Lies That Blind

by Diana Rose Wilson

  She bit her tongue but her words would not stop. Compelled somehow, she spilled everything about Dave. Her whole body trembled as she vomited up the story of her humiliation.

  Stripped bare, her defenses were scattered. Now she could see it. Like a rusted harpoon shoved through her guts. It was stuck in her. All of it.

  Like the dream-raven pulling thorns from her palm, he yanked this horrible barbed thing from her soul. She felt shattered as the barbs tore free. Instead of blood, there were tears. Oceans of them. She cried for Frank and Ellen. She sobbed for her lost childhood and at the end, the most important piece, she wept for the loss of Amy.

  At last, she grieved for Amy.

  “Easy, little one,” Mambo whispered. “You are not broken. You are pure fire.” Quiet pride filled his words. Only when he pressed a soft handkerchief to her fingers did she realize he held her. He kept her safe as she sobbed herself out on his leather jacket.

  She felt protected. Like she had survived a lifetime of storms at sea and finally reached this safe harbor. This was home. Family. Blood did call to blood. It had been calling her so long, but she was too numb and deaf to answer.

  Intuition shared her relief, a fire kindling in her newly exposed underbelly. Safe. She was safe and stranger yet, she was loved.

  “Of course, that imbecile couldn’t handle you. When I see him, we will have a long talk while the fool picks up every godless tooth I knock from his head.” He swore the oath with frightening sincerity.

  “I shouldn’t have told you—” she began but he chuckled.

  “I didn’t give you much choice. You are a vault, but you don’t have to be with me. Things are moving fast and it’s my responsibility to take care of you until you come into your own. You are not quite there yet.”

  She pulled away, using the cloth to wipe away her tears. She rarely cried and never like that. Her eyes felt gummy, her throat raw. “I swore not to tell. What sort of secret keeper am I?”

  “You are fine,” he said, releasing her, and he watched with eyes still full of anger. “You are my priority. Not these bigoted, near-sighted assholes. I needed to know what’s happening.”

  She held up her hand, thrusting the palm at him accusingly. “Who are you? I don’t mean a name or smart-ass comeback because we can do that all day long. What is your connection with me?”

  He took her hand in his. The contact didn’t feel like Christopher’s but it was intense in another way. His affection for her was fiercely protective, paternal and reverent. “I am so sorry,” he said, sounding anguished as he pressed her palm to his forehead. “Fucking Ellen. Fucking dirty cunt.” The venom in his words was a potent, frightening thing.

  “Regret is fruitless.” She quoted Intuition and felt a stab of satisfaction when his head jerked up and he stared at her.

  “This is complicated,” he sighed.

  “Great. I’m really good keeping up. I’m smart like that.”

  He wasn’t swayed. “It isn’t a conversation for this place and time. I will say that I have been Amy’s champion for over twenty-five years.”

  Frankie’s cheeks warmed as she stared at him, trying not to think about Hot Wings, but she couldn’t help herself. The long golden hair and the cocky smile were so much like the stained artwork. “Oh, God,” she whispered. “You and Amy were… You two were—”

  Uncle Hot Wings.

  He regarded her as though she just departed from her senses. “Fucking?” he asked, voice flat.

  “Oh, God!” She covered her eyes.

  “No. In fact, my oath to protect Amy and her…chosen agent…supersedes my own sexuality and desires.”

  The swell of relief was followed by the hallow realization. This man had put his life on hold for Amy and now for her. “Can’t I release you? Cut you lose or something?”

  He shrugged. “I don’t care,” he murmured. “My life is fine. It is all I’ve known. I don’t miss what I’ve never had. It gives me a singular focus. There is too much for me to do.”

  “Like what?”

  “Just the very tiptop of the stack? Finding out who broke up this bar. Are they the same ones who are fighting in the street? These knives are dangerous for both the people making and using them, and the people they are hurting.

  “People bold enough to use their abilities in the open are completely unheard of. It puts us all at risk of discovery. Joey Bayle was a normal person without talent, so what he did is an aberration. Like the knives. Someone taught him those things and it can’t be good. He couldn’t have learned it on his own.”

