by G. A. Rael
The Wylde family home was every bit as stately a Danbridge Hall, albeit with more of a modern flair. An entirely glass wall in the dining room looked out over the lake and piano music made the open space feel even lighter. Jordan was still too nervous that she would break something or say something inappropriate to be able to relax. A few weeks of living in close proximity to Samael meant her filter was off.
Colton's silence throughout dinner wasn't helping matters. Over the handful of times Jordan had met her future father-in-law, she couldn't recall him saying more than a dozen words total. Most of those were only uttered at the prodding of his wife.
What Colton lacked in verbosity, Lilian more than made up for. In fact, Jordan didn't think she had stopped talking once the entire night.
"So, I told the caterer last week that I need the finalized menu and he just got back to me," she said, rolling her eyes. "I'm afraid it's too late to do anything about the samosas. Unless, of course, you're willing to reconsider the wedding date…”
"No," Jordan and Chase said in unison. Jordan's face reddened. "It's just that we're really set on doing it as soon as possible. It's fine if everything isn't perfect."
"Is it?" Lilian asked. The question was obviously directed at her son.
"Absolutely," he said, squeezing Jordan’s hand. She fought hard not to recoil, but ever since learning that she and Chase weren’t truly alone even when it was only the two of them in the room, she’d developed a talent for suppressing her emotions. Numbness had always been something that came over her when she couldn’t bear the world around her any longer. There had been little choice in the years of isolation her father had subjected her to as a “punishment” for her mother and brother’s deaths. Now, it was a choice and she would need to make it liberally to get through the evening.
And her marriage.
Jordan also knew that this dinner was likely her last chance to get answers before the wedding. Before she was stuck with Chase and his passenger all the time. Their moving in together would inevitably mean that at least one of the others followed to keep an eye on them, and the longer they were around Chase, the more likely it was that one of them would find out the truth about him. Or that Chase would.
Jordan still wasn’t sure who presented more of a danger to Chase, the others or himself. She couldn’t get rid of his other half without knowing what he was, and she couldn’t get Chase to tell her that without alerting him to the fact that he was possessed.
Or that he was possessing a vessel that wasn’t as empty as he thought. She still wasn’t sure which it was and it made her head hurt to think too much about it. Her only hope of getting the truth was prying it out of his parents. According to the original Chase, they both knew more than they were letting on—and if he resented them, Jordan had hope that they could be reasoned with.
"The only thing that matters is that the people we love most are there," Chase continued, gazing at Jordan.
"Well," Lilian sighed, folding her napkin on the table, "I guess I'll just have to make due."
"Mother, your idea of a last-minute party would put a queen's gala to shame," Chase said without a hint of hyperbole. Jordan knew there was no way the creature she had fallen in love with could bear any genetic relation to the woman sitting across from him, but the adoration in his eyes left no doubt that he saw her as his mother.
Lilian’s flustered demeanor eased and she reached across the table to pat his hand. "Such a sweet boy. You're getting a real angel, Jordan. "
Colton rolled his eyes.
"Or something," Jordan said under her breath, taking another sip of wine.
"I should get back to my study," Colton said, tossing his napkin on his plate as he moved to stand.
Jordan saw her opportunity and leaped up from her chair. "Can I join you?"
Colton stared at her in irritation and confusion. Normally, she would have been too intimidated to even speak with him, but her window of opportunity was dwindling. Colton Wylde had the same golden hair and chiseled features as his son, but it was only when the real Chase had come through that she saw the resemblance in those cold blue eyes. Whether Lilian was willfully ignorant of the change that had come over her son or an active participant in it, Jordan knew that if she stood a shot at getting answers, they were going to come from Colton.
"It's just, um, Chase mentioned that you had a large collection of historical books, and I was wondering if I could take a look."
"You're a history buff?" he asked doubtfully.
"I missed a lot, so I've been trying to catch up."
That seemed to satisfy him. Chase had assured her that he’d spared his parents the gory details of her upbringing, but they knew enough.
Colton nodded. "Alright, then. I'm always happy to show off the collection to another enthusiast," he said, motioning for her to follow him down the hall.
"Wait," called Lilian. "What about the wedding plans?"
"Lilian, you and he are the only ones who give a damn about that interior design bullshit," Colton said harshly. Jordan had noticed that Chase was always "he" or "him" or "the boy," but that Colton never actually called him by name.
Now she could imagine why.
Jordan cringed at the man’s brusqueness, but she didn't know how to appease Lilian without ruining her chance at talking with Colton alone. Before she could try, he disappeared down the hall. Jordan cast an apologetic glance over her shoulder before following after him.
Colton slipped a key from his pocket and unlocked the door to a study that was large but not quite as expansive as she would have imagined. There was still a lofted section that required a ladder to reach.
"This is incredible," Jordan murmured.
Colton beamed with pride as he cast an appreciative glance around the well-ordered shelves. It was the most emotion Jordan had ever seen him exhibit. "This collection is my pride and joy. I've got all the best works of Western history all the way from the Roman Empire to the Reagan Era."
"Why stop there?"
