False Facades (Best Sellers: Best Romance/Humor )

by Martha Greenwood

  Marvin grumbled, but he led the others back.

  Sammy stared up at Katherine, eyes widened. "Mrs. Grenford, why -?"

  "I've decided that you're too much of a bad influence on Vincent and you must be dealt with now, before the effect becomes permanent. You must vanish from his life forever."

  Her mouth went dry. "What? Are – are you going to kill me?"

  "What?" A flicker of annoyance darted through the gray, stony eyes. "No. Don't be silly."

  "Then what –"

  "I don't know. Frankly, I don't care."

  "Huh?"

  "Ladies always have assistants to do their dirty work, Sam. You should know that." Yet another voice made its presence – this time, from behind her and it was all too familiar.

  Numbing chill and horror swept across her body from the center of her gut, dispersing along her veins until her blood ran cold. Her fingers trembled as she slowly looked over her shoulder. Uncle Frank stood in the shade of a gnarly tree, a small smile of victory playing on his lips. He moved forward and she quickly scrambled backward.

  "Frank, I expect you know what to do to deal with him. I just don't want him to see Vincent ever again, but you know –" Katherine looked down at Sammy, a brief moment of hesitation in her eyes. Sammy gazed up pleadingly, but resolve tightened the woman's jaw and she looked away. "- use discretion. No deaths. No unnecessary pain. Just get him away from this place. Gone."

  Frank chuckled and the sound sent Sammy nearly hyperventilating. "No worries, Mrs. Grenford. I always use discretion."

  Katherine nodded slowly, before turning around. Sammy paled when she realized that the woman was leaving. Leaving her alone with him. Sammy flew up to her feet and tried to run to Katherine before she was yanked backward against Frank's chest. He hissed into her ear, his breath making her recoil. "Where do you think you're going, Samantha?"

  Her voice croaked as she started yelling. "Please, Mrs. Grenford! You don't understand! I'm really a girl! My name is Samantha Westlane. I'm an orphan. This man's my uncle. He – he took me in and he – he abused me. That's – that's why I ran away –" Frank growled as he tried to clap his hand over her mouth. She twisted away. "Please! You've got to help me! Vincent knows all about this! They're all helping me! Please, don't let him take me away. I – I can't bear to go back to that hellhole. Please . . ." She was hiccupping harshly, tears running down her cheeks and her whole body quavering with fear, panic, shock. After all this time, she thought she could finally make it. How could this happen?

  Her lips trembled and she stared at the back of the woman, willing her to understand. "Please, Mrs. Grenford, I know you want the best for Vincent. I know you really want to be a real mother to him. I know that you love him! But you must know that what you're doing now is wrong! If you let my uncle take me away, everything will be – I – my life will be over. I will die."

  Katherine stopped walking and Sammy held her breath, hoping against all hopes, drilling her eyes into the back of Vincent's mother.

  "Mrs. Grenford, don't listen to this little liar," Frank protested, laughing weakly. "You can't honestly –"

  "Frank . . ."

  "Yes?"

  The hollow, distant sounds of the rustling of trees, the scratchy skittering of leaves, and the birds' cries enforced a sense of an impenetrable vacuum.

  Katherine heaved a sigh. "Use your discretion." Sammy's heart sank. "Your family is . . . your business." Sammy sagged. "Above all things, I have to protect my own." The neat and properly groomed woman tilted her head slightly to the side as if about to turn around. She stopped and shook her head before walking away.

  Sammy sobbed wretchedly as her last remaining hope disappeared off into the shadows.

  Frank whispered in a mockingly tender voice. "Oh, my sweet darling, how I've missed you."

  Her back went ramrod stiff. "Yeah?" She murmured.

  "Yes. You want to know how much I've missed you?" His fingers started to trail along the sides of her hips as he pressed his nose against her red hair, dragging in a deep sniff of her fragrance.

  "Not really. I'd rather show you how much I missed you." She jerked her head back and smashed it against his nose in a Marvin-like defense Round II. Then she spun around, dropped low, kneed him in his gut and smashed her fist against his chin just as he doubled over.

