***
Liam has been pacing all day around his den. John dragged him off for a hunt early in the morning. When he came back, he cleared up the torn letter-pieces from the floor and burned them in the fireplace. He tried reading but that slowed time down. As soon as he looks at the clock on the wall, he groans in frustration.
John shows up at lunchtime and finds his brother brooding on the front porch, glaring at the sun from the shade.
“It won’t go away just because you want it to.”
“Says you,” Liam mopes.
“Yeah, you know you have a problem, dude?” John parks himself next to his brother.
“And what would that be?”
“Our Vixen has much keener senses than ours. Jarrod tells me she can hear and see things before he can, and for a hunter to admit that takes some doing.”
“Damn it! I forgot about that. She can smell from a distance too.” Liam puts his head in his hands and grumbles.
“Yeah. Good thing I’m a half-decent charming spy.”
Liam turns to his brother who is staring out in front of him with a decorously placed haughty grin.
“Look, bro, I am doing this because I love her too. It’s not for you. It’s for me.”
Liam punches his brother in the shoulder watching him topple over and yells, “Spit it out!”
“Jeesh!” John retorts. He reaches inside his jacket, producing a small collection of Jarrod’s bathroom soap.
“I bought a stash of this for you. And Margarith knows. I had to tell her, she’s a sharp woman.”
“Margarith— Of course. Was she mad?”
“Nope, she suggested the soap.”
“She didn’t! John, thank you!”
“She absolutely did. Look, we worked with the idea of dampening as many outside noises as possible in order to help Carmina relax. So… you’re not safe, but you should be ok. If you get caught, you’re on your own, brother. I want the red-head back with us - we’ll find a way bro.”
Liam doesn’t bother waiting to hear John out. He heads straight for the shower and scrub himself well and truly from head to toe. When he emerges, John pulls his face and waves in the air.
“For something that doesn’t have a scent, you reek of that half-breed.” He declares.
John leaves his brother to himself with the promise of ‘having his back’. Liam showers a few more times just to be sure and then heads quickly but cautiously towards Carmina’s cottage. Silently he watches her move through the house, lighting the candles in the windows. He is thankful for the wind playing a little havoc outside, mixing the scents. He listens intently but cannot hear anything inside and he dare not try to read her mind; she will know he’s there. Eventually he cannot stand it anymore and sneaks inside. The door is not locked and he rolls his eyes. Of course she has no reason to lock her door; she’s with family. Once inside, Liam waits quietly, listening to her heartbeat and breathing before he slowly makes his way through the little home. His keen eyes don’t miss any detail and he grins at the Moretti wolf on the windowsill.
When finds Carmina’s room, he stops in the doorway. It was hard for him not to rush over to her in that instant. She is already sleeping and her body is kicking and twisting as she fights the demons in her dreams. The candlelight glimmers over her smooth skin. She has never looked more tortured but more beautiful to him. Her wild red hair is spread over the crisp white sheets on her bed. Her heartbeat is thundering away under the stress of sleep and Liam clenches his fists when she screams his name. He aches to answer her. Her voice is filled with dread and pain and it cuts through him like a steel blade. Warring emotions continue to rattle inside him. He should never have closed the link, never have walked away from her.
How can this tiny person feel so much guilt for his wellbeing? She is the one with the threat over her life, and yet she worries over his pain. Liam listens to her dreams and sits motionless, blending with the shadows. When Carmina wakes from the dreams in a rush of anxiety, he watches her cry herself back to sleep. Liam Moretti is angry with himself and, internally, he reaches out to console Carmina.
***
I wake up and notice two things at once: I don’t feel guilty over my difficult night terrors, knowing that the family slept well, and I’m starving. I also thought I could smell Liam but put it down to my overactive imagination and the vivid dreams. I miss him so much. Pulling my new diary closer, I start writing a letter to Liam; one he will never see. I know it is schoolgirl therapy but, for now, it is what I have.
“Dear Liam,
I dreamt of you last night.
I hope you don’t hate me as much as the dream suggests.
I know I am supposed to be scared of you and, logically, I am terrified of your whole family, and mine.
But I love you so much.
I am a coward, I guess, because I cannot accept my own hand in your pain.
Your family doesn’t deserve the horror that I bring into your minds. You don’t deserve it.
Momma said that my choices should make me happy. The choice to live with my family makes me very happy, but the choice not to be with you is harder to live with.
I hope you are well. I miss you.
Your Rockflower,
Mina.
I head out for breakfast with the family and convince Lilly to take a drive with me out to the local bookshop. I need to learn things and the best way to do so is by reading everything I can get my hands on. I have ordered many books online, too, and alert Momma to the deliveries. I find the Delphi Scriptures and several others books to help me in my search for answers. Lilly leaves our details with the shop owner with a request to contact us if he finds anything relating Myth, Mythology, Demons, Vampires and other monsters. She convinces him that she’s a student in Philosophy and the subject fascinates her. We stop at the library and I find a collection of science fiction literature.
