“We just wanted to let you know that we know. We know what you are. We know who you are. And now?” He dropped the empty bowl back down on the table with a clatter. “We know where you are.”
He stalked off and I lost sight of him as soon as he turned the corner. I pushed myself up and looked over the wall. Goliath was gone too, though how someone so big and distinct could have melted into the crowd so fast was anybody’s guess. I thought I caught a glimpse of him by the door, but it was gone in a flash. I leaped to my feet, a couple of twenties thrown down on the table. I couldn’t give two shits about over-tipping at a time like this. I grabbed my bag and coat and ran, pushing my way through the crowd and tossing out apologies as I went. I burst through the doors and nearly tripped over my own feet as I stumbled down the single step to the sidewalk. The street was busy enough for a chilly fall night, but the troll and his crony were nowhere to be seen.
Footsteps pounded up behind me. I whirled around, falling back into the fighting stance Gannon had taught me, fists raised.
“Whoa, Cat, it’s us! Stand down!” Mairi skidded to a halt, skirt fluttering around her striped stockings. She was panting nearly as hard as I was, out of breath from her own sprint. Gannon and Kaine were hard at her heels, both looking like they were spoiling for a fight.
Their anger had nothing on mine. I strong-armed Mairi out of my way. “Where the hell were you guys? What took you so long?”
Kaine frowned and looked around, making a shsshing motion with his hand. “We got here as fast as we could—”
“Well you weren’t fast enough! They’re gone. Did you hear me? Gone!” I was a hairsbreadth away from screaming. Tears streamed down my cheeks, though from fear or anger I couldn’t say. I was shaking so hard I couldn’t keep my purse on my shoulder. Passerbys hustled along, looking over their shoulders at the scene I was making. I didn’t care.
“We couldn’t get here any faster.” Gannon took the fore when Kaine turned away, displeased by my display of emotion. He sounded angry too, but not nearly repentant enough for one making such an inadequate apology. He spread his hands in entreaty. “We were all the way across town. There was nothing we could do.”
“You don’t get it, do you? They know who I am. They know what I am. They were looking for me and they found me. This might have been the one chance we had at stopping them from letting all their little friends know I exist! You promised to keep me safe but the first time I needed you—” I couldn’t continue. I turned away and buried my face in my crumpled jacket. I trembled, trying to keep my legs from giving out. I should have known all along that something like this would happen.
Mairi came up behind me and wrapped her own coat around my shoulders. Her words were soft in my ear. “Come on. Let’s get you home.”
I wanted to push her away. I wanted to cling to her and sob. My whole world felt like it had been shaken to the foundation. All the fight drained out of me. I fished my keys out of my purse and handed them to her. I didn’t spare Gannon or Kaine a single glance as I let her lead me to the car. I just couldn’t.
All this time I had been convincing myself that I was strong; that I was a fighter. All it had taken was ten minutes to rip me down and prove that I was a silly little girl in over her head. I had thrown my lot in with strangers—dangerous strangers—and expected them to live up to their word when it counted. Silly me.
Stupid, silly me.
Chapter Fifteen
The alarm went off for a third time on Tuesday morning. I slapped at it again, this time aiming for the kill switch instead of the snooze. I rubbed the sleep crust from one eye and glared at it. My digital adversary told me I should have stumbled into the shower twenty minutes ago but there I was; still entangled in my blankets, with my hair frizzing out in a halo around my head. I felt safe in my warm little cocoon. Safe and sleepy, even though I had spent the better part of the previous day dozing on and off in the very same place.
In fact, I had spent the last few days shut up in my apartment. Unlike the last time, where I had indulged in a bit of crazy after my world was rocked, this time I had spent a good amount of time crying and stamping my feet. I’m pretty sure there was a hefty amount of bemoaning my fate and rethinking all of my life choices as well but, who can tell? By Monday I had stopped spending time in the living room, where the treadmill glared at me with accusation, opting for quality time with my bed and laptop-turned-DVD-player instead.
