by Amy Cook
“Leave? Oh, I'm leaving, all right, but I'm not leaving with you,” Amiel growled.
“Very well, then you may stay in a separate car on the train, if you are going to cause such a fuss.” Malinda sniffed, obviously ignoring the real message behind her daughter’s words. “No need to pack anything,” she added in disgust. “You have plenty of much better things at home. As it is, we will have to delouse you before you step foot in the house. We'd just have to burn anything you brought back, at any rate.”
Amiel opened her mouth to reply as she shoved out the door at the bottom of the stairwell, but quickly snapped it shut. A potent, stinging, astringent-like scent hung heavily on the brisk evening air, taunting Amiel’s gag reflex. She hated that smell. It was the scent Cleans used on areas that an infected had died on, in hopes of destroying any infection that might be left behind after burning the body. She glanced toward the right at the blackened area, where nothing remained of the body that had been incinerated and then doused with the cleaner. The scent left Amiel’s nose feeling raw and completely useless. That stuff was harsh on sensitive senses. Malinda sniffed daintily into a handkerchief.
“Very classy place you live in, Amiel. Rabids getting right up near the door before they are taken down.” Her nose wrinkled in disgust. “Filthy savages.”
Amiel stared at the spot a moment longer before tearing away her gaze. She didn’t want to admit it, but it was surprising a Rabid had made it this far into the complex. That had never happened before, at least not since she moved in. She glanced toward the front gates, wondering just how the infected had managed to get inside. Malinda’s renewed attempt at capturing her wrist snapped Amiel out of her internal musings. Spinning out of reach, Amiel headed for her bike, picking back up where she left off in her battle defense against her mother, the infected momentarily forgotten.
“I'm not going anywhere with you, and you're not burning any of my stuff.”
Her heart pounded harder in her chest as her eyes fell on her mother’s large, black, armored sedan at the gate. Would her mother force her to go back? Set her goons on her? Was Geno here? The thought sent a tremor down her spine, before she forced some strength back into it. They'd have a surprise or two coming their way if they tried to force her into that car. She might not be able to kill them, and she might end up with a serious nosebleed and headache, but she could still hand them their man bits on a plate, thanks to Harley's training.
“Oh yes, I promise you, we will be burning everything. And we'll start with that travesty you are currently wearing.” Malinda motioned to her outfit, and Amiel stiffened in anger. She would never admit it out loud, but she had spent an entire week’s salary on this outfit. Salary from a job she didn’t have anymore. Aside from that, she was wearing the leathers that Tandy had given her when she left home, and she wasn’t about to let Malinda near any of it. She zipped the jacket up tightly, body coiling for a fight.
“Oh, please, child. That zipper won’t keep me from burning the whole outfit. I’ll cut it off you, if I must. Honestly, Amiel, you look like a common street whore in such clothing. Tell me you haven’t stooped to whoring yourself out to pay rent.” She tsked in disgust, eyes shifting to the bike behind her.
“And that thing.” She shuddered. “Only the worst scum ride about on the backs of those beasts. I am ashamed of you.” She paused, a black cloud of hate moving across her eyes. “I suppose it shouldn't surprise me. You are Warwick's daughter, after all.”
Amiel clenched her teeth. She had no idea what being Warwick’s daughter had to do with “whoring herself out” and being “the worst scum”, but Amiel was done listening to her mother’s tirade. Her father might never have had the nerve to stick up for himself, but Amiel was strong now. She’d stick up for the both of them.
“Leave Daddy out of this! The only whore in this family is you!”
Malinda couldn't have appeared more shocked if Amiel had slapped her. “Don't you dare talk to me that way, Amiel. You disrespected me at the hospital, in our home, and by going behind my back on this foolhardy bid for selfish independence. I have humored your temper tantrums thus far, but I will suffer you no longer!”
