“You shouldn’t have,” I said. “How could you possibly have known?”
Max moved his hand closer to me and gave me a saddened smile. “I have much to tell you, Kitty. If only you’d let me.”
Still confused by his words and finding it hard to focus on the intensity of his eyes, I pushed my gaze back down to the box. Taking it from his palm onto mine, I lifted off the lid. Inside was a circular pendant on a long silver chain. I’d never seen anything like it before. In the centre of the pendant was a pearl collared circle, with several small lines neatly severing it into what appeared to be the phases of the moon. Then, along the circumference of the pearl, in silver, ran an intricately carved pack of wolves. It looked so expensive – an heirloom maybe – I knew I shouldn’t accept it.
“Thank you,” I said, never taking my eyes off the pendant. “It’s magnificent.”
“If,” Max began slowly, “you would do me the honor, I wish you to wear it.” Without my answer, Max’s fingers slipped into the box and he carefully lifted the pendant out by its chain. He undid the clasp and moved in close to me. His fingertips grazed my collarbone as he brought the ends of the chain together.
I arched my neck to the side when his cheek brushed past mine as he looked to do up the clasp. Closing my eyes, I felt almost frozen. Half of me was screaming to escape and the other half would have gladly followed any orders given. I shook my head slightly in confusion, then licked my lips and opened my eyes. I straightened my head a little as I felt Max begin to move back.
His face brushed past mine again and I got goose bumps. When he was looking into my eyes once more, he felt so much closer. He looked down at the necklace and I could feel his hands slide from my neck, down the chain, and then stop at the pendant. “There,” Max said. “Very beautiful indeed.” His amber eyes came back to mine and I felt a little like a deer in headlights.
For some reason words weren’t forming sentences in my mind. Max smiled at me and seemed to move in closer again.
I jarred my head back and swallowed. “I should go,” I said, drawing on courage from screaming instinct.
Max leaned back and frowned. “Will you promise me that we will continue our discussion sometime in Saint Jean? Or shall I make arrangements to come find you?”
I wasn’t certain which suggestion was the lesser evil. Both sounded as though they would alter the course of the earth, or at least my place in it. “I promise to find you,” I said, feeling very tempted to cross my fingers behind my back.
Almost as though he sensed my caution, Max gave me a firmer stare. I smiled and hoped that I looked more innocent than scared.
“Then I shall see you soon, Kitty Bloom,” said Max. “And we shall discuss a little of our family history.” His seriousness seemed to turn light hearted at that and again he gave me a smile.
“Right,” I said slowly, worried that it wasn’t the right answer. “Thanks again for the gift.” I began to turn to face the door and thankfully Max stepped back to let me. I pressed the button to open the connecting doors and gave him one last look.
He was still smiling, all seriousness gone. “Pleasant days and peaceful nights until we meet again,” Max said.
The doors to the next carriage burst open and relief overwhelmed me at the thought of freedom.
“Yes,” I said. “Bye then.” I stepped out of Max’s train carriage without another thought and refused to let myself look back until I was safely in my own carriage.
All was well. He hadn’t followed me. I found Mum still asleep in her chair and I sat down next to her. My mind raced wildly with one conflicting thought after another. I was so confused it was starting to give me a headache. I closed my eyes and before I knew it, I was drifting through the deepest of sleeps, seeing only amber eyes and full moon pendants spinning through my dreams.
Two: The Golden Haired Boy
I woke up to the sound of a train horn and a pat on the knee from my mum. “We’re here,” she said, but here wasn’t Saint Jean.
The train had come to a stop at the main station in Cannes and was waiting, by the sound of the horn, impatiently for us to disembark and head aboard our connecting bus. I looked out the window at all the people scurrying off the carriages and onto the platform, hurrying to be the first to collect their baggage and continue their journey to Hell only cares where.
“Come on, Kitty cat,” said Mum. “Open those eyes wide and stretch those claws, it’s time to brush off your cat nap and prepare for a new adventure.”
