Needless to say, the next morning was an agonizing one.
Fiona brought me water and a light breakfast, which she must have gone out to get because there’d been barely any food in the house yesterday. Then she checked on me a few more times that morning to make sure I was still alive. I felt almost as bad as when Matthew had drugged me, when I’d lost a good twelve hours of my life. It was good to finally get validation that it was actually him during our discussions yesterday. I’d always suspected he was involved, but he’d destroyed my proof—some of my favorite pictures of Fiona—which was still extremely frustrating. Luckily, he didn’t check on me too.
I didn’t know what I was supposed to do now. How could I go home? What would I say? I couldn’t go to New York at this point; the school year had started and left me behind. But besides that, it just didn’t seem important anymore. Nothing did.
However, I also knew I couldn’t stay here forever. As much as I just wanted to lie in bed all day, I got myself up slightly before noon, only to find the house empty. I went to the garage to grab some clean clothes from the U-Haul, which was still costing me money, but it had become much less of a concern.
I showered, threw up, finished making myself halfway presentable, then searched out some food that didn’t churn my stomach. Dry bread was always good for that sort of thing, and since there didn’t seem to be a toaster in the kitchen, I just took a few slices and ate them plain. My stomach didn’t thank me at first but began to calm down after a bit.
I plopped down on the couch that was the scene of the crime from yesterday’s drinking overindulgence, scrolling through all the alerts and messages on my phone. I was paralyzed from doing anything but reading. I wanted to call Alexis, but again—what would I even say? What could I reasonably tell her? I wanted to contact my parents to let them know I was all right, but I was consumed by the same paradox. I couldn’t go spouting off to the world that vampires existed. I couldn’t let everyone know the real reason I’d never made it to NYU.
I didn’t know what my parents would have done by now, either. Maybe they’d filed a missing person’s report with the police? I could even see my father flying to New York to get some answers as to why I hadn’t returned any of their messages.
Fiona was already getting out of the house and working to figure out her next step, and I knew I needed to do the same. I couldn’t just lie here forever afraid of what was coming next; I needed to start by bridging the gap, which led me to an idea to at least make contact.
After downing a full glass of water, I unhitched the U-Haul and drove to my old high school. It hadn’t been that long since I’d been there, but it already felt different—like it truly wasn’t mine any longer. The outward appearance of the fenced-in campus hadn’t changed. Technically, three fourths of the student body hadn’t changed. But there was already an alien property to it as I strolled from the senior parking lot to the main entrance.
I knew I should technically be checking in with the office since I was a campus guest, but since the bell had just rung, I dove right into the deluge of students headed for fifth period.
I headed for the quad, where I stopped and sat on a brick ledge to text my sister, Emma. She’d just started her sophomore year and I had no idea what her current class schedule was like. I told her I was here and that she should meet me in the quad, then was forced to wait.
The bell rang again, signaling the start of class, and I’d still received no reply. The flow of students quickly dwindled. But the good thing about fifth period was that not all the upperclassmen had one, so some were already done for the day or were heading to extracurriculars, which helped me not to stand out like a beacon.
Then the doors to the humanities building opened and Emma stepped out into the open air. She frantically scanned the quad; it only took her a few moments to notice me and rush straight over.
“Oh my God, Sean!” she cried and crashed into me with a hug. “What are you doing here? What’s happened to you? Everyone’s been so worried!”
“I know and I’m sorry,” I said, freeing myself from her white-knuckled grasp. “It’s been a crazy few weeks and I can’t get into all that’s happened. I just wanted to let you know—as well as pass it on to the rest of the family—that I’m okay. I’m not dead or kidnapped or anything.”
“But why can’t you talk about it? Why aren’t you at school? Why have you been totally MIA?” Emma crossed her arms, almost looking upset now. I could only assume she thought my reasons for not going to school and leaving everyone in the dark was for selfish reasons. And I couldn’t even tell her they weren’t.
