Marked for Vengeance (Book One: The Alyx Rayer Chronicles)

by Pierce, SJ

  “Who’s that man with the hat, dad?” Micah whispered.

  “I’m not sure. He ran into me the other day comin’ off the elevator. He didn’t say excuse me or anythin’.”

  Micah threw the man a disgusted look. “What a jerk.”

  “My thoughts exactly, he gives me the willies. Don’t go anywhere around our buildin’ at night by yourself, ok?”

  “Ok, geez. He’s probably just retarded or something.”

  Isaac elbowed him in the arm. “Don’t use that word, son.”

  “Sorry. But you have to admit, there’s something a little off about him.”

  As their truck sat idle at the entrance of their building, waiting for an opening in the long line of cars, Isaac took notice of the cotton candy sunset overhead. He imagined a giant paint brush had mixed the pink and blue hues together and swiped them across the sky. “Look, Micah!” he said, craning his neck for a better view, knowing no painting in the world could accurately capture the true splendor of nature.

  Micah didn’t respond. He stared out his window at the strangers who meandered down the sidewalk.

  “Micah, what’s the matter?”

  His gaze moved to Isaac with distant eyes. “Did you say something?”

  “Tell me where your mind is. You ok?”

  “I’m fine,” he replied, unconvincingly. “In my own little world, I guess.”

  Isaac hitched an eyebrow as he refocused on his driving, still looking him over from the corner of his eye. “Alright, just makin’ sure.”

  He pressed the gas pedal and waved at the man who kindly let them in front of him, and then promptly hit the brakes. They now waited in the long line of cars. He drummed on the bottom of the steering wheel with his index fingers and glanced at Micah again. He had a sneaking suspicion that his son’s explanation didn’t truly reflect what churned inside his head. He was only thirteen years old, but he typically paid attention to everything that went on around him, so when he seemed distracted, it raised red flags inside of Isaac’s fatherly mind. I bet it was that dream, he thought, worrying that it still haunted his thoughts.

  After a few traffic lights and a detour because of road construction later, they made it to the theatre and pulled into a parking space near the back. He set the parking brake and went to unbuckle his seatbelt when he noticed Micah fidgeting with the zipper on his jacket pocket. He crossed his arms and watched the clock, waiting to see if he would eventually realize that they were there. After a minute, his patience ran out. “Ok, buddy, what’s wrong?”

  Micah’s head snapped up, and he looked around the parking lot. “Sorry,” he said and hung his head. “Nothing’s wrong.”

  “If you don’t tell me, I’m goin’ to turn the truck around and head home. Just moments ago you were psyched about goin’ out, and now you’re actin’ all gloomy.”

  “Fine,” he huffed. “I can’t quit thinking about that dream last night.”

  I knew it!

  “I swear I was totally awake. Even when I got out of bed and you came up the stairs, at no point did I feel like I had woken up.”

  Isaac knew what he hinted at and searched for the right thing to say. The last thing he wanted to do was belittle his feelings, but at the same time, he didn’t want to entertain his thoughts that it could have been real either. He stroked the back of his son’s head. “It is possible you could have been sleep walkin’, and then you woke up when I came to your room.”

  “I knew you wouldn’t believe me,” he grumbled, ducking away from his hand, and looked back out the window.

  Isaac’s heart sank. He didn’t want his son to assume that he was alone in this. All they had were each other. His hand dropped to his shoulder. “It’s not that I don’t believe you. I think what you experienced was very real. It was just a very real dream.”

  “I don’t know, dad,” he said, his tone rising, “I’ve always been told these were dreams but the older I get I’m beginning to think that they aren’t. And you not believing me makes me feel crazy!”

  Isaac’s jaw fell to his lap. Micah rarely raised his voice at his father. He fought to keep a scowl from forming, and in an attempt to remain calm, exhaled to relieve the tension in his voice. “So what are you tryin’ to tell me? That these things are real?”

  “Forget it.”

