.”

  He doesn’t turn or stop. He just keeps walking as I feel my indignation swirling around inside me.

  I feel like storming after him, grabbing him by the arm and screaming at him, but I don’t know what I’d say. Everything’s confusing again. Me, him, us. Just as I think I’ve got a handle on the situation, I lose it, or he changes the dynamics. If I run after him, I’m chasing. If I stand still, I could lose him. I should be happy about that. I am happy about that. I am ready to be without him. Ready to carry on with my life and be free of all the confusion, but somethings not quite right with the clarity. I know that because as I stand here, my arms itching to reach for him even though they’re clamped to my side, all I can see is the man I love. His head is lowered as he carries on marching away from me. Pascals don’t lower their heads. They shouldn’t. They should stride, chins lifted, heads held high, secure in who they are and never confused about what they need or want. He’s not exasperated or even irritated; he’s saddened, weakened. He is in need… of me, probably. But will he help me understand what all this means now that Alexander can’t? He said I had to learn this myself, pick myself up.

  “If I come, will you catch me?” I shout out onto the wind, not really sure why I’m calling him for help in the midst of the chaos he’s created for us. He simply carries on, his head slightly turned over his shoulder as I watch every subtle feature move against the storm that’s brewing above us. Or maybe it’s within us? Either way, his smirk is not amusing.

  Chapter 6

  There’s still nothing as I stare at his back and watch him wandering away into the fading light, shrugging his coat tighter around him and eventually lifting his head to gaze at the clouds. Presumably, that means that no, he won’t. He said he wouldn’t before. I’m stupid for letting my ridiculous nerves get the better of me. God, I could do with Alexander now. I need him inside my head, need to know what he would do. It makes me feel like getting my phone out and texting him, if only to get a reply that tells me he won’t help either. At least then I’d know he thinks I’m ready. At least he’d deliver the final blow to kick my arse into survival mode. Because that’s what I feel like I need. I want the quiet disillusionment to sweep over me and rid me of the fog that’s lingering again. I can’t see clearly. It happens whenever I’m near Pascal. It always starts well enough, with me feeling in control, but then things become murky as if there are a million questions I don’t have the answers to, even though I feel like I should know them somehow.

  A sigh breaks from my mouth as I start the slow climb up the hill. I don’t know where I’m going, but whatever happens, I do need my bag from that car. It’s all I have left. My thoughts continue to shift and collide as my feet step one in front of the other. Should I go with him? What will happen if I do? What will happen if I don’t? I lift my gaze to see his broad shoulders vanishing into the trees ahead of me and try to listen to my body’s own response to that threat.

  Leaving.

  Him leaving me.

  Him disappearing and me never seeing him again.

  The ache that engulfs my body is nearly unbearable. It tears through my chest as my eyes flick wildly in search of him. It’s not fear. I don’t feel like he’s going to leap out of the bushes at me any minute, although that might be a possibility. It’s not an unwelcome one either, but no, it’s not that. It’s an emptiness of some kind, as if there’s a residual flickering of him inside me, deep inside my ribcage, that refuses to allow him to withdraw from my heart. It makes his absence palpable. Almost as if I’m missing an extension of my own body. When did that start happening? How can I feel that?

  “You’re the one in control. You just have to realise it, Lilah.”

  Alexander’s words again, ringing around my brain. What do they mean? I thought they meant to take charge of my life, get on with it and dismiss this whole thing. Be stronger, braver. To grab what I want and damn the others. To not let things get in my way. To be bolder in my choices and forge my own path, but why do I feel so fucking empty if that’s the case?

  My feet stall as I take the corner he disappeared around. Go grab what I want? What I want.

  I hear rustling nearby and swing around to look for him, but he’s not there. It’s just me, alone. Or I would be if I couldn’t still feel him burning his way around inside me. I stare into the distance and search for him again, desperate to have his mind with me again. Anxiety rears its head, pounding its way through my limbs and making me question what the hell I’m even doing here, but I know the answer. I came here for him. I didn’t have to follow Claire. I didn’t have to do a damn thing he asked. But I did. And I did it for love. I did it because I love him, and because regardless of all these problems, I still want him. Maybe he’s a drug I haven’t got over. An addiction I haven’t got the measure of yet. Or maybe, just maybe, this is right for me. Just the way it is.

  I feel my heart slow at the thought of acceptance, calming my disquiet and warming my soul again as realisation sets in. He’s mine if I want him, and it doesn’t matter if he’s difficult or awkward. It means nothing that we haven’t quite found our balance yet. It only matters that we carry on trying to find it. We may argue. We might fight to the death even. But we will survive each other. I will survive him.