  “Why not? I did?”

  “You are special. There are more unicorns in the world than people like you.” Pride filled his voice.

  “Are there really unicorns?” she asked, not sure she could take more bombshells.

  He didn’t answer about unicorns. “I’m sorry for my part in this deception but you must wait a little longer. There’s so much more we need to talk about, but right now I must speak with Delphine.”

  She could tell by his expression that the conversation was over. That singular focus of his was directed toward objectives he needed to complete. Those things did not include educating her.

  “So, what now? I can’t let you pay for the whole bar being repaired.”

  “Ah, but you can. This is only a fraction of what you are entitled to.”

  “But, I’ve already received too much,” she whispered. “I don’t deserve these things.”

  “Stop. You are deserving of everything.” He searched her eyes and she could feel him trying to convey something. Something she couldn’t possibly fathom. The frustration of not being told everything gnawed at her.

  “You’re an asshole.”

  “I am a horrible person,” he agreed without apology and stood. “Sebastian is here. The eldest Harris-Wallace brat is helping with your education? You can always call on me or Delphine or—”

  “Right, because you’re such an open book.”

  He bared his teeth in a feral grin. “Mouse, just take things slow. Walking comes before running. I know this is hard for you to remember.” Without waiting for her curses or questions, he strolled out of the office.

  Chapter 22

  Tokens

  More people filled the bar when Frankie trailed in behind Mambo. Her restaurant staff was there minus Joey and in addition there were Sebastian, Vanessa and Derek. Everyone turned to look at her as she came out.

  Vanessa’s black hair was pulled up and pinned with little golden combs to keep it off her neck. She wore cut-off shorts and a white tank top with some equestrian logo stretched over the bust. She rushed Frankie and threw her arms around her for a fierce hug.

  “Frankieeee!” she let out her happy cry as she crashed into her, almost knocking her off her feet.

  “Stop Tiggering her, Vanny.” Derek snickered. He looked as pretty as Frankie remembered from the wake. From the product in his hair down to the sharp leather shoes, he looked polished, like he wanted to impress someone.

  Vanessa giggled and kissed her soundly on the cheek. “Sorry.” She didn’t look apologetic as she stepped away. Frankie felt like she’d been pounced. It was actually a pleasant sensation, not being constantly afraid of hurting someone.

  “Princess,” Mambo drawled as he wandered past them. “Exuberant as ever.”

  “Mambo,” Vanessa huffed and put herself between Frankie and the little man. “What are you doing to our Frankie? I heard you did that chin thing to her. That is mean.”

  “A quick education. I didn’t put those marks on her fucking face.”

  “Language, Mambo!” Vanessa scolded.

  Mambo smirked and pressed his fist to his chest. “Mercy. We need to go and speak with your Grammy.” To Frankie, he said, “Here.” He dug in his pocket and set something wrapped in a red kerchief on the bar.

  She didn’t touch it until he snorted. The derision made her pull the bundle closer. Inside was a beautiful dagger. The antique weapon had a jeweled handle and
the simple blade was honed to a fine edge. It vibrated so hard in her fingers, she had to set it down. Unlike the cold knives, this one was different. It sang. It sounded sweet, as though it too shared blood with her.

  He met her gaze, his expression stone and steel as he gave a small nod. “I always have your back.” He turned and stalked out of the room taking the work crew with him.

  They left their tokens on the bar on the way out. They were wood and stone, carved in variations of men riding motorcycles, except for Chaze. He placed the plastic toy and grinned down at her meaningfully. “Welton. I swear by the blood of my father and my father’s father, to watch over and protect you.” The words were a darkly snarled oath that did not match the ridiculous toy.

  “Chaze, that’s cheating,” Vanessa called after him. “That’s from Lion King. That’s a plastic hyena. You jerk face.” But Chaze only cackled an ugly, raucous laugh as he sauntered out.

  Sebastian chuckled and shook his head from where he remained working on installing the last shelf. He looked remarkably improved from the wake. His beard was trimmed, his hair braided in a long tail down his back. The haunted look no longer filled his green gaze. He too wore the jacket with matching patch across the broad shoulders.