We stop at a small stall next to the road on the way home. The girl working at the stall comes across too enthusiastic and I keep wondering what it is about her that bothers me. In the car, Lilly picks up on my pensive mood.
“You noticed?” She asks.
“What?”
“The girl. She’s a gypsy girl. One like us.”
“Ah. Now I know.”
I feel annoyed and frustrated that none of this ever occurred to me before. I have lived my whole life like a bat. When I mention this to Lilly, she was quick with a logical answer.
“It’s like driving a yellow car. When you bought it you hardly saw one on the road. But now that you own one, there’s several yellow cars around you all over the damned place.” Lilly drives a yellow car. The irony! I get the sensation Lilly is not just speaking metaphorically and cannot stop the bubbling laughter.
When we get out of the car at home, it is John that greets us. He is leaning casually against the tree with his hands in his pockets. I lower my eyes away from him, while Lilly heads out directly at him to meet him with a hug. I take my time to gather my books and things and walk in the direction of my cottage. I have not revealed the speedy me yet, so I try to just walk fast and was too late to stop the slip on the last bits of ice that are left. I sprawl and watch my parcels fly ahead of me. I drop my head onto the ground with a sigh. John is there fast as lighting, holding my parcels, already gathered, out to me, but not trying to help me up.
“It serves you right for avoiding me.”
“John…”
“No. I’ve waited long enough. You didn’t break up with me so I shouldn’t be punished.” He walks towards my cottage and, upon reaching it, he pushes the door open with his foot.
“How’d you know it’s not locked?”
“Nothing around here is locked. Why would you want to lock it anyway?” He asks and dumps the parcels in the middle of the floor.
“Have you got food? I’m starving, missed lunch with both families,” he whines. I laugh and wave him over to the kitchen. We sit together eating roughly everything in the fridge.
>
“You still eating like a horse?”
“Yeah,” I wave a slice of toast at him “But at least nobody is around to bug me about it.”
“How long were you going to avoid me - us?”
“Forever.” I declare.
“You failed.”
“Clearly. But this is not an open invite, John.”
“Yeah it is.” He smirks, “Because you are going to make it one.”
“No I’m not!”
“Yeah you are. Just wait.”
I roll my eyes at him and then shoo him out the door.
While unpacking, there is a knock at the door and I answer.
“Hi, my name is John.”
I slam the door and finish my chores. Shortly after, John appears in view and draws on the window.
“Hi, my name is John and I am lonely.”
I close the curtain. When I get to the kitchen to make myself a cup of tea, the window rattles and I hear him shout, “Hiiii! My name is John and I am very, very lonely!”
I sit at the table and drink my tea, narrowing my eyes at the rattling window.
John doubles the assault by pressing on my mind, too. I can feel the mischief and mockery in his energy. I also know he is not going to stop. He does not need to sleep or rest or eat. I do. Three hours of this abuse later, and I open the door and wave him in dramatically.
“Open invitation?” he asks and I slap him solid against the shoulder.
“Yeah, you bully. But I have house rules. I sleep alone and you clean up after yourself AND re-stock what you finish. No cheating by leaving one bite behind. And John...You don’t live here. I do.” I rub my hand which is now stinging with the reminder of John’s heritage.
“Open invite accepted,” he declares and makes himself comfortable with one of my books. “Except I have one request… Mina, please have dinner with my mother and father tomorrow here at your table, in your home. They deserve that much. Please?”
I narrow my eyes at him but know that he is right. I am safe here and it would be their choice if they come or not, therefore absolving me of any guilt over their discomfort. I walk out of the room where he’s sitting and write a note to his folks. When I hand it to him, I push the link open and let him know that I am serious.
“No more requests, negotiations are closed.”
He accepts the link and the vivid clarification with a triumphant punch of his fist in the air. The gong for dinner rings out over the courtyard and we rush to the hall together. I first take a detour past the car to pick up a gift I bought for Momma from the stall. My mother is an excellent provider but she neglects her own tastes at times. The side-stall sells salted licorice, not something you pick up just anywhere. I bought the whole stack for Momma.
When I get to the dinner table, Jarrod and John are in a hearty discussion about motorcycles. Lilly pulls an ugly face and I had no choice but to relax in this lavish atmosphere. Momma dances when I hand her the treat. She sits down and nibbles away at it instead of dinner.
After dinner, I help with the chores before heading to the cottage. John walks me to the door, thanks me for the invite to his parents and salutes me with a “See ya, little Vixen.”
For a moment, I thought to lock the door but decide against it.
I sit down to write a note to Liam. My wrist is still aching; a constant reminder that he is absent.
“Dearest Liam,
Today was a good day. I found some reading material but I’m not sure how much it will help. The books do look good on the shelf though.