  His eyes clamped shut to harness every ounce of patience he had left. The petulant, ‘nobody gets me’ pity party Micah was throwing didn’t sit well. “I just want to get your side of it. What do you think is goin’ on, then? I promise to be open-minded.”

  He whipped his head around with squinted eyes, studying his every move. “You promise?”

  “Promise.”

  “Fine, I- I’ve thought maybe ghosts or demons.”

  Before Micah verbalized his fears, he’d already had a strong indication as to what his thoughts circled around, but his child-like voice admitting it out loud alarmed him more than he had expected. Because his son kept a close eye on his reaction, his expression remained as neutral as possible as he tucked his hair behind his ears. “Ok, then.”

  Even though Isaac was a spiritual man, he never placed much stock in ghosts or demonic spirits. He believed that once someone dies they pass on and raised Micah to believe the same. Where is this comin’ from?

  “I know how you feel about that, so that was hard for me to tell you. And usually they don’t try to bother me, but this one did.”

  Isaac’s heart sank further. “Micah, I don’t want you to ever think that you can’t tell me somethin’. I may not agree with you, but you can always talk to me. I will always support you.”

  A wary smile formed on his face. “Ok, dad.”

  He glanced at the clock again. “Let’s drop it for now. Our movie starts in a few. We can talk about it later, but I promise you, I would never let anythin’ hurt you, ok?”

  Micah nodded resignedly. “Ok.”

  * * *

  The quiet in the cab of the car on the ride to Benjamin’s condo seemingly pounded inside her head. It could have been because their minds had settled into a fog from the food coma, but there was no denying that Benjamin’s thoughts now wrapped around something particular. Beads of sweat glistened on his forehead as he stared at the road, and his hands clutched the steering wheel as if it would roll away from him. He had been so casual and relaxed all evening, and now, all of a sudden, tension plagued him.

  Alyx had too many glasses of wine to be in a full blown panic, but anxiety swelled inside at the thought of him possibly proposing. She placed her hand on his leg and gazed out the window at the passing cars. She still held hope that his mind remained miles away from nuptials, but it had now begun to shrivel like a deflated balloon to make room for the growing concern. When she swallowed, a lump formed in her throat and her eyes welled with tears. The thought of hurting him if she had to refuse a proposal tonight was too much to bear. She drew in a steadying breath and let it out slowly. I need to keep it together.

  They pulled into the underground garage of his condominium and parked close to the elevators. He lived in a newly built complex in the heart of midtown, which consisted of two high rise concave-shaped buildings with aqua tinted windows. Benjamin was only one of a few tenants to purchase their expensive, posh units. The poor economy didn’t allow for many million dollar condos to be sold.

  When they approached the door of his swanky abode on the eleventh floor, Benjamin motioned for her to walk in front of him. His keys jingled as he unlocked the door, and he let it swing wide to make their way in.

  She smiled at him suspiciously and stepped into the foyer, where the delicate smell of vanilla and lilacs welcomed her along with the glowing flickers of hundreds of tea light candles. They cascaded down the hallway and into the living room, casting shadows against the walls as they seemingly danced to the music that streamed from his speakers. Melodic notes whirled through the air from his favorite composer, Max Bruch.

  She covered her mouth. “Benjamin…” she breathe
d.

  Hypnotized, she followed the candles’ path, the momentary enchantment causing her to forget what this would mean. She stopped when she reached the edge of the living room rug. A small, teal box with a white ribbon awaited her on his coffee table. Tiffany’s.

  The bottom of her dress swooshed as she whirled around to face him.

  His hands were shaking, but sure, and he lifted them to take hers from her mouth. The anxiety from the car swelled to desperation, and the lump returned to her throat, which had grown to the size of an ostrich egg.

  “Alyx,” he said tenderly. “From the moment I met you, I knew you and I were meant to be together. I’ve never met anyone like you. You’re beautiful, you’re funny, compassionate, and many other qualities that I adore.

  He let go of her hands to pick up the teal box, and the ribbon quivered as he placed it into her sweaty palm. “There is something I want to ask of you.”

