Innocently Evil (A Kitty Bloom Novel)

by Beadsmoore, Felicity

  Nine: A Taste of Max

  I woke up with my senses heightened, but not everything was clear. I was in Sam’s arms, sitting on the cold tile floor of the shower with warm water raining slowly and softly down onto my face. The sound of the water falling on the hard tiles created a droning hum that vibrated against my skin. Beneath me, the icy floor sent shivers through my limbs and became spongy with my weight, threatening to collapse under me. In the distance, as though he were miles away, I could hear Sam repeating a mantra.

  “Come back to me, Kitty,” he whispered. “Come back to me.” His voice pounded against the inside of my skull, echoing and reverberating off every inch of me. His body, wrapped firmly and affectionately around me, felt suffocatingly tight at one moment and barely there the next.

  I tried to lift my head, from where it hung loosely beside Sam’s, but it was too heavy and a smothering darkness began to engulf my vision. Defeated and confused, I relaxed my body against the distant feeling of Sam’s. My vision focused on the floor and I watched as pink stained water scurried down the drain. I remembered the blood.

  “Wh—where’s Max,” I coughed almost silently. My voice, husky though it was, rang in my ears and stabbed at my temples.

  Sam’s body froze tight around me and then I felt him lean away. The warm hum of water stopped and my ears praised the silence. Sam’s body wrapped around mine again and he moved me slightly to look at me.

  I looked up at his quivering violet eyes and forced a small smile. “Hi,” I breathed.

  “Hi,” he answered in a relieved sigh. His fingertips touched my forehead and he stroked my hair behind my ear. That small touch filled my body with adrenalin and my heart began to race. Suddenly, I needed to get away from him. Sam must have seen something in my eyes and his grip tightened. “No, Kitty,” he said, with obvious fear in his eyes. “Focus and breathe. It’s Max’s blood doing this to you.”

  My insides screamed at me to get away, but I knew in my mind that Sam was right. It had been Max’s blood on my face and on my lips. Sam had shot Max.

  Instinctively my breathing increased rapidly and blood pounded in my ears. “Max,” I heard myself whisper. I had to get away from here, away from Sam. I had to know if Max was okay. I struggled against Sam, but he held me closer.

  “No,” he said, sternly. “Breathe. Breathe, Kitty. Everything’s all right. You’re safe. Breathe.”

  I knew Sam was right, but a part of me didn’t believe him and knew that he was wrong. Max wasn’t all right and I couldn’t be all right without Max. I fought against the strength of Sam’s arms holding me tight. I needed to get free, to find Max. I needed to know if he was okay.

  `“Kitty,” I heard Sam whisper in my ear. “Please.”

  I knew that I was losing the battle. The side of me that wanted to escape and be with Max was getting stronger with every second and each rational thought I had about being safer with Sam became deluded with doubt and confusion. As my body fought fiercely against Sam, I managed to catch his dark, violet eyes starring anxiously into mine.

  With my last sane thought I reached out to him. “Help,” I whimpered, while my body thrashed against his.

  Sam frowned down at me, painful concern making his youthful features seem tense and drawn. Suddenly his hand was on my forehead, while his other hand held my arms tight and still against my body. He held me close to him. My back was hard against his chest and my face angled towards his. I could feel his warm breath on my skin as his eyes searched for answers in mine.

  “Forgive me,” he said and leaned closer.

  I felt his lips flutter lightly across mine and my eyelids got heavy.

  Then, I was falling. Darkness clouded my vision and fear made my heart rate quicken. There was nothing around me, nothing above and nothing below. Just darkness. But, I was still falling and with every fall there has to be a landing. That scared me the most. Suddenly, a bright, white light blinded me and the falling stopped.

  When I opened my eyes again, I was no longer surrounded by nothingness. Directly up from where I lay, I could see stars twinkling brightly in the jet, black sky. Millions and millions of them blinked down at me from the clear and moonless night. I had never seen so many. With a deep breath, I ignored their beauty and glanced around me, turning my head from side to side on the ground.