My phone had been on perma-silent, making it easier to ignore all calls. Mairi had checked in via text a few times, but she seemed to understand that I needed a bit of space to come to grips with the emotional upheaval the other night had caused. The fae-house had also rung me twice. I had let both calls go to voicemail, where they remained; unchecked. I wasn’t ready to deal with them just yet.
I had forestalled Jenni with the claim of a nasty stomach bug. It was the same lie I had told to my boss yesterday morning before turning over and falling back into a sleep often interrupted by bad dreams. I wasn’t ready to cop to all-out depression just yet (that wasn’t really my thing), but I had no motivation to get out of bed, let alone face work. I was running out of sick time, and the boss would be super pissed if I called out a second day in a row, but I couldn’t bring myself to care.
I looked down.
The cellphone was already in my hand.
When the automatic system picked up on the second ring I punched in the numbers that would direct it to Allison’s extension. I could remember, once upon a time, when I had hated calling out sick. Loathed it really, to the point that I had often gone into work when legitimately ill just to avoid making that awkward phone call in the morning. I guess those days had faded into the past with the rest of the normalcy in my life. I didn’t feel the overwhelming guilt and panic I once had, but I still wasn’t looking forward to the disapproval I would hear on the other end either. I held my breath and hoped it would go to her voicemail.
I should have known I wouldn’t be that lucky.
“Good morning, this is Allison speaking. How may I help you today?”
The amount of chipper in those words hit me like a brick. I pulled a face like I was dying, sticking my tongue out even if no one could see it. Petty, sure, but it made me feel better at a time when so little did. I didn’t bother trying to clear the sleep fog from my voice. “Hi Allison. It’s Caitlin.”
I could almost hear the frost crackle as it settled over the line. “Good morning Caitlin. What’s up?”
Yeeeeeah, there was nothing “good” in that greeting.
The me of a few months ago would have started having heart palpitations over the impending lie after such a chilly reception. Present Caitlin? I don’t think my heartbeat even sped up. I said, “Nothing good, unfortunately. Still feeling pretty terrible. Thankfully, I’m not glued to the toilet anymore, but I think I’m gonna need another day of tea and toast to get back on my feet.”
When in doubt, hedge on the side of TMI. It discourages too many unpleasant questions.
There was a moment of silence and I could picture the sour pucker I was getting on the other end of the line. I threw in an “I’m sorry” though I didn’t think either of us really believed that I was. It was just another of those social niceties in the angry boss/contrite employee game but, hey; I tried.
Finally, she graced with me a small sigh—possibly more of an angry nasal exhale—and said, “Fine. Feel better.”
The call ended.
I stared at the screen on my phone, searching myself for any hint of surprise, but found none. I didn’t care and it was pretty impossible for me to pretend otherwise. I knew that I should be feeling some sort of remorse or worry over the hot water I was wading into with her but… I didn’t. I couldn’t. Facing a pissy soccer mom and her verbal reprimands hardly seemed frightening after looking into the eyes of a fairytale creature who wanted to eat my spleen.
I tossed my cell back onto the nightstand and rolled over. The blankets followed, enveloping me in a
warm, downy cocoon. I snuggled in until I found a cool spot on my pillow, hoping the physical comfort would quiet my mind and lull me back to sleep.
~*~
A few hours later I had gotten out of bed just for a change of pace. Not that parking myself on the couch, still in my pajamas, was much of an improvement. The TV was on but I wasn’t paying attention to it. I was using the cooking channel more to mark the passage of time than for entertainment purposes. Whenever one overly cheerful hostess was exchanged for another, I knew another half hour had passed.
On some level, it irked me that I was wasting a perfectly good mental health day. On the other hand, I just couldn’t find the energy to do anything. I was in dire need of a shower and I hadn’t even managed that. The most energetic thing I had managed was a PB&J for lunch, so preoccupied at the time that I had hardly tasted it.