  Certain that her unease didn’t show, she remained motionless as she stared at it in half wonder, half shock.

  “Well, open it, babe.”

  As though she were outside of her body, she watched as a spectator as her fingers pulled the satin ribbon apart and slid the top of the box off. Within its velvety interior rested a silver key attached to a heart-shaped keychain.

  Wait… a key chain? She blinked furiously to make sure her eyes didn’t deceive her.

  “In case you haven’t figured it out yet, I would love for you to share my home with me,” he said, helping her along.

  She hadn’t thought of this possibility. Not once. She wasn’t even sure how she felt about it but knew she needed to say something. She peered up at his sparkling, blue eyes that awaited a reaction, but she didn’t know what to say. Her mouth opened, but she couldn’t find the words. “I, uh-I-”

  As she stumbled over her words, the notes from the music rose to a climax. The symbols crashed through the speakers and into her eardrums. A tremble rolled through her from the bottom of her feet, shaking her body, sending her head into violent spin. She cupped her forehead with her hand, and her knee gave in, her body dipping to the right.

  Fast as lightening, he grabbed her by the arm and scooted one of his wingback chairs behind her. Once she rested comfortably in the chair, the physician in him emerged, and he knelt in front of her, pressing his fingers against her wrist to check her pulse. Lines of worry etched their way across his forehead as he deliberated on what to do next.

  She sucked in a heavy, vanilla-scented breath to prevent her anxiety from turning into a full blown panic attack. “I-I’m fine. I think I forgot to breathe,” she admitted shyly.

  Benjamin grinned with relief and ran his hand over her forearm. “So, it took your breath away?”

  “Something like that,” she replied and forced a swallow.

  Her eyes raked over the glowing candles around the room, the visual truly mesmerizing like a sea of stars. Her gaze moved back to him, where he earnestly awaited a response. Even though his proposal that night didn’t involve marriage, it was still an offer to commit and anything but a “yes” would hurt his pride. Nonetheless, she couldn’t tell him that.

  Her insides twisted as the beginning of his speech echoed through her mind. From the moment I met you, I knew you and I were meant to be together. It had taken her a lot longer to warm to the idea of being in a relationship than it did for him, and she now felt an explicit guilt over it. Not to mention, she also had some unfinished business with her ‘painter man’. She certainly couldn’t move in with Benjamin and continue to do what she had been doing, and she certainly couldn’t have a relationship with her ‘painter man’.

  The answer seemed all too obvious now. The time had come for her to cut ties with what had pulled her heart in another direction for the past three months. Her self-control would be put to the test, but she needed to forsake those nighttime visits so her and Benjamin could have a real chance. She owed it to the both of them.

  She brushed his cheek with the back of her fingers. “Of course I will, however…

  Replacing his grin, a puzzled frown tainted his handsome face.

  “I don’t know that I’m ready quite yet. Can I get a little bit of time?”

  If she let go of her rooftop nights, it would take more than one romantic evening to get her head in the right place. Months of allowing her heart to dwell with her ‘painter man’ demanded more attention than that.

  As the hurt registered on his face, his shoulders slumped with defeat, and his eyes dropped to the floor between them. He hadn’t taken it well. “I went through this in my mind a thousand times and agonized over if you would be ready,” he said and took her hand in his own again. “I know we’ve only been together a year.

  As he confessed his worries, Alyx wondered if he had sensed her recent disconnect that she so laboriously fought to hide. Perhaps her forbidden desires were so potent they practically oozed from her pores, the scent recognizable to those whom it might eventually hurt.

  He pushed from the floor and leaned in to kiss her. “But if you need time, that’s what you’ll get.”

  When their lips met, his parted only slightly. The night’s events didn’t unfold like he had expected them to, and rejection wasn’t a feeling he often entertained.

  Guilt snuck its way in to replace her now dwindling anxiety, and she pulled away from his kiss. “I’m so sorry, Benjamin!” she cried, her eyes filling with tears, “that wasn’t what you wanted to hear tonight. This was so wonderful, the dinner, the candles-”

  “Oh, babe,” he whispered and wiped the first mascara-stained tear away with his thumb, “don’t apologize. That’s one of your many traits I’m so fond of, honesty.