  Okay. End of her Training class moves. Time to run.

  Sammy darted around him and started dashing for her life, her tears drying on her cheeks and her fist smarting at the knuckles. She had probably scraped some skin off, but please, please let her be able to cry over it later in the safety of her dorm with Vince, Tristan, Will, anybody but Uncle Frank.

  She heard a loud roar of outrage and crashing footsteps closing in behind her and her breath quickened as she tried to run faster. Oh no. Oh no. OhnoOhnoOhnoOhnoOhno. Please. Somebody! Vincent! Please please please please. She leapt over some fallen branches, darting in and out around the trees, praying she wouldn't trip and fall like those victims in the horror movies. Please please please please please. Her muscles ached and her breath was harsh and loud, her heart beating too fast to be good. Please please please please please please please please please. She could see the grassy lawn in front of her. Just a few more steps to safety. Back inside. Vincent. Vincent. Vincent. I have to see him. Help. Help. "HELP!" She screamed as she reached the outer perimeter. "HELP! SOME –"

  Something smashed into the back of her head and sent her sprawling. What the – Pain ricocheted inside of her skull as she tried to crawl forward, pull herself up, do anything that would bring her closer to the school, to Vincent and away from Frank.

  A hand clamped onto her shoulder and turned her over, her head spinning with pain when it hit the ground again. Frank's weight pressed her into the dirt and she tried to scream again, but his hand covered her mouth and smothered her cries. She shook in disgust at the feel of his oily hand touching her and she tried to bite him. He grimaced and slapped her. The pain doubled with a vengeance.

  She thrashed, trying to kick upward. I have to hit him where it hurts the most. Get him off. Get him off. Get him off. Please please please please . . .

  He sat on her legs and held her arms tight with one hand. He panted hard, grinning maliciously. Picking up a heavy looking branch that was soaked dark at one end, he crooned, "Looks like fate's on my side today. Who knew my aiming was that good? Got you in one try."

  That was when she realized that the branch was dark and slick with her blood. She closed her eyes tight, a tear squeezing out of the corner, and whimpered as she realized that she had finally lost.

  "That's a good girl. Now I don't want to hurt you anymore so –"

  He pulled his hand away and she opened her mouth to shout just as a cloth covered her face. Her eyes widened and she jerked around again, trying to throw him off. He shook his head at her and caressed her cheeks with his fingers as he murmured, "Just go to sleep now, my precious. I'll take you home and we can be together again. Just you and me."

  Her head thrashed against the ground, her blood matting her hair and mingling with the dirt and blades of grass. Her lungs burned for air and her eyes watered as she tried not to breathe. Somebody please help . . . please . . . please . . . Vince . . .

  Frank's eyes darkened with rage and tightened his hand over the cloth. "Damn it! Breathe, bitch!"

  Tears trickled down her cheeks as she dragged in involuntary gulps of the sickly-sweet odor of chloroform. Her vision started wavering, her limbs went limp, and a heavy grogginess swept over her. She blinked slowly, trying to regain focus and she glared piercingly up at her uncle.

  He snarled, "Don't give me that stupid look like your brother did."

  What? Terry . . . he's . . . Her heart seemed to be pounding in her ears, a slowing pace that lulled her to a terrifyingly peaceful darkness and all was lost.

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Tristan scooted up against the headboard of his bed, his left leg dangling off the edge of the mattress. He flip
ped open the cover of the Heart of Darkness by Joseph Conrad and his eyes perused the first couple of sentences before he realized that he was squinting again. He dropped the book and sighed. Rubbing the bridge of his nose, he pulled open his drawer and rummaged around for his case. Neatly extracting a pair of thin framed eyeglasses, he shook the ear stems open with one hand and slipped it on.

  It wasn't so much that he purposely kept his need for glasses a secret from the others – just that he felt it really didn't matter anyway and that it really wasn't any of their business. So his glasses remained buried in his drawer, pulled out for those rare cases when Tristan's eyes got especially tired.

  He resumed his reading with his glasses perched snugly on his nose when a loud thump at the door reverberated across the room.