  I tug at my scarf as I move forward again, welcoming the wind that’s beginning to whip up the ground beneath me, and smiling at the thought of tempests. It’s our thing, isn’t it? Buffeting and pummelling each other, trying to find our equilibrium in a raging sea. I should give that more credence than I do. I should embrace the thought that he gives me that, hands himself over to me. Why, I don’t know. What he truly needs from this I still don’t really comprehend, but whatever the reasoning or rationale, it’s real. It’s alive and constantly niggling at me, telling me to accept it and find the right route forward. So, that’s what I’ll do. I’ll trust these instincts that become clearer each day, while trying to figure his complexities into the mix and deal with wha
tever this throws at me next. One thing’s for sure, though. It will all be on my terms.

  Not his.

  I eventually see him standing by the entrance to the woods, the same cut through we originally used to enter, and I try not to let my steps falter as I approach. Maybe I need to hold onto a little of that rage. Maybe if I just keep it inside of me, I can be ready for this and deal with the consequences.

  He doesn’t smile as I reach him or offer a hand. He simply watches me with a blank expression, which is still as attractive as it’s always been. It’s superior, very nearly condescending in its ability to make the recipient feel uneasy. It doesn’t make me feel that, though. Uneasy is never a word I could use for how I feel when he looks at me. Tempted is better.

  “It is serenity you’re searching for, Lilah. It lies between enlightenment and hopelessness. Rage will not beckon it forth,” he says quietly, gazing at my features and then looking through the opening in the woods towards his waiting car. “I would help you if I could, but this is your journey to endure.” Great. I really am on my own with this then.

  A small chuckle rumbles through me as I feel myself moving in the direction of the car, still unsure whether to take my bag and go, or slip into the car and let him take me to Rome. Although, I’ve never been to Rome, and I did say I wanted to travel, didn’t I? Where better than Rome, I suppose? I could still get away if I needed to.

  Crossing the street, I smile at the thought and fix my gaze on my rucksack in his car, looking so out of place it’s ridiculous, then glance down at my clothes, which are in dire need of changing, or throwing away if I’m going to Rome with him. Something has to give with how I feel around him. Maybe I need to be dressed better. Maybe if I get myself back into killer heels and sharp suits I can feel that shield Alexander was talking about wrapping around me.

  “I need to shop,” I snap out, turning my head to look at him as he bleeps off the car alarm and opens my door. His mouth twitches a little, but he gives me nothing that resembles a smile or agreement. I have no clue how I’m going to buy anything, but then he owes me, doesn’t he? I came here for him, and spent money I didn’t have to spend. He can fucking buy me what I need.

  The roads blur by as he drives far too fast, swerving around corners and jumping red lights. It doesn’t surprise me. What other rules does he abide by? He presumably has enough money to not give a damn about speeding tickets. That fact is proved as he actually increases his speed while driving past a police car.

  “Is there no rule you have respect for?” I ask, watching the police car not even bothering to move from where it’s positioned on the side of the road.

  “Name one you consider acceptable,” he replies, smirking a little for the first time since we argued. “Stealing. Stealing something that doesn’t belong to you is wrong.”

  “Were you so inclined when you took money from Alexander’s safe to get you here? You took it to help yourself, yes? It wasn’t yours.” Well, yes. But that’s different. I’m going to give it back. And how does he even know that? I open my mouth to protest, which is rewarded with a wider grin and a tutting noise. Bastard.

  “Okay, killing someone. Murder is a rule that should not be broken.” He laughs aloud, swinging his eyes to me, not bothering to keep them on the road. I can’t keep my smile from broadening as I watch those greens crinkle at me and feel my heart clench at the vision.

  “You are aware of who it is that you have been working for, hmm? Who you are currently sitting beside?”

  “Watch the road, for God’s sake,” I snap back, flicking my eyes to the reasonably quiet road we’re on, regardless of the fact that I could gaze into that happy face for eternity without thought to the consequences of such lunacy.

  “Why? You are so much more fascinating to gaze upon,” he says, lifting a hand to my cheek and running his thumb along my jaw. And there it is again. That damn moment of ours, hanging in the air around us and letting me glimpse the serenity he’s telling me to find. He doesn’t stop looking as the car speeds up again, purposely. He even smiles at the panicked widening of my eyes. It doesn’t make me turn away from him to look out for the possibility of other traffic, though. I just stay there, staring into emerald forests, waiting for the words that might explain more of him to me. It seems I’m still so transfixed by this thing between us that I can’t even begin to concern myself with the possibility of harm. Only harm from him. “Should I die in this second, Lilah, finding your love would be worth the price of my death.”

