by Jane West
A sense of hopelessness devoured my mind, my whole existence. Even though I reminded myself of Sara's illness, it didn't make her words hurt any less.
Suddenly, Sara flung the cup across the floor with mighty force. I stood there gaping incredulously. She had taken the last cherish thing of Dad's, breaking it into broken pieces.
In a frenzy, I fell to my knees, tears streaming, and I swept the ceramic shards in my palm, hoping to salvage my cherished mug.
Then unhinged anger coursed through me. I jerked my gaze up at Sara, slowly rising to my feet. “What did Dad and I ever do to deserve such loathing from you?” My fist clenched to my side.
Sara's eyes shot at me like razors. “I never wanted this life.” She clamped down on her lips and then she released her venom. “I thought Jon was wealthy. Good Gad,” she scoffed, “He went to an ivy league college, Yale, for Pete's sake!” Sara threw her arms up, enraged. “How the hell did I know he'd planned to disown his family,” she sputtered. “The son of a bitch didn't tell me until we were married.” Sara snorted a laugh. “The honeymoon from hell, no electricity, no water and no luxurious get-away. I. Hated. Him!”
“I don't understand how you can be so heartless. I feel like I've been spinning my wheels in mud. All I've ever wanted from you is your love, but you're incapable of such a human emotion. You can't see past your freaking nose. You've never been a mother to me! You love that goddamn bottle more than you love yourself!” Whether it stemmed from her mental illness or her sociopathic nature, it really didn't matter any longer. I was done.
Sara's eyes boiled with rage. “That's right! I didn't act like your mother because I'm not. We are not even blood. Oh, knock that look off your fucking face. You had to have known that I wasn't your biological mother.”
“What?” Shock rampaged over me like an avalanche. Suddenly I felt something wet on my hand. I glimpsed down, and blood was dripping from my right fist. I'd been gripping the broken pieces from the mug in my hand. I dropped the pieces to the floor, standing in a stupor, numb over Sara's mind-shattering confession.
“I didn't stutter.” Acerbity interlaced her voice.
“Did I ever know the real you?”
“I'm tired.” Sara evaded my question. “I assume you know the way out.” Her voice was empty, cold and unfeeling. She rose to her feet, a bit wobbly. “Go make a life for yourself with that young man. He actually cares about you.” Without another word, she snatched up the half-empty bottle of Jack and moved past me, heading for the stairs.
Silently I watched her drag herself upstairs. As if Sara had aged ten years in minutes, she appeared broken and withered. Funny, I'd thought of her as beautiful, with glistening blond hair and sparkling hazel eyes, full of life. Now, she seemed old and haggard.
Despite her disdain toward me, I stilled loved her. She was my mother, good or bad, blood or not.
Once I heard her bedroom door shut, I spun on my heels, raking my fingers through my damp hair. I had no clue to what I should do next. I couldn't just leave her like this.
Then it hit me. Call me crazy or stupid but the one person that came to mind was the only one who made sense. Bane!
I tugged on my cell from my pocket. I held my breath that it might not be soaked through and useless. “Oh, God!” It lit up. My hands trembled as I punched his number.
On the first ring, he answered, “Where the fuck are you?”
I swallowed hard. “I'm at my house. I need you to come here as soon as you can. Bring the angel dust.”
“What?” The phone on his end became silent.
“Just bring it!”
I heard him breathing on the other end. Then he replied. “All right, I'll be there shortly. Don't leave, do you understand me?”
“I'll wait for you, but come alone.” I sternly demanded. Then I heard a click and my phone went dead.
I collapsed to the wooden floor, drawing my knees into a fetal position. The coolness of the floor seemed to comfort me as I closed my eyes, trying to close myself off from the world. Regardless, my mind wouldn't stop. No one could help me now. Not even Ms. Noel. I had to look to Bane for the answers. If it was true that he wanted me dead, then so be it. I'd do anything to get past this nightmare.
* * *
I opened my eyes and sat up, inhaling a frayed breath. Every part of my body protested in pain. I'd fallen asleep, but it felt more like a fifth of moonshine and an ass kicking.