  BANG! BANG! BANGBANGBANGBANGBANG –

  "What?" Tristan snapped as he jerked the door open.

  Vincent blinked at him. The dark haired boy was in a disturbing state of disarray, his hair tousled as if he had ran his hands through it one time too many and his eyes bleary. When he saw Tristan, his grey eyes turned blazing. He opened his mouth to speak and then a startled look swept across his face as he stared over the boy's shoulder. Without a word, he shot past Tristan and stood in the middle of the room, turning around and around.

  Tristan caught his balance and his eyebrows arched in annoyance. "What the hell is the matter with you? Finally lost the other half of your brain?"

  Vincent ignored him. "Sammy? Sammy? Are you here?"

  Tristan held his arms open. "Vincent. This is the whole room, so unless she's hiding in one of the closets – HEY!"

  The boy had stalked across the room to the wardrobes and was busy yanking the doors open.

  "What the hell is wrong with you? Do you think I'm smuggling Sammy away or something?"

  Vincent tensed up, his hands still on the knobs of the door. The gaping darkness of the closet greeted him. No Sammy.

  The boy just kept standing there and as Tristan watched the ramrod stiff back, a sense of uneasiness began to sweep over him. "Vincent?" he spoke hesitantly. "Vince, what's wrong?"

  "She's supposed to be here. It's the last place. She's supposed to be here."

  "What? Is Sammy missing?"

  Vincent slammed the doors closed with a snarl and banged his fists against the surface. "I don't know! She went for a walk like four hours ago, but when I went to look for her, she wasn't anywhere in the usual sites – the alcove, the library, the lounge rooms, everywhere! So I started looking around. Went to Jack and Will's room, but they hadn't seen her. Went back to our room, but she still wasn't there. So I doubled back on my steps and went around the building again. No Sammy. Finally, I decided to come here because it was the last place left and – and Sammy was supposed to be here, eating ice cream with you or something and laughing with you and making me jealous. She's supposed to be here." He glared at Tristan. "Where is she?"

  Tristan shook his head. "I don't know, man. She hasn't been here the whole day. Are you sure you –"

  "Yes. I looked everywhere. She wouldn't go outside."

  Silence loomed over them.

  "Do you think – something – might have happened to her?"

  Vincent didn't speak, but his face was growing steadily paler. His eyes had darkened to a wild, erratic, stormy grey and when he finally spoke, his words were laced with a vibrating tension. "We've got to find her."

  But somehow, even then, the boys knew. Their hearts thudded with a leaden dread. They knew.

  * * *

  "What are we going to do?"

  The clock ticked steadily.

  "What are we going to do?" William repeated. He couldn't seem to keep still, bouncing off the bed and pacing around the room before taking a seat to repeat the whole routine all over again.

  Caine was tapping his fingers against the desk. Tap tap taptap tap tap taptap tap tap tap tap –

  "Can you shut the hell up?" Jack snapped.

  Caine snarled, "I wasn't talking, idiot."

  "Stop making all those stupid noises. You're getting on my nerves."

  "Well, I'm sorry. Why don't you just get out of my room then, huh?"

  "This is a crisis here. Why must you act so immature? Can't you see that we're all –"

  "I'm immature? You pompous little –"

  "Everybody just shut up." Tristan interrupted. His hands ran through his sandy blonde hair. "We don't need this now. Just keep calm and let's think this through."

  William was pacing the room again. "What are we going to do?"

  All eyes were uncontrollably drawn to Vincent. The boy stood with his back toward them, his forehead pressed against the cool window pane and his eyes closed tightly, eyelids crushed in creases. His back was visibly taut, the cords of his muscles rigid.

  "Vincent? You think Frank Westlane kidnapped her?" Tristan asked.

  Silence. "Yeah."

  "So what are we going to do?" William implored once again.

  Another long quiet span. "I don't know."

  "Wh – what? What do you mean you don't know? We have to rescue Sammy, right? We have to save her. We can't let that –"

  Vincent growled through gritted teeth. "I know that. That's a given. But how? Huh? How are we supposed to go about this?"

  There was no answer and he continued.