My thoughts just kept chasing themselves around in circles. One moment I’d be fuming over Kaine’s failure to keep his promise and get my bad guy. The next, I’d be wallowing in crushing despair, certain that said bad guy (now guys, actually) were going to find me, no matter what I did. The worst part was that I knew I was being overly dramatic. I knew, deep down, that Kaine et al. had tried to come to my rescue. Unlike the romance novels I had grown up reading under the covers, the hero didn’t always swoop in at the right moment to help the damsel in distress. That was just real life. Real was a vague term, considering I was talking about a life that involved trolls and faeries—but, still.
I knew I shouldn’t be taking it so personally, but I couldn’t help it. I didn’t want to help it. Maybe it was the timing. I had just finally started to feel like I was stronger than the mess my life had become; like I had a handle on it all. Being, literally, cornered by those cretins had taken me right back to the square one. They had left me feeling like that scared shitless, powerless, vapid girl who had thought things like designer purses and the season’s hottest shade of lipstick were oh-so important. The one who had honestly believed that everything in life would work out, one day, and that being a little lost was no big deal, so long as I had a good time doing it.
They reminded me of the innocence that night had taken from me and I hated them for it.
I rolled over onto my stomach and buried my face in a throw pillow. I kicked my feet like a child, screaming until my throat went raw. Thankfully, the pillow muffled it enough that I didn’t expect the owners of the business downstairs to come check on who was being murdered. When the frustration had drained out of me, I lifted my head and pushed the tangled mass of hair out of my face. I scuttled back into the corner of the couch, pulling my blanket around me like it would somehow protect me from that aching empty place inside me. I looked around the apartment.
Nothing had changed, of course. The TV chattered on in front of me, the chicken sizzling happily in a skillet making my stomach turn. The faint sound of traffic echoed outside the window, interspaced with a few honks and the wail of a far-off police siren. There was nothing new, nothing special, to mark my emotional breakthrough. The world was oblivious to my anguish, just as it always had been. Getting to the heart of the issue didn’t lift any of my sadness; it just made me feel more alienated. Suddenly, I didn’t feel quite so much like being alone anymore.
I fished around under the blanket until I found my phone. I stared at it, cradled in my palm. There were only a few people I talked to regularly, and none of them really fit the bill, considering what I was going through. Even as irritated with me as she was, I knew Jenni would still drop everything to lend me an ear if I called her in the middle of the day. I even considered it for a moment, before deciding that doing so would likely cost a price I wasn’t up to paying. She would have more questions than solutions for me, and, honestly, I didn’t have any answers for her. The only other one I could turn to was Mairi. She would actually understand the issues that were at the heart of my impending breakdown, but I didn’t really want to go there with her either. Not yet.
I took a deep breath. I already knew I’d regret the urge later (as I always did), but I gave into that primal instinct every girl has when she’s feeling lost and vulnerable.
I called my mother.
As it rang, I wondered if I had finally lost my mind. Conversations with my mother never went in my favor. Don’t get me wrong; she was a sweet, loving woman—just not particularly so with her eldest offspring. It had been that way from the cradle, if family lore was to be believed. My maternal grandmother had been more of a mother to me than my own during the first few years of my life while my mother suffered through some undiagnosed post-partum depression. That may have explained some of the coolness between us, but it hadn’t made accepting it any easier. I only had the alienated, often hurt, feelings of my teen years to go on. I remembered more screaming matches (which I had usually started) and slammed doors (which was how my younger self had preferred to end those verbal battles) than hugs in my lifetime.
As the years went by, I continually knocked my head into the same wall over and over, trying to forge some sort of common ground, adult-to-adult relationship. Sometimes I tricked myself into believing it was working.
“Why aren’t you at work?”
Sometimes even I couldn’t be that deluded.
The disapproval was evident in her voice, like I was still thirteen years old and being caught playing hooky from school. I swallowed a sigh. “Hi to you too mom. I called out of work today. Had a little stomach virus or something.”