I shook my head. “I wish I could talk about it, but I just can’t. There are things going on outside of my control that could put everyone in danger. So please believe me when I say I’m only trying to help.”
“Help with what? You’re scaring me,” she said, almost in a whisper from worry. Her voice was shaky. “You’re not on drugs, are you? I mean, caught up with a bad cr—"
“No! No! Not that. I—” I stopped abruptly. I didn’t even know what to say. I’d known this would be hard, but I didn’t think it would be this hard, she was suffering, and I was the cause. “I don’t mean to scare you. I’m just trying to say I’m all right. Really.” I smiled, a warm and genuine smile, and reached out to lightly hold her fingertips. She relaxed before my eyes.
“When are you coming home?” she asked. “You can’t put this on me to tell everyone. You do realize I’m going to be grilled with questions, don’t you? And when I can’t answer any of them because you won’t tell me anything, guess whose fault it’s gonna be. Mine. I didn’t ask enough questions. I didn’t ask the right questions. I didn’t ask them in the right way. I didn’t demand answers. I didn’t bring you home immediately. They’re gonna blame me…”
“I can’t go home yet,” I said, now just noticing I was biting my cuticles again as she was lecturing me. God; now my little sister was regaling me but I knew it was only because she was scared for me. “And I don’t know when I’ll be able to go home, Em. But know this—I’m doing what I can to be able to safely return.”
“Then I’m not gonna say anything,” Emma said. “We’ve already been waiting. Mom and Dad might as well continue to wait until they can hear your story from you.”
“Fine. I get it. As long as someone in the family knows I’m not dead or something, it makes me feel better.”
“Good; as long as you feel better.” She was starting to sound like Mom. “That’s all that matters, obviously.” Her tone was cold now; she thought I was selfish.
“Listen, Em. I’m sorry I dropped this on you,” I said. “I didn’t mean to make this harder. Anyway, how’s Erica?”
“About the same as the rest of us. Worried. Confused, you know? As for me, I’m now more mixed up than worried. And I hate that you keep talking about how it’s not safe…”
“Well, that pretty much sums up how I’m feeling right now too.”
“Look,” she said. “I better get back to class.” She leaned forward to offer a goodbye hug and a kiss on the cheek, then took a few steps back. “You’ll come home soon, okay? Don’t leave us in the dark. And don’t leave me wondering what the hell this was all about. Please. Come home.”
Now she looked a bit teary-eyed again but I wasn’t sure if I was imagining it.
“I’ll try,” I said, unsure of what was in my power to do as I watched my sister return to the humanities building, her head down, as if she felt defeated.
18
Susan
2006
“You need to eat something—to keep your strength up,” Mom said, rubbing my back.
I’d pulled a chair to the side of Fiona’s bed and was leaning forward, laying my head on the mattress. She was sleeping now, both her arms outside the covers. I nuzzled next to her bandaged arm.
“I’m not hungry,” I said.
“Then you should at least get some air. Stretch your legs. Go for a walk. She’s sleeping. I
’ll be right here in case she wakes up.” Mom moved tendrils of hair out of my face.
“I don’t want her to wake up and me not be here.” I closed my eyes as tears prickled at the edges. I thought I was all cried out, but apparently not.
“Fiona needs her mother, but so do you,” Mom said. “You’re not alone, you know.” She kissed the side of my head. “Tell you what. I’ll go check on your father and bring you back some food. You need to eat. Fiona needs her mother to be strong, and not eating won’t help anyone. I’ll be back soon.” She stood over me waiting for some kind of acknowledgement, but I didn’t offer one. So, with a quiet sigh, she walked out of Fiona’s assigned ICU room.
Becca had been pronounced dead before we’d even left for the hospital. Fiona and I rode in one ambulance while little Becca’s broken body had been put into another. It was determined it would be too traumatic for Fiona to share an ambulance with her deceased sister. And as for me, I wanted to be with both my girls and felt torn in two, but had to do what was best for Fiona. She was all I had left. She needed me more now than ever before.