Straightaway, a loud banging came from the door that could have woke the dead.
I picked myself off the floor and darted for the living room. I flung the door open and there stood Bane, looking angrier than ever. He stood mountainous in a trench coat, a couple of unruly curls hung in his face, water dripping off his body. His blues were dark and menacing.
He stepped in pushing past me. With his back to me, he breaks the momentary silence. “I'm assuming the dust is for your mother.” He pulled out a small bag of glittery white powder.
My eyes dropped to the strange substance. “That's what you used on Jen and me?”
“I don't have time to argue with you. Where is Sara?” His voice was as forceful and grave as the storm.
I wrapped my arms around my waste. “Look! I just want her to forget about today.” I paused. “Francis was murdered. She's taking it hard.”
Our eyes collided. “I'm quite aware of Francis' misfortune. Wait here.” He turned to head upstairs. Quickly I wrapped my fingers around his sleeve, halting him. “I'm not letting you out of my sight around my mother!”
“Either you want this or not?” His glint reassured me his patience was threadbare.
“Sara needs to forget Francis. She can't handle another tragedy, another loss.” The knot in my throat squeezed.
“Why do you bother with her? Sara doesn't deserve your kindness.”
I struggled to keep my voice from quavering. “She's my mother. Isn't that enough?”
For what seemed forever, Bane and I stood, locked, eyes frozen on each other. Even after discovering his true intensions, and protecting the murderer of my father, my heart ached for him. How sick was that?
Bane broke our trance and started up the stairs. He tossed over his shoulder at me, “Let's get this over with before I change my mind.”
I stayed right on his heels as we both entered Sara's room. Just as I'd expected, she had passed out, laying spread out on the bed, half on, half off. I spotted the liquor bottle on the nightstand. She'd polished it off.
Bane started to make his way to Sara's side until I wrung my fingers around his coat sleeve. He spun around glaring at me. “What now,” he snapped sharply.
“How well are you up on your pharmaceuticals?” My eyes darted to the small bag of sparkles clenched in his palm. “What the hell is that stuff.” My conscience gnawed at me something fierce. I bit down on my indecisive lip.
Bane's blues were as frigid as the North Pole. “This isn't your run of the mill drug. In fact, it's not even known to mankind.”
“Apparently, though not entirely,” I hissed.
“It's a mystical component made of rare fey jewels. It's crushed into fine particles like sand or dust.”
“It looks like glitter.”
A glint of sarcasm pranced in his blues. “Princess, this isn't glitter, and it isn't a fucking fairytale either. This little bit of dust known as angel dust can wipe out an entire race. It's no toy, Love.”
“I know it will wipe a person's memories.” I shot him a baleful glare. “Can you erase her memories of Francis without killing her?” I had a sick feeling about this, but I feared if Sara didn't get any relief, she might commit suicide.
“I'll give her enough for her to sleep a few days. With the amount of liquor, she's ingested,” he nodded to the empty bottle, “The worst scenario is that she'll wake up with a hangover.”
I bit down on my bottom lip to the point of almost drawing blood. I raked my fingers through my tangles. “Okay! Do it and then get rid of that fairy-crap!”
Bane nodded. His
face void and remote as he made his way to Sara's side, I watched in silence.
There were tale-tell signs that even in Sara's sleep, she mourned deeply for her loss. I hoped the dust would give her time to heal so that when her memories returned, she might be stronger to handle the grief.
I watched as Bane carefully dropped a few sprinkles in his hand and chanted words in a strange language that I didn't recognized as he made odd hand gestures, and then gently dropped the dust over Sara's body. Though I didn't understand one word, I sensed the words impacted a strong connotation.
As soon as he finished, he was swiftly on his feet and down the stairs, heading out the door. I ran after him, yelling, “Aidan, stop!” As if my words fell upon a mute, he kept going. It wasn't until I reached his car did I catch up with him. “Stop, Du Pont! I overheard your conversation with your uncle, Van!” I was panting, rain beating my face, blurring my vision. I kept talking to his back. “If you want my life then take it!” I yelled. “I have nothing else to lose.” A dagger to the heart would've hurt less than his betrayal.