  My mouth parts at his words, air spilling out rather than any response. Such beautiful words, full of all those things I thought I couldn’t have with him. He’d die for me? For us? Why? Why is this so important? He has a lover—a lover he hurt because of me. I reach over to the steering wheel, linking my fingers with his to guide the damn car onwards as we still look at each other. I don’t know where to, but if he’s beside me, I’m going. We’ll go together.

  Horns blare in the background as his smile retreats to show me his serious frown, then he gently pulls our hands to his mouth, kissing mine before slowly lowering them to rest in his lap. Still paying no attention to the fact that we could very well die at any moment.

  “Look at the road again,” I say quietly, still not ready to let his eyes go but somehow knowing that I don’t have to. He’ll be here as long as I want him to be. He’ll take me forward in his own way, show me things in his own way. I’ll either let him do that or I’ll find the right words to make it happen the way I want it. “I’m not ready to die quite yet, Pascal. We have talking to do.”

  His lip twitches and he gradually turns back to watch the traffic, having increased the speed once more only to throw on the brakes and swing us onto an exit towards the centre of Berlin again.

  Wide avenues with heavy traffic slowly become small streets as we race through them. They are lined with trees and there are fewer people milling around. Building after building passes by—tall, monstrous red brick ones, imposing cream structures with eighteenth century baroque detailing, and then little back streets come into view with small winding roads barely big enough to get the car through. Surprisingly, this still doesn’t slow him down all that much. He just steers the car around the corners as if he’s spent years driving these streets. You’d think it would make me nervous, scared for my possible demise, but it doesn’t. For whatever reason, I feel safe in his hands.

  We eventually pull up outside what appears to be an old industrial unit. It has a crumbling façade of dense brown brickwork in a courtyard surrounded by smaller warehouses.

  “Where are we?” I ask, not all that bothered by the venue, simply by what might be inside. I mean, who fucking knows with this man? Could be yet another den of iniquity. I might need to prepare myselfs.

  “Shopping, hmm?” he replies, letting go of my hand for the first time, opening his door and then wandering around to open mine. Not my idea of a shopping place, but what do I know about Berlin? Perhaps this is where all German people go to get some new clothes. I get out, scanning the area for an entrance or shop frontage. “It is not my preference to sully myself with morons in inappropriate department stores. You will be quick, yes?” he says, digging out his phone and lifting it to his ear as he nods at the door in front of us. “Over there,” he continues, flicking his hand at the old door and walking away from me. It seems he expects me to go in on my own.

  It doesn’t take me long to realise why he’s brought me here. As I enter, I find the place packed to the rafters with all kinds of designer wear, and a small women practically assaults me with her presence. She’s dressed in what can only be described as vintage chic—a flowery skirt layered over another one, causing that kind of colour clash that always seems a good idea until you try it on yourself. I’m not sure what the fuck her hair is doing in its beehive come messy up do, but on her, for some odd reason, it appears to be successful. There’s nothing that distracts from her clear beauty. She has a grace about her, even in those strange clothes. She
simply radiates charm, even if it is a slightly scary one as she wanders closer, looking me over and asking, in a clipped German accent, who I’m here with. No pleasantries.

  “Pascal Van Der Br–”

  I don’t get any further with my answer. She turns and swiftly walks off down an overcrowded corridor with clothes falling from stacks as she goes by them. I’m not entirely sure what that means as I mumble the rest of his name to myself and wonder what to do next. “Come, ja?” she calls rather loudly in my direction, so I do.

  It’s beyond me how she even knows where she’s going in here, let alone how she has any idea what she’s looking for.

  “Zehn, ja?” she says as I round the corner and find her in a large room that is nothing like the rest of the building. I nod in reply, because nodding seems the only response I have to a language I don’t understand. “Oder acht.” I nod at that, too, still unsure what she’s talking about.

  The room is a pale cream colour, fitted with precise rails of clothes, all hanging beautifully in similar colour combinations with accessories to match. My kind of place. I take my coat off and smile at her as she hustles about, grabbing garments and holding them up to my skin.

  “Nein, zu dunkel,” she says, tossing a dark blue dress at the floor.

  I find myself wandering over to finger the suits, dresses and skirts. They all feel like silk, or certainly some high-end material that has no business being in a warehouse full of this other stuff. I tentatively choose colours that draw me in or that I know compliment my skin tone, sliding them around and carefully putting the ones I like in one place. By the time I turn to look at her, she’s sat down in the corner, leaving me to it and smiling back at me.