I called Mom during the drive and asked her to stop by my apartment and bring some clothes since I was still in a bloodstained bathrobe; I wasn’t even thinking about the state of the apartment she’d find when she arrived. Suddenly, I remembered and tried to stop her going there after all, but by the time I called back, she was already there. From her voice I knew she was trying to hide the fact she was crying, but I knew, and it certainly didn’t help my own composure.
I had let my beautiful girls down, and now I had done the same to Mom. “Mom, I’m sorry,” I cried down the phone. We ended the call, both of us unable to speak anymore.
My sorry had not been enough to offset what I’d just put Mom through.
Fiona’s arm twitched, causing me to raise my head. She still seemed to be asleep. Perhaps she was dreaming, which was hopefully about anything other than what had happened to her this morning. I hadn’t been able to talk to her yet since she’d been heavily medicated. She’d recently gotten out of surgery from having repairs to her right shoulder and to the deep gashes in her right cheek. She was all bandaged up, now, these outer wounds concealed well. The doctors told me the tissue damage was so severe, additional reconstructive surgeries would be required. Even then, they couldn’t promise she’d regain full use and mobility of either her arm or her facial muscles. I had to prepare myself that her quality of life might never be the same. But at least she’d have a future…
Convinced she was still asleep and not suffering from a terrible nightmare, I lay my head back on the bed. However, every time I closed my eyes, I saw that ghoulish creature standing in the foyer, with blood dripping from its gaping mouth. I heard Fiona’s screams and I saw Becca’s still body. I could still feel her in my arms as she drifted away into permanent sleep. I’d never be able to hear her cheerful voice again.
I didn’t know how long it had been before Mom came back; everything had become surreal by that point. She strolled in with an entire tray of food like she’d taken one of everything from the cafeteria; she placed it all on a side table, setting it out just so.
She never mentioned what she’d seen back at the house; her eyes looked as warm and loving as usual and not full of the blame or disgust I felt I deserved.
“And before you say I brought you one of everything, I didn’t bring you a hotdog because I knew you wouldn’t touch it,” she said. “How about some Jell-O to start with? You know there’s always room for Jell-O.” She stopped, hoping to get a smile out of me, but it wouldn’t work.
Not today. Not ever again.
“I told you, Mother—I’m not hungry,” I said. And I hated myself again, knowing I sounded ungrateful and rude. But I couldn’t help it.
“How about a coffee from the kiosk downstairs?”
I needed to stay awake to keep all the horrifying visions at bay. “Okay,” I conceded. “A coffee would be nice.”
I thought she would have to make another trip, but she’d already purchased me the drink. She removed it from the tray and handed it to me.
“Thanks,” I said.
“Please, let me know what I can do,” she said, grabbing my face in one hand and forcing me to look at her. “Anything.”
“Well, stop trying to get me to eat. People can go for days without food. It’s barely been eight hours. I’m not going to die of starvation.”
“I just don’t want you to make yourself sick, that’s all.”
“But food will make me sick right now.” I took a sip of the black coffee and burned the tip of my tongue. “Damn, that’s hot.” I heard my own voice moaning and complaining, as if I was listening to another person. It was horrible to hear but I couldn’t stop the vile, ungrateful words coming tumbling from my lips each time I tried to speak.
“Sorry, I should have put cream in it. I can get cream if you want. Or sugar. I didn’t think you took any.”
“It’s fine, just as it is,” I said. Even that sounded dismissive. Why hadn’t I said it was nice? Not just fine. My brow knitted. Nothing made sense anymore; even my own mind didn’t.
Mom pulled up another chair so she could sit next to me. She also had a coffee for herself. When she removed the lid, I noticed she’d put creamer in hers. “I know Becca is a terrible loss for you,” she said, softly. “I can’t imagine losing you now, let alone when you were her age.”