  Fallen Angels.

  “What in the world?” Frankie whispered, and she picked up the little toy. It sparked hot at her touch and made her fingers tingle with the strength infused energies. Like the golden knight, she could feel the care and time spent investing on the little figurine. Silly as it was. “Have to admit, they have the same eyes,” she said. And teeth, she didn’t say.

  “You have no idea,” Sebastian answered, shaking his head.

  She opened her mouth to ask but then closed it. spirit-beast hyena? Could they even do that? Her skin prickled. Oh yes, they could. Thank God, he was on her side.

  Sebastian smiled at her. “He’s good people.” When he got the shelf fastened, he walked over to her and set a box on the bar. “I should catch up with them. I’m really sorry for how I behaved at Amy’s celebration of life. It won’t happen again.” He inclined his head and pressed his knuckles to his chest. “I’m with you, Welton. For anything.”

  He left before she could open the box to see what he’d given her. Inside she found a small figurine of a Harley, gleaming chrome and black with traditional orange accents.

  “Well, since it’s gift-giving time, here is mine.” Juan chuckled and set his own small box down before her, tapping the top of it.

  Inside was a colorful Aztec-style pyramid with an intricate inlay of turquoise and coral. She opened her mouth to protest but Juan shook his head.

  “Just put it up by the Patron once we get these shelves stocked. It’ll be fine.” He winked and pointed from the token to Frankie and then laid his fist to his chest with a cheerful smile.

  Sophia smiled warmly at her. “Mine next.” She set the box before her. Frankie found a bright pink horse figurine tacked in lighter pink war armor. The chess piece even had twinkling pink gems for eyes. It looked like something Barbie might ride into battle.

  Juan teased, “Why does yours look like My Little Pony?”

  “Sh’up you,” Sophia answered and poked at his side until he drew back. “Pink is the only color that matters.”

  Vivianne watched all of this with a tight-jawed expression. She didn’t offer any response or a token and she didn’t make any sort of excuse for it. Instead, she regarded Frankie as though daring her to comment.

  What the fuck was Frankie supposed to do? The etiquette for this particular situation went right over her head. Should it matter? Frankie didn’t care but Sophia and Juan acted as though they expected Frankie to call the woman out on it.

  Oliver was too busy talking to Vanessa, but it only took a glance for Frankie to see how uncomfortable the young woman was.

  “Is that a new necklace?” Oliver asked quietly, reaching out to try to touch it. There was something unsavory about the way he leaned in close to the woman. The hungry look in his eyes and the way he wet his lips made Frankie’s jaw tighten.

  “This was a gift from Amy.” Vanessa’s smile looked adorable with the dimples she shared with her brother. She put a hand over the necklace, which also covered her cleavage.

  There was an awkward moment while Oliver stared at Vanessa like his black eyes wanted to consume her. His fingers traced over the back of her hand and Vanessa’s beautiful smile melted away.

  Frankie knew that sensation all too well. It had been her constant reminder of her danger her whole life before coming here.

  “It’s almost as lovely as you are, Vanny,” Oliver whispered, his smile more of a leer.

  Derek interrupted his friend. “Hey, man. Are you going to the game next weekend?” He sounded so cheerful, as though he had not noticed his sister looked as though she wanted to vomit everywhere.

  Frankie maneuvered the girl out of grope range and put her larger body between them. Vanessa tucked swiftly against her side. Her warm face pressed into her shoulder. A shiver of revulsion ran through the girl.

  “Thank you,” Vanessa whispered when Derek had properly distracted his friend with sports.

  “Yeah, been there. Nails on chalkboard, right?” Frankie guessed.

  “Yeah.” Vanessa licked her lips, looking uncomfortable. “How did you—?” She blinked and squinted at her, looking into her eyes. But Frankie kept up her wall. This wasn’t the time or place for revelations.

  “I used to feel like that with everyone who tried to touch me,” Frankie explained.