“I give respect where respect is due, Mother. Should you have chosen to behave in a more amiable manner, I might have given you the respect you so haughtily demand. I would have given you anything in the world, just to feel for one moment that you loved me. But I’m afraid that is too much to ask. Have you ever loved anyone? I don’t think you are capable of such a thing. Instead, you demoralize, abuse, and destroy all that is good and worthy in your path. Those worthy of my respect earn it through their admirable behavior and actions. You have been cruel in every aspect of my life, hated any person that I ever showed affection toward, and treated them cruelly.” Amiel’s eyes narrowed. “Even killed them.”
“Some of us are not afraid to do what is necessary in life.” Malinda’s eyes glimmered, a dark flicker of devious pleasure in their depths. And that was the only answer Amiel needed. Malinda knew that Amiel was aware of Jeller’s death, she knew that it hurt her, and she loved it. Her mother was indeed a cold-hearted killer. Amiel’s lip curled.
“You disgust me. I will never respect you.”
“Insolent, disobedient wretch! I will not allow you to make a fool of me again. When we return home, I expect this behavior to be demolished. I will be shown respect and compliance, even if I have to have Geno spank it out of you!”
The tags suddenly tingled, letting her know that Harley was near. That meant soon he would be able to feel her distress and come to her aid. And the last thing Amiel wanted was for the two forces of nature in her life to meet one another. She needed to end this meeting, and fast. Gathering as much calm within herself as possible, Amiel held her head high.
“I am never returning to your house, and your lap dog will never lay a single finger on me again. You have lost your power over me, Malinda. I’ve made my choices. Whether you choose to accept them or not is a burden on your soul, not mine. I suggest you leave. Now.”
“You know your brother chose the same path you are walking now: the path of rebellion. I tried my best, but hardheaded as he was, I could not keep him from joining the ranks in the military. I have found that, with children, you must pick and choose your battles.”
“Don't pretend to be motherly. It doesn't suit you,” Amiel replied venomously. Malinda eyed her shrewdly.
“Look at you. So much potential, wasted! Not an ounce of ladylike mannerisms to be found. You’re pathetic. It vexes me beyond comparison to think of all those wasted years, the great lengths I went to in grooming you, only to see it tossed into the gutter.”
Amiel wanted so badly to lash out, to hurt her mother in any way she could. Yet she fought to maintain control, refusing to act on her instinct’s thirst for violence in this instance. Her silence seemed to only further infuriate Malinda. Her whole frame quaked under repressed fury. Amiel nearly grinned. She’d never seen her mother so worked up in her life. Malinda wasn’t used to not getting her way. But when it came to her daughter, she was going to have to learn, because Amiel would never bow to her again.
“Enough of this. We’re leaving now.” Malinda tried once more.
“No. You're leaving. And I never want to see your face again.” Amiel was silently proud of how strong and steady her voice sounded, and even more emboldened by the knowledge reflected in her mother's eyes. Malinda now knew her daughter was no longer pliant to her will, and she had no idea what to do about that fact. Clearly, she hadn’t thought Amiel would put up a fight, or she would have brought Geno along with her. Malinda had underestimated her. In a world she had become accustomed to winning in, Malinda had no idea how to accept a loss. As always, the emotions swiftly disappeared from her eyes, replaced with a vengeful hatred.
“So that is your choice, then?” Seeing her only remaining child’s steady, silent response, Malinda glowered. “You do, of course, realize this means you are out of the inheritance, and
hereby disowned.”
“I consider it a privilege.” A mad sort of grin fought the corners of her lips.
“The world was at your fingertips, a world of privilege in return for simple compliance. Instead, you throw it to the wind. And for what?”
Amiel did grin this time. She wasn’t giving up the world. She was welcoming it with open arms. Malinda released a harsh breath of anger, tugged down on her blazer’s shirttails and tossed back her hair, eyes clenching closed. After a moment’s space, Malinda opened her eyes, a collected woman with the devil in her gaze.
“Very well, then. But do remember one thing, Amiel. You know by now that I never lose a war. Enjoy your momentary reprieve while it lasts. I promise it won’t be long.” Malinda offered a condescending grin before climbing into the car. Amiel watched the car pull away, watched until it was just a black speck in the distance.