Bane pivoted on his heels, glaring as if he wanted to devour me.
“Well! What are you waiting for, here I am? Take me!” I slung my arms out.
In a millisecond, Bane charged me like a bullet. I flinched, blinking, expecting death. In one quick flash, he'd spun me into his arms.
The best way I knew how to describe what happened next was—as if scooped up into the eye of a tornado, cinched tight in Bane's arms, we spun around and around, at a speed beyond anything I'd ever experienced. I felt like Dorothy in The Wizard of Oz, minus the house.
Only You
When we came to an abrupt halt, I quickly concluded that I wasn't in the Land of Oz; instead, Bane and I were back at the fireflies' nest, or so it seemed.
The atmosphere appeared thicker, no breeze. The trees were calm, and the bugs were quiet.
Once Bane released me, I staggered backward, almost losing my balance. I would've if not for his quick reflexes, catching my elbow and steadying my feet.
My head spun in circles like Ring-Around-the-Rosy. I stammered over my words, “What-what-what-did-did-you-you do?” Immediately, my stomach roiled. Lickety-split, I ran to the nearest bush.
Bane stood by my side, gently rubbing my back, but I was still hurt and angry with him and I wanted to punish him. Instinctively, I came up, swinging. “Don't touch me!” I screeched, knocking his hand away. “You've been hiding my father's murderer from me all this time!”
“Stevie,” his face appeared torn, “Please, let me explain.”
“Why bother? Don't you have me penciled in for a beheading? My compliments to you and your precious Uncle.”
“Will you please come and have a seat with me?” His soft velvety voice sent quivers down my spine.
I opened my mouth to protest, but all at once, an eerie feeling hastened me to stop. I peeled my eyes away from Bane and combed over the trees. Something was off about this place. It was as if I'd been copied and pasted into a picture. Even the forest appeared strange and unnatural.
I spotted the fireflies flickering in and out from amidst the dark shadows of the pines. I recalled the display was spectacular and weirdly very much like last time. Lost in the moment, I observed.
Aimlessly the fireflies descended from the trees. The tiny glow-balls gathered in a line, gracefully making their way to us. How odd, I thought. Why weren't they under the trees, protected from the storm?
I gasped, realizing it wasn't raining. Did the storm pass? My eyes dropped to my feet. The soil was dry as a bone. I peered up at the cloudless sky. The stars were glistening bright. My gaze returned to Bane. “Where are we?”
“We are in another dimension.”
“Dimension,” I asked as my eyes widened.
“It is an altered reality, parallel to ours.”
“This isn't the same fireflies' nest?”
Bane shrugged. “I thought,” he smiled tightly, “It would be the safest place for us to talk.” He gently took my hand, guiding me to a soft patch of grass where a plaid, red and white blanket spread out over a patch of green.
A picnic basket filled with assorted crackers and cheese lay on the side. Right away, my eyes gravitated to a long neck bottle filled with some sort of dark drink, cherry red with two long stem glasses sitting on a tray next to it.
We seated ourselves on the blanket. Bane snatched up the bottle from its sheath of ice and uncorked it. A loud pop wafted in the still air. Very skillfully, he held the bubbled glass in his fingers and poured it half full. He handed the glass to me. I hesitated, thinking that this felt more like a dream. Then I forced a faint smile and accepted the drink. I sniffed its dark rich aroma and lifted the fine glass to my lips, taking a small sip. Its taste lingered a moment on my lips, a tartness that I didn't recognize. I peeked above the rim and caught Bane watching. I flushed slightly and said, “It's nice. Thank you.”
He smiled back. After he poured his, a long sigh followed. “Where shall I begin?” His blues looked straight through me as if he were searching for my soul.
“You could start with how we got here?”
“I suppose you might as well know.” His grave expression made me edgy. “In the world of make-believe, it's called orbing, but among the extraordinaire, it's called fading.”
“Orbing, fading, either way, what do you mean?”
“Yes. You know—now you see me, now you don't.”
“How is that even possible?”
“It's an art I have mastered for centuries.” He took a sip of his wine.
“Jesus! Centuries,” I gulped.