I did fall down again but no damage done. I need to confess the speed thing or I’m going to kill myself soon. I can’t believe how much of a difference it… you… have made in my life.
I think I may need a bigger fridge.
I also think I may murder your brother but I’m not sure yet.
I’ll probably wait till after your folks come around.
I am nervous because I’ve never spent time with them alone before and I have no idea what to feed them.
I hope your day went well.
Love always
Your Rockflower,
Mina.”
I leave the diary at the fireplace, add more wood to it and light the candles around the house, getting ready for bed. I’ll shower in the morning.
***
When Liam slips through the door, standing still and breezily, unhurriedly he lets his mind wander through the house. Carmina is sleeping but he can smell his brother all over the place.
Immediately it angers him and he has to talk himself into calm. John wouldn’t do anything stupid and is probably hatching another plan. He has no reason to be in Carmina’s home uninvited…. Did she invite him in? Stopping himself short from growling, Liam moves into the living space. It is hard not to notice the single book on the floor. Without thinking, he sits down next to it to read.
He had to swallow down the urge to go wake her up again after reading both notes a hundred times over. Eventually he gets up to see what books she bought and rolls his eyes. That nonsense won’t help her at all. Lilly told John about the old bookshop and how much Carmina loves the place. A plan forms and he smiles to himself. He will see to her education after all. Liam finds his spot in the corner and places his head in his chin, watching over Mina. It is not easy for him to see her like this, but at least he can see her. And she’s writing to him. And his folks are coming over tomorrow?
Before daybreak Liam leaves Carmina’s cottage and heads directly to the butcher with a set of clear instructions. The good thing about farmers is that they are always awake before anyone else is! He then goes home, picks up several books and head to the bookshop Lilly mentioned. He stood in front of the shop waiting for it to open and sold the books to the old man for just about nothing. The owner was highly surprised at the condition of the books and their age! But Liam makes sure that he keep his word and ONLY sell the books to Lilly or Carmina. If they don’t want it, he promises to be back and buy them back for their full market value. Pleased with himself, Liam returns home to find his brother. Seems there’s a few things they need to discuss. Perhaps a few ground rules that need pointing out.
***
I wake up with a knock at the door. It is the weekend, for goodness sake! Who would bother so early in the morning? I am a little embarrassed to find the local town butcher standing at my door. I must look a mess! He drops off a package with precise instructions for preparation. When asked how much I owe him, where it came from, why it was brought to me, he winks and says: “You, little miss, have a guardian angel. Just do what it says. You’ll be fine.”
Heading to the kitchen I stop and smell the air. I am sure it smells of Liam… or Jarrod. Ugh, maybe John. Sure enough, when I get into the kitchen, John is already sitting there with a massive grin, eating raw bacon.
“Your handy work?” I ask and he smells the package.
“No, but gosh that is prime beef!”
“I know, I can smell it all the way back to the original cow!”
John picks up the instructions and grins. “That will do Mom and Dad, oh yeah, they’ve accepted. Good choice!”
It’s too early for me to cope with John, so I do the prep work on the meat as instructed, stick it in the fridge and head back to my room with a plate full of bread and cheese.
When my phone rings an hour later, it is Lilly letting me know she’s picked up some books for me from the bookshop. I stomp through the house, wondering when I won the popularity contest.
A long drawn out whistle and I clearly hear John mutter about redheaded Vixens not being morning people.
“Get out of my head!” I snap at him.
I hear the wolf howl and the stabbing pain in my chest overshadows the ache in my arm. Gods, he sounds so close. The door slams and I know John is going for breakfast with his family.
Lilly drops the books off and announces that she and Jarrod will be away with her other family for a month, but she’s leaving the car for me in case I nee
d to get to town for something. It occurs to me that I should probably get my own car. I don’t like her car. It is obnoxiously flashy and people stare when you arrive in it. I’ll go car shopping when she gets back. She’ll love that.
I pick up the books and head to the bay window. One book is a bundle that includes the story of Ambrogio. I know this story already but it is such a beautiful piece, I have to read it again. I wonder how much the books were. They look old!
I feel a tear run over my cheek as I read the story. It sounds so sad, so loving and so dedicated. I close the book and a piece of paper falls from it. It is a drawing of a moon with clouds over it. Underneath in print it reads: Rescued and waiting to be saved. The picture is a true work of art in pencil, the details spectacular emotional creations that make you want to touch the wispy clouds. I wonder if the creator understood longing as well, as it is flowing from the image; so simple, so elegant and so utterly destructive. I place the picture in a frame and put it next to the book on the shelf. The rest of the day is quiet, peaceful and relaxing. I don’t get dressed or changed until dinnertime creeps up on me. My nerves are shattered, but I am determined to make the best of the evening ahead. I miss Lady E and Uncle Will; it will be good to see them.
Hidden Carmina Page 17