“Ha ha,” I said, sarcastically. Then, obediently, I snatched up my bag and jacket, and followed Mum to the exit.
After a quick glance at all our luggage dumped unhappily by the side of the train, we decided to kidnap a porter from the information desk for a little extra muscle. Once all our things had been transferred from the platform into the bus’ insides, it was time to finish the final leg of the journey. Or so we thought.
“There’s more,” I said incredulously as I switched off my MP3 player and took out my earphones.
We’d just travelled uphill for the past hour and a bit, driving past million-dollar mansions and resorts in Cannes, and more recently little French country cottages and mysterious hill-side villages. But, apparently there was more, and it was all uphill.
“The buses can’t go up there, honey, the roads are too narrow,” said Mum, trying to be understanding and reasonable for the both of us.
I looked out the bus window at the steep hill we had to climb before we could gain entry into Saint Jean. It was almost seven in the evening and everything was beginning to glow warm with the colors of sunset. Still, I couldn’t help but be happy that we weren’t lugging all our belongings up the hill in total darkness.
From what I could see of Saint Jean it looked like a fortress. A huge stone wall encased the city, most likely built to keep medieval armies out, though my morbid imagination could also see their usefulness at keeping something in. At the centre of Saint Jean was a huge bell tower that rose high into the sky and seemed to me to peer ominously down at the city and its people. As my eyes examined the tall structure of the tower, I saw a dark, castle-like mansion looming up from the mountainside behind it. The building was built higher up into the mountain than the rest of the city and appeared menacing even in the pleasant pinks and oranges of the setting sun. A shiver blew gently across my body and goose bumps bubbled up over my arms. There was no denying that little, old Saint Jean was creepy. Only my Mum would ever be the kind of person to choose this as our new place of residence. Creepy, freaky places seemed to attract her.
“That’s the patron’s home,” said Mum following my gaze up to the mansion. “You’ll get to meet him tomorrow if you come with me when I sign the last of the paperwork.”
“Great,” I said, with all the enthusiasm of a mouse about to see the cat. Meeting Max’s father was definitely one of the last things on my list of things to do while in Saint Jean. I’d have to come up with a believable excuse between now and then to avoid that unfortunate pleasure.
Mum and I made our way off the bus and over to the large pile of baggage that belonged to us. Thankfully the bus driver had been kind enough to take everything out of the luggage compartment for us, but now Mum and I were stuck with the task of either finding someone to help us carry it or taking it all up the hill by ourselves.
A quick glance around proved that I was right about us being the only ones stupid enough to be moving to Saint Jean and that there was not going to be anyone to offer us a hand. The bus beside us rumbled and pulled out of its park, and then headed further up into the mountains. Now all alone, the two of us looked around sheepishly not sure what to do. By the look on Mum’s face I could tell that she was wishing for a baggage trolley, like the ones at the airport, or possibly a forklift to somehow magically appear. Anything that would make the number of trips up the hill a little fewer would have been good enough for me.
But, before we were given the chance to show how resourceful we were in
a time of need, the sound of a nearing motorcycle dragged my eyes back down to the road winding up the hill towards us. Mum took a step closer to me and I could tell that she was following my gaze. I mentally crossed my fingers and hoped that this was going to be someone heading in our direction. A sleek, jet black bike appeared from around the corner and headed straight towards us. At the last moment the driver turned the front wheel and began the steep ascent to Saint Jean. My hope for help sunk deep into my stomach as I realized that we were really going to have to carry everything by ourselves.
“Okay, that’s that then,” said Mum. “Looks like you’ll have to wait here and protect everything while I go and try to find some cavalry.”
I nodded as she slung a bag over her shoulder and bent down to pick up a box. Then, I heard another motor. Not a bike this time but a car. I looked towards the noise, at the road leading to Saint Jean. A pickup truck? The blue vehicle came grumbling down the hill, sounding very cantankerous about being used at all, and pulled to an abrupt stop in front of us.