  I was lying on a pale blue blanket, on a soft grassy area, in a place that I didn’t recognize. A heavy mist surrounded the clear space around me, but I could still make out the rich greenery of the forest through its smoky tendrils. I seemed to be in some sort of clearing in the woods. I forced myself to sit up and have a better look around me. The dark, fog-filled forest trapped me in from every side, but I wasn’t scared. In the crisp silence of night, I could hear the nocturnal animals scratching, screeching and rustling around, and it seemed to calm me. I pushed myself off the ground to stand up and, suddenly, I noticed what I was wearing. A long, white chemise clung tightly to my chest and then hung loosely, flowing in the light breeze, from my waist down. And I realized—I was in a dream.

  Footsteps crunching through the forest in front of me startled me from my thoughts. I peered nervously through the thick, grey mist and searched the shadows of the forest for a figure. A tall, elegantly dressed man stepped from the dark foliage with his black, top hat pulled low over his eyes. He was dressed as though he’d stepped straight from the early eighteen hundreds. He wore knee-high, black riding boots over cream trousers, a scarlet waistcoat over a white ruffled shirt with a white cravat and a long, black coat. As he strode over to me, I began to see his features more clearly. It was Max.

  He stopped in front of me, raised his hat slightly and smiled. “Boo,” he grinned.

  “You’re okay,” I said, surprised.

  He raised an eyebrow at me and frowned. “I take it you would have been happier if your boyfriend had killed me,” he answered almost scornfully.

  “No,” I said quickly, shaking my head. I realized what I’d said and coughed, then tried to correct myself. “Sam’s not my boyfriend, but he—shot you,” I said, still hearing the concern in my voice and hating it.

  Max gave me an arrogant grin and pointed to himself. “Vampire,” he said. “Remember.” He dropped his hand and crossed his arms. “Besides,” he continued, beginning to circle me, “this is a dream. Had I really wanted to, I could have come to you like this.”

  Max stopped at my side and I watched as the snow white cravat around his neck began to bulge red with blood. The thick, dark scarlet liquid flowed down his chest, turning his pure white, ruffled shirt to red. It didn’t stop until the whole left side of his chest was stuck slick to his body with crimson fluid. His skin was pale and drawn tight over his bones as he reached a hand up to his neck and pulled down the cravat to show me his wound. A large, fleshy hole had been torn straight through his left jugular. Blood spurted violently from the open gash, continuing to pour down his body, as he stared at me with sunken, amber eyes.

  He raised his now thin, white lips and bared his teeth at me in what was more of a snarl than a smile. “Somehow, the reality of the situation just isn’t as attractive as the dream,” he whispered, in a raspy voice curdled by blood.

  I looked at the sadness in his large, hollowed eyes and I couldn’t help but pity him. A part of me never wanted Max to die and never would. That part just couldn’t imagine my life being all it was supposed to be without Max in it. Tears began to pool in the corner of my eyes and I had to glance away from him and close my eyes tight to stop them.

  When I looked up again Max was back to normal. His skin had returned to its caramel brown perfection, his clothes were pristine and elegant once more, and there was not a drop of blood to be seen. His eyes were lowered and narrowed, and his jaw was clenched tight. I took a step towards him and reached a hand out to him before I could stop myself.

  Max hit my hand gently with his own and stepped away from me. “Your tears are wasted on me, Kitty,” he said, still refusing to look at me. “A
nd so is your pity.”

  A sharp pain stabbed deep into my heart at his words and I tried hard to ignore it.

  Max looked out into the misty forest and crossed his arms. “It’s funny to me that I know everything you are supposed to be and become,” he said, “and yet you surprise me.”

  Max glanced over his shoulder at me, but could only hold my gaze for a moment before he looked away once more.

  His eyes were filled with a strange, shameful curiosity that I just couldn’t seem to understand. I couldn’t think of anything I’d done to surprise him and I hadn’t meant to if I had.

  “You clearly don’t like me,” he said slowly, sounding almost dumbfounded. “Don’t want me around and for good reason, yet you still care what happens to me.” He turned around to face me, searching deep into my eyes, and shook his head softly. “You confuse me, Kitty Bloom,” he said.