  A bitter laugh wracked his body. "I mean, hey, can't we all just climb up on some white horses, crash through the windows of his fortress – wherever that is – and heave Sammy up and off we go, trampling that bastard on our way out? Or why don't we just man some fighter jets and drop in on him with a rope ladder, slice away Sammy's bindings, and fly off with him shaking his fist at us? Or – oh, this is my favorite - how about we just get some guns and blast our way through the doors, riddling little bullet holes in his body like some pincushion? I'm sure that'll all work and everything will end up happily ever after, right? Right? Because it always ends like this, right?" His eyes were a silvery sheen and his breaths were coming out in harsh gasps.

  "Vincent –" Caine began.

  "No. Don't. I know what you're all thinking. How come Vincent's being such a useless, whiny bastard? How come he's always had these violent tendencies, but now, in the face of an emergency, he's being a coward? How come he can't even come up with some plan to save his own girlfriend? Just -" The corners of lip twisted grimly. "Just how come?" He jerked his hands through his hair once, twice, three times. "What the hell am I doing?"

  "Vincent – it's not like that – really –" Jack began.

  "Well, I, for one, am glad you're realizing what an idiot you're being," Tristan responded smoothly, his arms folded.

  William gaped. "Tristan! Vincent, don't listen to him. Are you hyperventilating? Just breathe. In. Out. In. Out. Whoosh. Whoosh. In. Out -"

  "No. Listen up, Grenford." Tristan's voice hardened. "You're right. You're acting like some baby. If you're looking for pity, you damn well won't get it from me. If you want to save Sammy, then you think hard and act fast. If you want help, you have us. Just don't sit around moaning and crying because you know that what you're doing helps nobody here – especially Sammy."

  Vincent glowered stonily. "Is that right?" He arched his eyebrow wearily. "Well, that was a nice refreshing slap across the face."

  "It's my specialty," Tristan quipped. The boys managed to smile at each other.

  William forced a laugh. "Aw. Well, what about me? Wasn't I great too?"

  "Yeah. Yeah. You'll make one awesome Lamaze trainer one day."

  "Oh whoop de do." He ran a finger against the spine of a book. "But - so . . . what are we going to do?"

  Vincent stood up and rolled his shoulders. "We're going to go to the headmaster first and notify him about Sammy's disappearance, see if he knows anything, and then –" Feral grimness swept across his face. "Then we're going to track down The Bastard and bring Sammy back home."

  * * *

  Danielle leafed through a magazine absentmindedly with her legs c
urled up underneath her. The front door slammed and it echoed once throughout the house. It was enough.

  Danielle grabbed a stack of business proposals her mother had mandated her to study and shuffled them on top of her leisurely readings. Planting her feet down firmly on the floor, she pushed in her chair and straightened her spine. Her mother spat fire whenever she caught Danielle sitting in any position other than the normal prim and proper, ramrod stiff spine lady pose.

  She picked up a pen just as her mother threw the door to her room open. Danielle blinked at her calmly. "Mother."

  "Danielle."

  "What has you slamming doors all about the house? It's not ladylike to –"

  "Don't teach your grandmother to suck eggs."

  "Wouldn't dare dream of it, Mother."

  "Your brother is crazy."

  "Yes, I've always thought so. It's part of what makes him so special, isn't it?"

  "Danielle."

  "Mother."

  "He is driving me crazy. As his older sister and his future mentor in the family business, you have a responsibility to lead him on the right path, teach him about the world, help him discern darkness from white and –"

  "- save him from all the wicked temptations and sins and guide him on his path to salvation?"

  Katherine stared at her daughter.

  "Amen?" Danielle added.

  Katherine threw up her hands. "Must both my children be so absurd? What have I done to deserve this?"

  "What exactly has Vincent done this time to pique you so, Mother?"

  "He's gone and gotten himself involved with that devil roommate of his."

  Danielle stiffened, but she kept her voice calm. "Sam?"

  "Yes."

  "How do you know –"

  "I just do." The earlier scene in her son's dorm came unbidden in her mind, leaving a bitter taste in her mouth.