“Looks like we might have found some cavalry after all,” muttered Mum.
Out of the driver’s side stepped a tall, perfectly muscled, golden-haired angel of a man. He turned to face us with the most boyishly-beautiful looking face and smiled. “Need some help,” he asked in a deep voice hinted slightly with an English accent.
“Oh, just a little,” Mum flirted.
He closed the truck’s door and started walking over to us. I noticed that he was wearing blue jeans, a black leather jacket and black boots. The same outfit I’d seen on the motorcyclist.
“Trading down I see. Does your bike know about the two of you,” I said, pointing to him and the truck.
He gave me a lopsided smile, which only enhanced his baby boy features and ran his fingers through his thick, shaggy fringe. “Ah, you’ve caught me,” he said. “No, she doesn’t know. This is my friend’s truck and I’ve only been with her for oh—say, a few minutes.”
“Right,” I said in an understanding tone. “A fling, then. I promise I won’t tell.”
He laughed and shook his head at me, then stuck out a hand. “My name’s Samuel Winter. But, please call me Sam. I only just moved here last week, so if you need help with anything just ask.”
I smiled, shook his hand and looked up into his eyes. They were such an unusual color it surprised me. They looked almost like violet.
“And this,” began my mum, taking my pause for awe as another, naughtier kind of pause for awe, “is my daughter Kitten.”
“Kitty,” I corrected her as I let go of Sam’s hand.
“And my name is Angelica Bloom,” said Mum, shaking his hand in turn. “So, what brought you to the artist community of Saint Jean, Sam? Passion or pleasure?”
“Well, Angelica, I think I’d have to answer, both.” Sam finished his answer looking at me.
I couldn’t help but feel a little awkward, almost paranoid, that everything lately seemed to have a hidden double meaning that I should understand. I felt like I was supposed to fill the silence with an acknowledging answer. But what, I didn’t know.
Just when I thought I couldn’t take the suspense of the silence anymore, Sam turned back to my mum and continued the conversation. “I’m a musician,” said Sam. “Although not a very good one I’ll admit. I play the Spanish guitar and I’ve been trying to find a safe place to practice and try to create a few new songs. Unfortunately, I haven’t had much luck so far. I just haven’t found the right muse.”
There it was again. He looked at me. I was beginning to hate the existence of double meanings. Especially in instances where I just didn’t get them.
“So, anyway,” I said, deciding to take control of the conversation again, “as you can see, Sam, we need a little help getting to Saint Jean before nightfall and as you mentioned before, you were happy to give us a hand. Is that little offer still good or are we going to have to wrestle you for your keys?”
“Kitty,” Mum said, probably a little outraged at me for talking like that to a stranger.
Sam laughed again and then seemed to pause to consider his options. “Well,” he said slowly, “although it would be quite an experience to be wrestled by two beautiful women, I think I’m still going to hand the keys over without a fight.”
“Good choice,” Mum said. “Bloom women always get what they want.”
One by one, we each grabbed a bag or a box and began loading up the back of the old pick-up truck. The sun soon disappeared behind the mountains behind us and the car park, the valley below us and Saint Jean all fell into the cold shadows of twilight. Before long the entire back tray and the front seat excluding the driver’s seat was full. I didn’t remember having that much stuff and neither did Mum.
“Well, at least we managed to get everything in,” said Mum, as all three of us looked over at the truck filled full to bursting.
“Yeah, except ourselves,” I said, unhappily.
“I was thinking,” said Sam. “Assuming Kitty doesn’t mind and that you drive a stick, Angelica, I’d be happy to walk with Kitty while you take the truck.”
“That’s very kind of you, Sam,” said Mum, obviously answering for the both of us. “I’d feel much better taking the truck and Kitty’s clearly a lot safer with you than with me in the dark.”
“Thanks, Mum,” I said sarcastically under my breath.