One corner of his lip quirked, suggesting a smile. “My lineage comes from a long line of Druids and I am immortal as well. I… hmm, don't age.”
“You've been drinking too much Kool-Aide,” I half laughed.
“You think I'm making this up,” he challenged, “Then tell me how we got here?” A gratifying glint lingered behind his eyes.
“Druids are wizards, right?” Skepticism rode hard on my back.
“You are correct.”
“Did you work your magick that day I nearly became the deer in the headlights?”
“Yes.”
“Hey, did you magically fix my car?” I didn't know why I hadn't questioned this before now.
Bane cuffed his mouth and paused, clearing his throat. “Hmm, no, I actually paid for the repairs.”
“Oh,” I bit my bottom lip, “Thank you,” I whispered and smiled.
Bane flashed his lopsided grin. “You're welcome.”
“Did you use magick on me that day I nearly tied one on with Gina?”
“Yes. I used a small smidgen of angel dust to slate your mind, momentarily.” His face remained solemn.
“The night we encountered Francis”
Bane interjected. “I was merely protecting you.”
“Why have you kept this from me?” I shook my head, frustrated.
“I carried doubt that you were ready to hear the truth.”
“Did you cast this forest and the picnic?” My eyes washed over the blanket and goodies.
“Yes.” A mischievous grin taunted his lips.
Slowly I drew in a deep breath and then eased it out. I might've looked calm on the outside, but on the inside, I felt like an erupting volcano. “How old are you?” I recalled him boasting to Van about his age.
“I'm three hundred years. Give or take.” The corner of his lip tipped upward, pushing a smile.
“That explains your weird speech,” I mumbled, letting my eyes wander over the soft glow of the fireflies. My gaze slid back to Bane. “This may sound cray-cray but, you keep talking about bloodlines. Is your bloodline tainted with the devil?”
Before answering, he laughed in a deep, jovial way. “Hmm,” he cleared his throat. “It appears that someone has been whispering in your ear. My bloodline goes back far. Hence, just as anyone, I do not have control over who my ancestors are. I will tell you this that my bloo
dline runs strong with magick. It has come in handy from time to time. Regardless of my lineage, I am grateful for my ancestors' gifts despite their inherent nature.”
“Oh, okay.” I decided I needed to get to the heart of my questions. No point in wasting any more time. “I want to know who killed my father.” I narrowed my eyes at him.
“I know you want to know about your dad's death and rightfully so. However, I'd like to know what you heard while listening in on my conversation.” Bane grabbed an apple from the basket and started tossing it back and forth, from hand to hand, his blues fixed on me.
“Oh, that!” I swallowed. “I didn't set out to snoop.”
His brow arched, “Oh really?”
I rolled my eyes. “Okay, yes. I did go snooping, but I didn't set out to listen in on your private conversation.”
Bane's blues sparkled under the soft glow of the light, a shine of suspicion. “And,” he urged.
I looked down pulling up a blade of grass, strange how it felt real under my fingers. “I know your uncle is the principal, Dr. Van. His real name is Edward Van Dunn. You both talked about an Order and the Family.”
He changed his seating position, resting his arm on his leg. “Go on. Tell me everything.” He encouraged with a stern tone.
“I heard you both refer to me as a hybrid.” I snatched up my glass of wine and hurriedly took several sips. I gently wiped my mouth with the back of my hand. “You and Van discussed my abilities.” I tugged on another blade of grass, hiding my eyes under my lashes. “You claimed your urges were growing stronger and you didn't know how much longer you could refrain yourself.” Coming clean with that little hot fact pretty much torched my face.
I got the impression Bane was hiding a wide grin as he dropped his chin, slightly nodding complacently.
“I overheard you say it was me who blew up the girl's restroom,” I recalled how we landed unharmed in the football stadium. “I know your uncle wants you to dispose of my mom. Van called her a vessel, whatever that means.” I grabbed my glass and polished off the drink. “It seems death knocks at my door a lot. Not in the natural sense, first my father's death, then Charles, a boyfriend of Sara's, and last but not least, Francis.” I looked at him full of skepticism. “I suspect it might've been someone in the Family.”