  I swallowed hard and tried not to notice the desperate look of loneliness lurking in Max’s dark amber eyes. He was so serious and seemed so hopeful that my heart ached just looking at him. I knew I could help him. A part of me begged for a chance to heal that lonely hole inside of him.

  Max suddenly looked away from me again and struggled to keep his eyes focused on the ground. “I just don’t get it,” he said, cynically astonished. “You know that I’m a bastard and you obviously fear me, yet you care for me, worry for me. Why is that?”

  He shrugged his shoulders and shook his head once more in blatant confusion, and then looked up at me with questioning eyes. I opened my mouth, but couldn’t think of what to say. I wanted to tell him the truth, needed him to know that I cared, but—I couldn’t bring myself to tell him.

  “Why is that, Kitty,” Max asked again. He stalked closer to me, his mind clearly in agony and he grabbed my shoulders tightly in his hands.

  I bit my bottom lip and fought hard against voicing the answer echoing over and over in my head.

  “How can you hate someone and care about them at the same time,” he said.

  I stared at him, scared by the intensity and desperation in his eyes. The answer to his question was now obvious, but the truth frightened me. I breathed deeply and bravely bit out the words. “I don’t hate you,” I said.

  Max’s eyes widened and his grip on my shoulders softened. “What,” he whispered.

  My eyes blurred with coming tears and I could no longer hold his gaze. I dropped my head onto my chest and squeezed my eyes tightly shut. “I don’t hate you,” I said again.

  I bit my lip nervously and waited for an answer. I was sure I’d just confessed to something I shouldn’t have. There seemed to be more meaning hidden behind those four innocent words than I ever thought there would be and I was certain that Max would have noticed it too.

  “You don’t,” he said quietly.

  I risked a glance back up at his face. His eyes were hopeful, but somber.

  “I don’t,” I said again, quietly. “Even though I should.”

  A streak of pain flashed across his face and his eyes hardened slightly. Max let go of my shoulders and took a step back. “Of course, you should,” he snapped though tight lips.

  He looked away from me and pouted angrily.

  I took a quick step towards him and put my hand reassuringly on his arm. “But I don’t,” I said. “I can’t.”

  His eyes met mine again and I could see his pain through the shield of anger. I took a breath and tried to find the right words to tell him how I felt without making things worse. There was no doubt in my mind about him being a bastard, no question as to where his loyalty obviously lay. Max was born and bred into evil, it was in his nature, and it was who he was. Yet, a part of me seemed to understand the world from his perspective, seemed to see that there was more to Max than just the side he belonged to. In some ways, I felt he was like me, just another prisoner of the life we were born into. Expectations surrounded us. Ways we should act, ways we should feel, what we should become. Max seemed just as trapped as I was. And I felt for him and could understand his pain as my own.

  “I realize that I don’t know everything about you,” I began, “and that the majority of what I do know doesn’t do you any favors, but I feel that I understand you. I’m not trying to say that deep down inside I believe you’re a good person, because I’m pretty sure that isn’t true.”

  Max raised an eyebrow at that and crossed his arms.

  “Look,” I said, continuing quickly, “I might not like how you handle situations, that you tried to seduce me into becoming a mindless pet and that you threatened to kill Sam. But a part of me understands who you are and why you act the way you do. It makes me worry about you when I know I shouldn’t and makes me feel like I wouldn’t be whole without you.”

  I gritted my teeth as soon as I finished and worried that I’d said too much.

  The tense anger in Max’s face subsided and he frowned at me. I dropped my hand from his arm feeling a little bit embarrassed about confessing as much as I did. I was beginning to feel guilty too, worried that I’d betrayed Sam somehow just by saying what I had. All I knew was that I’d told Max the truth and that was all that was important to me at that moment.

  “You aren’t what I expected,” he said, suddenly.

  I narrowed my eyes at him, confused by his response. “How so,” I asked.