“Oh.” I could hear the television on in the background. She was probably watching The Price is Right while she ate her lunch. She had done that pretty much every day since as early as I could remember. I bet her lunch had been a ham sandwich with mayo too. She had always been a creature of habit. She asked, “Something going around the office?”
I don’t think she really believed me, but it was nice to be humored. “Stomach trouble” had always been her go-to excuse to beg off of something she didn’t want to do too. I was probably a lot more like my mother than I cared to admit. I shrugged, knowing full well she couldn’t see me do so. “Maybe. Kinda hit me out of the blue.”
“Diane had some sort of flu last month. Everyone has been getting sick on and off ever since.” Mom droned on about the Great Plague of the Year and its effects on her office for a bit. I made the appropriate sounds of encouragement to keep her going every now and then. I didn’t really care about any of what she was saying. It was just nice to hear another voice that wasn’t coming out of the television.
When her tale of woe had run its course, she took a noisy drag on her cigarette and asked, “So what else is wrong with you?”
I’m not sure if the timing of the question or its phrasing gave me pause, but for a good thirty seconds I was left dumbstruck. Finally I managed to slap on some sarcasm to hide my guilt-ridden surprise. “Gee ma, love you too!”
She laughed, in her wheezy-wet smoker’s way. “Not with you personally, dingbat. I mean, what’s going on that has you calling me on a Tuesday afternoon?”
I sucked in my cheeks, counting slowly to five. “Why do you assume something is wrong? Can’t a girl just want to say hi to her mother?”
“You never call me in the middle of the day, Caitlin Marie.” I shrank back into the pillows reflexively. Hearing my middle name was never good. She chided me, “Hell, you hardly call me at all these days. Something must be going on. What is it?”
Had I wanted to talk about the deep, dark issues that were eating away at my soul? Maybe—but only on that “never actually going to happen” level. Really dishing the dirt with my mom was something I hadn’t done since, well… Ever. I felt betrayed by her sudden interest in my life. I pulled the phone away from my ear, giving her little digital image on its face an accusatory stare.
Have you ever had one of those moments in a conversation where you realize you really have nothing to say? Like, not even small talk? A moment where the words have literally dried up in your mouth and you just want it to be ov
er, so you start to panic while trying to think of a single freaking thing to say? You know; one of those times where you just sit there, feeling dumb and listening to the silence drag on, wondering why the hell you ever picked the phone up in the first place?
Suddenly I was wondering just what the hell I had been thinking. Calling my mother had been some deep seated little-girl-in-need-of-comfort instinct but I had remembered too late that there was nothing comforting about our relationship. Her putting me on the spot like that left me slack-jawed, feeling more and more anxious by the minute, until the words finally spilled out of my mouth, unbidden. “I’m lost.”
“Come again?”
Tears had already sprung to my eyes. My voice wavered, threatening to crack. “I’m lost, ma. I feel like nothing I do is ever right and I just keep spinning my wheels trying to figure out how to make tomorrow better—but it just stays the same or gets worse.” I took a deep breath, swallowing a sniffle. I scrubbed at my traitorous eyes with a balled fist. “I just don’t know what to do to fix my life.”
I don’t know what I expected her to say. I wasn’t really expecting an earful of sage wisdom. Mom had never been big on doling out wordy life lessons. Maybe I was hoping for a nugget of advice. Perhaps even some sort of commiseration; a promise that every woman went through this stage in their lives and that mine too would pass. At the very least, a sound of sympathy would have been nice.
“Really, Caitlin.” The word was drawn out almost into a drawl, heavy with disgust. Or maybe it was exasperation. The two kind of sounded the same when coming from mom’s mouth.
I felt like I had been slapped. My eyes welled up again and my cheeks burned, missing only the sting of a physical blow. My stomach did a sickening somersault, chastising me for expecting any sort of empathy to have come through from the other end of the phone. I felt like an ass, and that made me snappish. “Yes, really, mom.”
Iron (The Warding Book 1) Page 17