“You suck!” she shouted, half-heartedly, knowing the car was too far away now for her juvenile response to be heard. She had finally done it. She had stood up against her mother, just like Jaron had always wanted her to. Just like her father had never been able to. She should feel relieved and proud. In a small way, she did. Yet a huge part of her simply felt lost, the heavy shroud of impending doom looming over her shoulders. Malinda Hilden did not make threats that she did not intend to keep.
Harley’s motorcycle pulled into the gates at that moment, and Amiel sighed in relief. At least she had managed to avoid dragging Harley down with her. One disaster averted. She stepped close to Harley as he stopped the bike, eager to be near his warm, comforting presence.
“Everythin’ okay, Thumbelina?” Harley looked around, suspicion in his eyes, surveying every corner for shadows. He’d sensed the distraught emotions in their connection, apparently, and was now searching for the hidden enemy. One sniff of the air had his eyes lighting with recognition. Amiel’s hand in his, he approached the blackened spot on the ground near the apartment doors. He turned, shouting at one of the guards. Hesitantly, Don approached, warily eyeing Harley’s thunderous glare.
“An infected was inside. Near the door,” Harley accused.
“Yes.” Don shifted uncomfortably. “This is the first infiltration we’ve had in five years. I assure you it won’t happen again.” With that, the man spun on his heel and headed back to the relative safety of his guard box. Clearly, from Harley’s glower, he wanted more answers from the retreating man. Yet he made no move to stop him, turning to pull Amiel closer instead.
“You okay, kid? Did ya fight it?”
Amiel shook her head, leaning into his strong arms and reveling in the calm of his scent. “No, I was inside.”
“You’re shakin’, and I can smell somethin’ in your scent…,” he mumbled, an edge of worry in his tone. She grinned as he tried to sniff the air and muttered a curse of frustration. “Doggone cleaner’s screwin’ up my nose. Can’t get a clear read on anythin’.” His eyes turned to her for the answers his nose couldn’t offer. Amiel released a heavy breath, readying herself to plunge in. She wasn’t going to lie to him.
“My mother found me. She was here just before you.”
Harley relaxed his shoulders, relieved that there was no imminent attack. His eyes grew less dangerous, and more concerned.
“You’re worried about it?”
“My mother is… complicated. She’s vengeful and not used to being denied what she wants. I’ve never denied her before.”
“Denied her? Sounds like she’s a dictator or somethin’.” Harley chuckled, though his eyes watched her reactions carefully.
“She is, was, the dictator of my life. I dressed exactly how she told me, wore my hair and makeup how she wanted it. I never stepped out of line once.” She paused, taking a step back from his arms. She felt the need to distance herself from his grasp while she admitted the next ghosts of her past. She didn’t think she’d have the courage to admit it, otherwise.
“You know how you said you had no experience with women?”
He nodded slowly.
“Well, I’ve got enough relationship experience to last the both of us a lifetime.”
He went very still, watching her closely as tears welled in her eyes.
“For years, I went on a date every other night with some jerk she picked out for me. I was the perfect little slave. I dressed how they wanted me to, kissed every single one of them like I was told to. She said it was my way of thanking them for wasting their time on me; that it gave them some incentive to marry me when I turned nineteen. That, of course, would result in more money and power for her. If I didn’t kiss them whenever they wanted it… well, we’ll just say the punishment I’d face at home was worth enduring a thousand horrid kisses.”
Harley’s eyes turned stormy. She rushed on in an effort to get it all out before she lost her nerve.
“She had them all lined up, trying to decide who would best suit her monetary needs and ambitions for power. She wasn’t pushing me to have sex with them yet, because she hadn’t found the one she wanted me to pursue to the altar. I think she was very close to finding her match, though. She was always schmoozing with three particular families, and my dates with their sons were becoming more frequent. It was only a matter of time before she told me to start offering more than kisses. And honestly… if everything hadn’t happened with Jaron and the tags… I don’t know if I would have had enough courage to tell her no.”