  His expression turned almost warm and a small smile crept over his lips. “You matter to me, too,” he said. He reached over and put his hand gently under my chin, looking almost amused by some sudden realization. “I didn’t think you would,” he said. “I thought you would just be another asset, another toy to add to my collection, but you’re not. You actually matter to me.”

  Suddenly, Max’s smile disappeared and his face screwed up in thought. He looked away from me and his lips pulled back in a sneer. “You actually matter to me,” he repeated, sounding almost disgusted. “I—care about you? What is wrong with me?”

  Max dropped his hand from under my chin and took another firmer step back. He shook his head hard in confusion. His lips formed silent words as his mind seemed to retreat loathingly away from the self he had been only a few seconds before.

  His serious, almost fierce eyes, met mine again and he seemed to stare straight through me. “I have to go,” he said, impassively.

  I opened my mouth to try to stop him, but no words came out. I wasn’t sure what to say. Max ignored my attempt entirely and turned his back to me, stalking quickly towards the mist entwined forest. I took a few stumbled steps after him and stopped, watching as his dark form disappeared into the thick, white tendrils of the fog. What had I done?

  Ten: Mother Knows Best

  I jolted awake and found myself, to my surprise, in my own purple satin, summer pajamas and in a color-coordinated room that looked all too familiar. Somehow, I’d managed to end up back at my new house. Bright, cold, early morning sunlight shone happily in from the window. A stark contrast to the loud argument I could hear going on downstairs.

  “She deserves to know,” yelled a male voice, who I was sure must have been Sam.

  As soon as I thought of him an overwhelming sense of guilt came over me. I felt as though I’d betrayed him. I remembered what I’d said to Max, what I’d let myself feel for him and I couldn’t help but dread the thought of Sam ever finding out.

  “It was only a dream,” I whispered to myself, trying to calm my thoughts and my heartbeat. But, deep down I knew it had been more than that. Max had entered my dreams like the last time. Everything I’d said to him had been real and he was sure to remember it upon waking. An icy chill wrapped coldly around my heart and I began to hate myself.

  “It is my burden just as much as hers,” shouted a female voice. “I am her mother and I have the right to decide if and when I should tell her.”

  Hearing my mum’s voice removed me from my disturbing thoughts and I started to worry more about what was happening downstairs. With my curiosity substantially peaked, I pulled myself out of bed and tiptoed, out thr
ough my open bedroom door, to the top of the stairs. I peered over the side rail, but couldn’t see anything more than a couple of shadows reflecting onto the steps at the bottom.

  “You never tell her anything,” snapped Sam. “You’re too afraid of the truth, too afraid of what would happen if she knew everything. You’re scared that she’ll leave you.”

  “Get out of my house,” screamed my mum. “I never asked for your help. We don’t need you. I can handle this on my own.”

  There was silence for a moment and I began to wonder if Sam had obeyed my Mum’s commands and left. But the continued presence of dark shadows on the steps proved I was wrong.

  “You just don’t get it do you,” asked Sam in a calmer tone. “Kitty needs to know the truth. She needs to know what you’re planning. Give her the benefit of the doubt and tell her. If she is truly your daughter, there is no reason for her to abandon you.”

  “Get—out,” said Mum, fiercely.

  Silence filled the room for a moment longer and then a shadow, matched by heavy footsteps, disappeared from the bottom of the stairs. The front door squeaked open and slammed shut. Sam was gone.

  After pausing for a second to collect my thoughts, I did the only thing I could think of. I ran down the stairs to confront my mum. By the time I’d hit the final step, she was nowhere to be seen. I knew that she was still somewhere inside, because I hadn’t heard the front door open again, but I just wasn’t sure where. A quiet sobbing sound pointed me in the direction of her studio and I found her, sitting on her painting sheet in a corner, with her head in her hands. Even though she was only in her paint splattered work clothes, she looked so fragile, so broken, nothing like the Mum I knew. Seeing her like that almost made me want to scold myself for wanting to confront her. As I stepped into the room, she glanced up at me with big, ocean blue eyes and I felt her pain.