"Because nothing worth preserving has happened since then," he replied matter-of-factly, motioning for her to follow him further down the shelves. "History is my real passion, but I have some smaller collections, too. Astronomy, geography --"
"Folklore?"
He glanced down at her in surprise. "Why yes, actually. In fact, I've got a few of the earliest printed versions of the greats," he said, walking briskly toward another shelf. His eyes scanned down the spines, but Jordan noticed the absence before he did.
In the middle of a row of neatly organized books was a notably blank space. Jordan had a good idea of which book should have been there, too.
"That's strange," he muttered, touching the books on either side of the missing volume. "I never take that one out."
"What was it?" she asked out of sheer masochistic curiosity.
"Creatures of Gaelic Lore," he replied. "First edition, too. Lilian must have taken it. She's always been into that fairy bullshit and she has a bad habit of not leaving other people's things alone."
"Lilian?" she asked, confused. "What about Chase?"
Colton rolled his eyes. "If it doesn't have to do with the penal code, Chase isn’t interested. In case you haven't noticed, he's not the deepest well."
Jordan couldn't help but be stung on Chase's behalf. "He is dedicated to his work."
"He's a paper man," Colton muttered. Jordan had the feeling he wasn't really speaking to her and he moved across the room before she could ask what he meant. "You said you're interested in history. Any particular era?"
"More like multiple events," she said carefully. "I can't really explain why, but I've become interested in the tragedies lately. You know, like the Titanic."
"Well, you're not alone," he said, leaning over one of the shelves. “History has its share to choose from, that's for sure. Most people like to look at the battles and triumphs, but I think there's just as much to learn from the way we respond to the things we couldn't have foreseen."
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"What about the ones that could have been prevented?" she asked. "Surely someone could have warned the people on the Titanic."
Colton chuckled, slipping a worn blue volume off the shelf before offering it to her.
Jordan took it warily. "I don't understand, what's so funny?"
"Just read that and you'll see. The Paul Revere moments in history give us the romantic notion that all disasters could have been averted with foresight and a timely warning, but that's rarely the case. Warnings go unheeded all the time. Look into Pompeii while you're at it."
"You make it sound like they're related," she said, looking down at the faded image of a large ship engraved in the cover. The ground beneath her feet felt unsteady for a moment and she could almost hear a lamp swinging overhead from a creaking cord, but the hallucination was as mild as it was fleeting.
"History and fiction aren't so different, Jordan," he said with a ghost of a smile. "The settings change and the characters get new names, but the themes remain the same."
"Do you think there's any danger in focusing on the past?" she asked, clutching the book to her chest.
"What do you mean?"
"It's just that the more I look into the past, the easier it seems to get drawn in," she admitted. "And maybe to overlook things in the present."
He sighed, leaning against his desk. "It is a refuge, I suppose."
"From what?" she asked earnestly. She was being pushy, but she expected Chase to come through that door any minute and she needed to get Colton talking. "You sound like you're talking about something specific."
He seemed to hesitate. "Nothing. Just work and all the other problems you accrue when you're my age."
Jordan took a step closer and lowered her voice. "Problems like what happened to Chase?"
Colton stared at her like he was trying to come to terms with the fact that she had actually asked that question. "I don't know what you're talking about."
"I just meant the things people gossip about," she said, backtracking. "That must get tiring after so many years."
Colton tipped his head slightly, pouring himself a glass of bourbon from a bottle he kept underneath his desk. It seemed Chase had picked up at least one of his father's habits. "I'm an attorney. Gossip is a disease that's been passed down ever since my great-great-grandfather opened up practice here in town. If there's one thing I know better than to do, it's to take the idle words of bored housewives to heart.”
Jordan felt it more difficult to maintain the illusion of civility around the man the more he spoke. Chase hadn’t inherited his charm from Colton, that was for sure. "But still, wouldn't it have been easier to just move?"
"Lilian may have gutted the house to the point where it looks like the set of the damn Jetsons, but this property has been in my family for generations," Colton said, sitting on the edge of his desk, "I have no intention of being run out of town by a bunch of gossips.”
"I'm sorry," said Jordan, "I didn't mean to imply that you had any reason to leave."
"What did you mean to imply?" he asked, folding his arms. “You're not usually this chatty and I can tell when someone is leading a witness. Just come out with it."
Jordan's breath caught in her throat. It was finally her chance and yet all her courage seemed to have fled. She closed her eyes and packaged the fear up as neatly as she could, telling herself that it was only for a little while. Hermes had warned her that repression was as dangerous as losing control, but it wasn’t like he was around to help. As soon as she was done, the anxiety and awkwardness vanished. There was only a question to be asked and an answer to receive.
"Chase is different," Jordan said, her voice clear and calm now that it was void of emotion. Colton startled at the sudden change in her demeanor.
"Pardon?"
"You know what I mean. It's obvious and everyone knows it, but you and Lilian pretend like everything is fine," she continued. "People say it in different ways. 'Chase isn't like he was in high school.' 'Isn't it hard to believe he's the one they thought killed that girl?' It's always the same theme, though. Chase isn't the same person he was back then. Everyone knows it, but only you and Lilian know why."