Amiel bit her lip, staring at the zipper of his jacket. She hated how cowardly she once was. During her time in Dallas, she hadn’t truly realized how far she’d come. Now, looking back at her old life, facing the reality of who she once was, the person she would no doubt have become if she hadn’t left when she did… it was staggering. But would her growth now make up for her past? Harley took a step closer, anger rolling off him in waves.
“Your mama put ya in danger like that? All for a chance at money and power?”
Amiel froze. She’d never thought of it that way before. The money and power, yes, but never the danger. She wasn’t sure how she’d never thought of it. Only that it must have been the naivete of her upbringing that kept her from realizing the full danger. The only danger she’d sensed was knowing she’d end up married to a man she quite likely hated: a slave to the end.
She’d never considered the dangers of infection through kissing. Surely Malinda had been fastidious about ensuring the men weren’t infected before taking her out? Amiel reached behind her back, grabbing a length of hair and twisting it. The truth was, after Jeller, she really had no idea what her mother was capable of. She liked to think at the very least Malinda wouldn’t have risked destroying the precious family name, nor the pawn in her bargaining games. Would she? Amiel shook her head. None of that mattered now. All that mattered to her in the world was standing before her. And she was terrified of what his opinion of her was.
“I’m sorry.” Her whispered words hung heavily in the air.
“Sorry? For what?” Harley asked, confusion crunching his brow.
“I should have told you sooner, about my past. That part of my life, the old me, it just feels so foreign now. I was a different person then. But I wouldn’t blame you if you wanted to run for the hills.”
Harley stepped forward, instantly pulling her into his arms.
“I ain’t worried about that, kid. I’ve never asked ya about your past; hell, I’ve never even asked ya what your last name is. But that ain’t because I don’t care. It’s because it wouldn’t change an ounce of what I feel for ya. I’ve always figured that someday you’ll feel comfortable enough to tell me everythin’, but until then I ain’t gonna push ya for it. Names don’t make a person.” He pulled back enough to lift her chin, his arctic eyes devouring her.
“Everybody’s got a past, kid, and most of ’em ain’t pretty. But it’s our pasts that take us down the road to bein’ who we are today. And I like who ya are. I can’t be angry at yesterday for makin’ ya the better version of yourself today. If I’m angry at anythin�
��, it’s the way your mama treated ya. You were just a prisoner in your own kind of war, then. And as far as I’m concerned, none of them kisses count.”
“Really?” She looked up at him, hopeful. It had to be too good to be true. How could one man be so wonderful and forgiving, understanding? He nodded, sincerity reflecting toward her through the bond.
“Really. Unless, of course, you wanna count ’em?” His soft smile took on an air of mischief.
“No!” She shuddered. “No way! It was like making out with one giant, grabby, slimy octopus after another. Your kisses have all but wiped the trauma of their memories from my head. Thanks for that.”
He offered a cocky grin, resting his forehead on hers. “You’re still worried about somethin’. I can feel it,” he murmured.
“Now that she has found me, she won’t hesitate to keep bullying me toward her whims.”
Harley nodded, looking toward the gate, worry creasing his brow. Amiel put a hand to his cheek, drawing his attention.
“But I’m more afraid about what she’ll try to do to you.”
“Me?” Harley asked in surprise. “Maybe she’ll like me.” Harley winked.
“She’s dangerous. More dangerous than I once thought. She’s killed people. Literally.”
Harley’s brow creased, eyes flaring with protective darkness.
“I always knew she was a bully and a terrible person, but a friend who came to visit me while you were gone confirmed worse. His name is Alexander Greysen, a soldier that was friends with my brother. He checks up on me once in a while.”
Harley’s eyes sharpened. “Greysen; I’ve heard that name before. There’re times we run into soldiers on our own missions. If words speak true, he’s a good guy.”
“He is. He came to town so I wouldn’t be alone on Jaron’s birthday.”
Harley’s eyes took on a hint of regret, and guilt filtered through the bond.
“Don’t feel guilty about not being there. You were doing something much more important, and you didn’t even know about the date’s importance.”