Ignoring my annoyance at how easy it was for her to leave me all alone, in the dark with a stranger, Mum snatched the keys out of Sam’s hand and popped into the driver’s seat. “Thanks again, Sam. I’ll see you both at the top,” she said, then put the key in the ignition.
The old truck roared furiously to life and made a few loud, unhealthy groans before it let Mum turn it around and drive it back up the hill.
“You’ve got to love my mother,” I mumbled and crossed my arms over my chest.
“Especially when she leaves you on your birthday,” said Sam.
I turned and glared at him. “How do you know it’s my birthday,” I asked, a little surprised and suspicious.
Sam smiled awkwardly at me and stepped closer.
I hugged my black leather jacket closer to me and stepped back. “Don’t play with me, Sam. I’ve had an odd day today and I’d really appreciate a straight answer.”
“I guess you wouldn’t believe me if I said that your mum told me,” he said, giving me an almost hopeful smile.
I shook my head.
Sam looked out into the coming darkness, at all the deep shadows swallowing up the valley below us and ran his fingers through his gorgeous, golden hair. “There’s something you need to know, Kitty,” he began. “I’m pretty sure you won’t take it well, any of it, and that you won’t understand it until something goes wrong. But, now that you’re eighteen you’re no longer immune and they—everyone knows that. Why your mum dragged you here of all places I’m still trying to find out. But, it can’t be good. That’s why I’m here with you this time. It’s time I actually start playing a proper role in your life. You need protecting, Kitty, and that’s why I’m here.”
I must have stood looking at Sam in total confusion for much longer than he’d expected, because it wasn’t long before he started trying to explain things again from another angle.
“Okay,” Sam said, beginning to pace the space in front of me. “Where can I start?” He stopped suddenly and walked closer to me again. “That guy,” he said. “The one on the train. Ah, Max something or other.”
“Tiennan,” I answered. “How did you know about him being on the train?”
“Yes, Tiennan,” he said, totally ignoring my last question. “His family have been the patrons of Saint Jean for many generations. The strange thing is that for the past three hundred years the same patron has been running the community. Max’s father. Do you understand all that?” Sam looked at me sympathetically as I tried to take it in and waited for my answer.
I had no idea how Sam could have known that I’d met Max on the train. It all
seemed a little odd to me, and I was beginning to wonder whether I should trust him. Then again, the thought of Max’s father running Saint Jean for three hundred years was definitely up there on the odd scale. Maybe it was Max who was the odd one, the one I couldn’t trust.
I shook my head and looked around out into the darkness as I tried to comprehend what Sam was saying. “I think so,” I said finally.
Suddenly, something dark caught my eye as it moved down the hill behind us and then disappeared into the forest. I tried hard to brush off the eerie feeling of being watched, but couldn’t.
Sam must have seen the shape, too, because he grabbed my arm and started dragging me up the hill towards Saint Jean. “I’m so stupid for bringing this topic up here,” Sam said under his breath, while he continued to search the darkness around us as we walked. “I know better than that.”
Feeling very much like a damsel in distress, I couldn’t help but wonder what I’d gotten myself into. Or maybe what my mum had gotten me into. I felt overwhelmingly out of the loop and I really didn’t like it. If my safety was about to be jeopardized tonight I damn well wanted to be aware of it. And now I just had to wonder why my mother was so keen to up and leave us as soon as it started to get dark. Did she know something that I didn’t?
“Sam,” I said, trying to pull my hand out of his grasp. “Please tell me what’s going on? Are we—in danger?”
“Please not now, Kitty,” he said, grabbing my hand tighter with his other hand. “Right now we have to run. When we get inside the city gates I’ll tell you, but out here anything’s fair game, even if you do have Max’s tag of ownership around your neck.” He looked down at the pendant that I had entirely forgotten I was wearing and then pulled me faster.
Innocently Evil (A Kitty Bloom Novel) Page 2