“Mom, please. Let’s not do this now.”
“Just listen,” she insisted. “Losing Becca is absolutely terrible, but don’t punish Fiona with your sorrow. She will need you now more than ever.”
“I’d never do that to her. I’d do anything for her.”
“Your father and I will be here to help however we can, but the one thing we can’t do is replace you. Fiona will need help, love, and support from her whole family. But most of all, she’ll need her mother.”
“I know. I’ll never abandon her,” I said. “She’s all I’ve got left.”
Mom pulled me in for a sideways hug, careful not to spill my coffee. “That’s not true, though I know it might seem that way right now.”
She sat with me until our coffees were gone. She was about to ask me if I wanted some food, but then caught herself. Instead, she excused herself to use the restroom and check on my father who wouldn’t leave the waiting room.
I leaned back in the chair with my eyes glued to Fiona, peaceful in her slumber, yet covered in bandages and connected to machines. And as I sat there, I thought of doing something I’d never considered before—though maybe a part of me had, which was why I hadn’t deleted his number after the seven years we’d been apart.
I removed my phone from my pocket and scrolled through my contacts. I had him in my phone simply as Roland, but still remembered his last name. Damascus. I didn’t think anything else would be hard after the morning I’d endured, but I almost couldn’t press the call button.
I was tempted to hang up at the sound of each ring. But I allowed it to continue—all the way to voicemail. There was no personalized message any longer, just an automated one reciting the phone number. I didn’t know if this was still his number, nor was I convinced I wanted it to be. I took a deep breath and licked my lips, awaiting the beep.
“Roland, it’s Susan. I don’t know if this is still your number, but it’s all I have. I know it’s been a long time and we’ve both moved on with our lives, but… but something’s happened, which you deserve to be told. I—I had two daughters—twins actually—and probably should have told you long ago, but they’re yours. Umm… One of them was killed this morning. I’m in the hospital now. Our other daughter will live, but she’s been badly hurt. I—I just thought you should know.”
19
Matthew
When I’d come to collect Fiona, she’d informed me Mallory had been there. She was gone by the time I arrived, so I wasn’t able to see this strange anomaly for myself. With everything I knew about her family, I couldn’t fathom why she wo
uld have been at Sisters of Mercy. And she certainly wasn’t going to talk about it to me, so this was something I knew I’d have to ask Jack about later.
When we returned to my safe house, Sean was fast asleep, having drained much of the second bottle I’d left for him. Luckily, Fiona hadn’t noticed I’d put it there before we’d left. But we could hear him snoring from his closed bedroom door.
“You think I care about people, right?” Fiona asked as we were getting ready for bed.
“How can you even ask that?” I said, as I rinsed off my toothbrush. “Look at what you’re doing—and have done for Sean. I can’t think of anyone more focused on the wellbeing of others. Why would you ask that?”
“I dunno. I was just thinking,” she said; she dried her face on a towel hanging from the shower rod, and quietly left the bathroom.
I wanted to inquire more, but it was clear it was a subject she didn’t want to continue discussing.
The next morning, after Fiona was eventually convinced Sean wouldn’t die from his excessive wine consumption, we headed to the Society compound to request an audience with the Assembly. During our meeting at Sisters of Mercy, I’d already asked Ashley to broach the subject with Janice. We needed to get Fiona’s name cleared so we could continue on with our lives and come out of hiding. I knew it would take some convincing, but Fiona was innocent.
Per Fiona’s request, Ashley was also to talk to Vladimir, to make sure he was present during the Assembly session since we could use all the help we could get.
When Fiona and I arrived outside of the conference room, Vladimir was already waiting, leaning against the wall beside the closed doors.
“I’m so glad to see you’re both all right,” he said, first reaching out to shake my hand, then offering Fiona a hug.
Angeles Covenant Page 10