  Honesty? she thought. She hadn’t exactly been the picture of that lately; all the more reason to stop what she had been up to.

  “I’m the one that should feel bad, not you,” he continued. “I put all of this pressure on you. We should have talked about it before now.”

  She couldn’t help but agree with him there. However, she didn’t want to talk anymore. Shining with mischief, her eyes wandered to the floor in front of the fireplace. “We do still have all of these candles,” she purred. “And the rug over there in front of the fireplace looks quite comfortable if you know what I mean.”

  A smile reanimated his face, and he leaned back in for another kiss. When his lips pressed into hers this time, he released a soft moan. His gusto had returned.

  He lifted her from the chair and placed her on the white, shag rug. As he turned the key to the gas fireplace, she imagined turning her own key to the cage of her desires for her ‘painter man’, locking away the lion that she had set loose earlier that morning, back in its cage where it rightfully belonged.

  * * *

  Early Monday morning, the alarm on Alyx’s phone reminded her that the beginning of another work week awaited her. She turned it off and tossed it onto the bed beside her. Her searching fingertips grazed over the cold indention Benjamin had left when his pager buzzed during the night, calling him into another emergency surgery. If his nimble fingers cut into someone right now, she hoped their escapades in the living room that moved to the kitchen and finally the bedroom were enough to distract him from his initial disappointment.

  Wrapping the black, Egyptian cotton sheet around her shoulders, she shuffled to his walk-in closet. She had left a pair of slacks and a work blouse at his condo last weekend. The metal hangers screeched along the rod as she slung them side to side, but the only clothes of hers amongst the suits and scrubs were a pair of jean shorts and a pink polo shirt. Neither were work appropriate.

  She pulled the sheet tight with one hand and lifted the train with the other to head for the living room. She would have to wear her gown home and change there. When she opened the door, Benjamin’s housekeeper Roberta cleaned candle wax from the hardwood floors on her hands and knees, returning his typically pristine apartment back to normal.

  “Morning, Roberta!”

  “Good mor
ning, Mija,” she replied with an approving grin. Apparently, she was also in on his little secret. “Do you need something?”

  “Yes, actually I do. Have you seen any of my work clothes around here?”

  Roberta stood and dusted her pants as she thought. “Oh, si!” she said, her finger pointing in the air, “a blue blouse and some grey pants?”

  “Yes!”

  She wiped the sweat from her brow and hurried toward the hallway. “They’re hanging in the hall closet. I had them dry cleaned on Monday.”

  “I’ll get them, don’t worry about it,” Alyx insisted, stepping into her path, “you already have your hands full.”

  Roberta pulled her into her side, her round cheek resting against her arm. “Gracias!”

  * * *

  The cab dropped Alyx off in front of the office building, and she flicked her wrist to check the time on her watch. Six thirty. She didn’t have to be at work for another hour so there was plenty of time to walk to the coffee shop.

  Staying as close to the light posts as possible, she made her way down the sidewalk and took a right onto Peachtree Street. As she approached the next intersection, the hairs on the back of her neck stood on end. Not again, she thought, and a chill crept up her spine.

  Heavy footsteps beat down on the concrete behind her, and she peered over her shoulder to see who they belonged to. Her stomach jumped into her chest. The man from the elevator last Friday was hot on her heels in the same black suit, staring straight ahead. Stay calm, it’s just a coincidence. Her arm pinned her purse against her side, and she broke into speed walk, thankful that her heels had straps on them today.

  A couple of hasty steps later, she rounded the corner onto Eighth Street, and the hairs laid flat. She glanced over her shoulder again. He was gone, as though he had vanished into thin air. What?!

  The only thing that remained of his presence was the tingling of her scar, which had magnified this time, almost a sting.

  Her pace slowed to a stroll, and her eyes darted around the dark streets. She contemplated peering around the corner to see if he had changed directions, but fear kept her feet in motion.