He stared at her and for a long moment, Jordan thought she was about to be chased out of the house. Or maybe Colton would just get rid of her and pay off whomever he needed to in order to make her disappear, just like he had done after Jessica’s death. Jordan could only regard either possibility with the most detached curiosity.
"I was wondering when the quiet little farmgirl routine would falter," he muttered, setting his half-finished glass on the table. "I have to admit, I thought it would last at least until the wedding."
"I'm just stating the facts. It's hardly a crime to put them together."
Colton crossed his arms and watched her. "I don't know whether to throw you out or pour you a drink."
"Can't you do one while contemplating the other?"
He gave a low chuckle and set another glass on the desk, sliding it over to her. Jordan took a long sip and only slightly winced at the bitter taste.
"So you figured it out," he muttered. "I think Lilian was hoping that an out of towner was his best shot. Especially if she could get the two of you to leave Cold Creek before the gossips got to you."
"The promotion?”
"New York would have been a fresh start. He should have taken it. God knows I wouldn't have minded the distance," Colton said, throwing back the rest of his bourbon. He gave the ice no time to melt before pouring another.
"Why do you hate him so much?" Jordan asked. It was even more obvious now that she could see everything free of emotion. She was going to have to use that little trick more often. "He's your son."
Colton sighed. “No. He isn’t. I loved my son, maybe too much. So much I became what I hated in order to protect him."
"You're talking about Jessica," she said, frowning.
Colton gave her a silencing look. Even with her newfound bravado, Jordan knew better than to challenge it. "That's a name we don't speak freely in this house, but yes. I loved my son even if he was a monster, but that thing in there?" His lip curled back slightly as he jabbed a finger in the direction of the dining room, ice tinkling against the glass in his hand. "That's not my son and it hasn't been for sixteen years."
"Then who is he?" Jordan asked, relieved that her emotions were inaccessible for the moment. Now that she actually had the confirmation she had sought so desperately, she wasn't at all sure what to do with it.
"You tell me," Colton scoffed. "I did my due diligence for years trying to sort out the whole mess. When the child you’ve fed and clothed and loved for his whole life goes to bed one way and wakes up as a completely different person, you notice."
"What stopped you?" she asked. "You don't seem like the kind of man who gives up before he finds answers."
"Sixteen years ago, I woke up to a nightmare," he said, his familiar blue eyes taking on a distant look. "Lilian woke up to the answer to all her prayers."
"She never wanted to know what happened to your son?" Jordan asked in disbelief.
"No, and the more I tried to find out, the more she discouraged me," he said bitterly. "She tried to convince me I was insane. Hell, she even threatened to have me committed a couple of times if I refused to drop it. As far as she was concerned, our son was the devil and the thing that took his place was nothing less than an angel."
"Was she entirely wrong?"
Colton gave her a sharp look. "You'll understand one day when you're a parent. For your sake, I hope to God that thing wearing my son's corpse doesn't make you one. You love him, you protect him, you shelter him. You —”
"You hide the body when he kills someone else's child," she finished for him.
Colton took another drink. "Yes," he said hoarsely. "That is what you do, because it does not matter what he does, how much of a monster he becomes or how disappointed you are, he is your child and nothing changes that."
"Lilian didn
't feel the same way."
Colton's shoulders fell. "No. Chase was a difficult child. Lilian stayed home with him while I spent most of my time in Burlington. She dealt with the brunt of his..."
"Sociopathic tendencies?" Jordan offered.
The man scowled. "For lack of a better term, yes. It wore on her. That girl he killed was the last straw, but she certainly wasn't the first."
"So Lilian just accepted this Chase as a replacement for the old one, just like that?"
"Just like that."
Jordan took a deep breath. "Mr. Wylde, what is Chase?"
"Chase was my son," he said in a listless voice. "As for the thing that wears his skin and makes a mockery of the name I gave him, I couldn't tell you. I did my research over the years, much to Lilian’s chagrin. It all started out as a rational, if far-fetched, series of failed theories. Multiple personalities, extreme variations of PTSD, atypical retrograde amnesia. When none of that fit the bill, I turned to demons, shapeshifters, hell, I even joined a UFO support group up in Burlington just looking for answers."
"Hence the folklore."
He snorted. "My all-time low, if you ask me."
"Did you find anything?"
He shook his head slowly. "Nothing that made sense, anyway. The things that did fit got so loopy I finally just quit looking at all. That was right around the time Lilian threatened to leave me and throw me into the nuthouse if I kept tugging on loose threads. Sometimes I wish she had."
"You never looked into it again?" she asked doubtfully.
"No, and if you're smart, you'll do the same," he said firmly. "Take this as advice from one inquisitive mind to another. End this before it's too late, before you get sucked into this family and this town any more than you already have."
Jordan listened. There was reason in his words, more than he could possibly know, and yet she wouldn't entertain them even for a moment. "I can't."
"Can't or won't?"
She paused to consider. "Maybe a little of both."
He gave a knowing sigh. "I figured as much, and I know why."
"Why?"
"Because you're just like my wife," he muttered bitterly. "You've fallen in love with that thing, too."