  The girl let out a thoughtful murmur of sympathy and continued to regard Frankie and her barrier before finally giving up. Her smile returned with force. “Okay. Now you have my token, okay? Open it.” She thrust the little box at Frankie.

  Inside, she found a cut-crystal figurine of a horse rearing up on hind legs. The facets glinted amber and gold in the light. When her fingers brushed against it she felt its warmth spread through her hand and along her palm. “Wow, this is amazing.”

  Vanessa squeezed her in a tight hug. “Anything for you, sis,” she said brightly and offered a wink. “I’m so happy. We should go horseback riding soon, okay?”

  “I don’t know how to ride.” At Vanessa’s expression of shock, she sighed. “I know. I was raised by savages.”

  “But you need to learn. Okay? Please? Do you want to learn English or Western? Christopher, Alexander and I ride English, Derek and Kenneth ride Western because they think it’s so cool.”

  “It is cool,” Derek shouted back and grinned over his shoulder. “And don’t forget you used to be into Western riding too, Miss Barrel Racer.”

  “I kind of did.” Vanessa giggled to Frankie. “But it was a long time ago,” she called back at her brother, sticking out her tongue.

  “You always looked sexy in the rodeo queen outfit,” Oliver said.

  Vanessa’s smile was kind. “Thank you, Oli.” A blush warmed her cheeks as she nibbled against her lower lip. She ducked her attention away from the man’s hungry eyes.

  Frankie was considering Derek, though. The young man cheerfully distracted his friend from his sister without making it seem awkward or obvious. Not discouraging him, but covertly angling the other man away. In his sharp, stylish clothes he looked as far from a cowboy as she could have imagined.

  “He was state champion in high school. Oh, Christopher is going to be so jealous,” Vanessa teased and nudged Frankie, who found herself smiling back.

  “Actually, I’m thinking of my friend in New York who has been hassling me for pictures of cowboys. She wants the traditional chaps and hat though.”

  “And nothing else?” Vanessa asked innocently, eyes wide, her playful smile tugging her dimples deeper.

  Frankie covered her eyes as she laughed. “Vanessa. Jeans at the very least.”

  “And a big belt buckle?” Derek asked, grinning. Hooking his thumbs into his belt, he playfully swaggered back to the bar. “Vanny, what are you saying?”


  “Frankie wants nudie pictures of you to send to her friend.”

  “Frankie,” Derek playfully scolded. “I don’t send pictures of my junk to strangers.”

  “Yes, but he will send it to anyone he knows,” Vanessa teased, using Frankie as a shield against her brother. She squealed when he came forward to get to her.

  “All right you two.” Frankie started to edge away and found Oliver right there trying to wedge in close to Vanessa. His greedy eyes were focused on the beautiful woman.

  “We should get going before I get talked into beefcake pictures. Here, Frankie.” Derek winked at her, blushing furiously. He offered the box matching the one his sister had given her.

  “Oh, there will be beefcake pictures,” Vanessa whispered to Frankie. “You are selfish, Derek. Think of the joy you would be bringing someone.”

  “Some stranger in New York? What’s in it for me?”

  “Maybe she’s cute.”

  “Oh, she’s cute all right,” Frankie assured Derek, which only fueled the teasing between sister and brother. They continued their playful banter while Frankie opened the box.

  Inside was a hand carved, wooden horse. It was simple but beautiful, and the detailing every bit a Western horse. The strangest sensation prickled along her neck, and she could have sworn she heard Jen’s bright, clear laughter.

  She jerked up her head and glanced at the door, half expecting her friend to come waltzing in. Derek did the same thing, twisting away as he looked toward the door as though he heard her, too.

  “Derek?” Vanessa asked worriedly when her brother didn’t continue their banter but stared at the door.

  “S-sorry,” he stammered, blushing even darker.

  “Seriously, Derek, would you let me take a picture of you for my friend?” Frankie asked.

  “This is crazy,” Oliver snorted but he was glaring at Frankie. “Derek, you don’t want to get involved with—”

  “Sure, Frankie,” Derek said, ignoring his friend’s choked, furious protests. Then he ducked his head. “And you’ll show me a picture of her?”