Scales: Book 1 of the Fate and Fire Series

by Amity Green

  After a series of three rings of the doorbell, each a little longer and more impatient, the thick door finally swung open. A gust of cold, conditioned air blasted me. I would never forget the tall, elderly man who stood in the doorway. Shining blue eyes gazed from a gently lined face. Thin hair stood in a military cut atop his head. He wore a long-sleeved, button-down shirt rolled back at the wrists to expose suntanned skin and shiny gold watch I imagined cost as much as a new Prius. A pair of distressed, loose fitting jeans with beige deck shoes completed his outfit just right, even at his advanced age.

  I stared. The man had been extremely handsome in his day. He still was. He smiled easily at me with the smile of someone who naturally grasped sincerity. Some people just had that quality.

  “How can I help you, young lady?” He continued to grin.

  I had to work hard to shake off the charm. I checked myself. This man had denied me. Adopted my brother and stole him from me in the process. He could smile all he wanted while I grilled him long enough to find my brother.

  If Robbie was inside the house right then, it would’ve been perfect. Or maybe he attended University of Texas and would be home soon. I would be reunited with my brother and this guy could go play on his boat undoubtedly tethered in a private slip in the lakefront backyard while I basked in the glory of rebuilding a precious piece of my life.

  I had to be a bulldog.

  “Hi, Mister Thomlinson?” I waited a split second and went on without his response. “My name is Tessa Conley. I’m looking for Robbie Conley.” I flashed the photo at him. “He is my brother.”

  The smile faded.

  I held steady, not knowing what to expect since I was actually having that conversation with the man. I bit the inside of my cheek to hold my focus. Bulldog, remember?

  “Won’t you come inside, please.”

  Gotta love that Southern hospitality.

  His smile was replaced by practiced stoicism. Lines on his face became clearer. Deeper. I’d mistaken them for laugh lines, crow’s feet from smiling in the sun. The deeper lines were etched by grief, like the faces on the cover of National Geographic when the photojournalist was working in a poor, third-world country.

  A small sense of dread churned the nerves in my stomach as I stepped inside to follow him to a den in the depths of the sprawling home.

  The walls were hung with tastefully matched picture frames that complemented various still shots from the days in the life of a man and his son.

  “Can I offer you a cold glass of sweet tea? Looks like you were walking and, well, I know it’s a hot one today.” He tried a smile once more, but it lacked the radiance of the one he greeted me with.

  “I’m fine, thanks. I won’t take much of your time. I need to be put in touch with my brother.”

  A triangle shaped, military flag case caught my attention from above a fireplace mantle. I tore my gaze away quickly and looked a little closer at some portraits on the wall. A young man in a blue military uniform stared from an eight-by-ten, jaw locked, familiar copper-brown eyes intense beneath a gleaming white cover. Dread worked toward full-blown foreboding. The face in the picture held a flawless kindred nature to mine.

  “You two could’ve passed for twins.” Mr. Thomlinson splashed a drink from a decanter. “Call me Ben.”

  “Ben,” I tried limply. The gusto that carried me there rapidly deserted me. Something was horribly wrong. I knew, deep in that place inside my heart, the place I worked so hard to protect on any other day, that I was getting ready to get hurt. What would he think if I made a break for the door? I would sprint to the bus stop and catch the Metro back home. Forget this whole, bad idea. He’d said “could’ve.” Past tense. I went numb on the outside while I panicked on the inside.

  “It happened in Afghanistan, last year.” He downed a healthy swig from the tumbler. “The vehicle he was operating rolled over an IED. They told me it was instant.” The remainder of his drink was gone and replaced in practiced routine.

  “Was he a Marine?” The impeccable uniform matched those from the television commercials where the men saluted proudly, sword in white-gloved hand.

  “Still is. He guards the streets of Heaven. Once a Marine, always a Marine.” The pride in his statement stabbed at my heart. I glanced to a framed certificate stating Robert Donald Thomlinson was Honorably Discharged from the Department of the Navy and United States Marine Corps.

  “You wanted a son, but not a daughter?” I blurted the question. My subconscious demanded action so I didn’t stand still waiting for some other horrible thing to happen. I’d already started to cry. The events hadn’t matched up to my expectations. The new hope was shattered, each tear a shard.

  “We were introduced to both of you kids and, well, I know there was no question we’d take you both.” He stepped closer to the cold fireplace. “But then you got sick with that fever and convulsions. My poor Emma, God rest her soul, well, I know she was crushed. The adoption process was stopped for you and they wouldn’t hear any argument we gave. They wouldn’t let us have you.” He ran a fingertip lovingly across the top of a framed photo on the mantle. “Emma was broken hearted over it.”

  Aged fingers grazed the cheek of a bride gazing up at a young Ben Thomlinson. There was no question the woman lived for her groom. Affection glowed in her eyes and young Ben’s gaze mirrored the emotion. Love like that was forever.

  “We went ahead with the adoption process, but only with Robbie. You weren’t expected to pull through that coma and we were not given the go ahead to adopt you because we couldn’t finish up the meetings with you. We checked in with the workers at the adoption office a lot. We made them promise to call the second there was any change in your condition.”

  My breath locked in my throat. “Coma?” I croaked. Did he mean I was in a coma?

  “You were so little, really just a baby still. The Home did the right thing and called me when you’d come back from the sickness, but by that time Emma had passed.” His hand dropped from the mantle, falling to his side. He tipped his glass, swallowing hard. “I was a wreck trying to console Robbie and keep up with him when she passed, along with dealing with my own grief at losing my beautiful wife, after our family had been made complete.”

  I flinched. “Complete.” Their family had been whole. Without me.

  “I knew there was no way I could care for a little girl.” He searched my face, gazing from eye to eye. “And I could barely care for Robbie at that point. When I told him about his momma passing away, he got real quiet. The poor kid had just stopped asking to see you in the hospital about a month before Emma’s accident. And well, I guess losing her and you were just too much. He quit asking, and I let him forget.”

  “You let him forget me?” I was stunned. I watched him fill his glass again. It was unforgivable. The decision that mapped my life was made by a man who’d chosen to let his emotional defeat create my loneliness. “How could you do something so thoughtless? I’ve been at that home ever since. It’s the only place I’ve ever known.” I clenched my teeth against heartache. I was crying hard and I couldn’t stop.

  “He’s gone now,” he said, drinking. “Imagine how hurt you’d have been when he was killed.”

  “I would have had you!” I yelled. “I wouldn’t be alone. I would have had my brother and a father for … all my life until then!” I felt my soul fracture into pieces, trying to claw its way out through my chest. I hated everything. I wanted to leave and to die.

  Ben’s eyes held tears.

  I was happy about that. Anger crept in front of sadness, helping me pull myself together. Slightly.

  I’d somehow managed to apologize to Ben for his losses that day. I didn’t know if I meant it. I didn’t know what else to say, years after the fact, and my day had switched up so horribly. I’d been ready to meet my brother, and if that would have happened, if the “forces that were” would have allowed me one speck of grace that day, Ben could’ve remained a side note, and I likely would have told
him how bad it hurt me to be discounted. I wanted to scream at him for hours about how my heart shattered, blow by blow as he spoke of his decision not to bring me into his life after the death of his wife. It didn’t seem worth the time because I truly never wanted to see the man again. Ever.

  My being there would have helped ease his suffering if nothing else, instead he’d concentrated on evading a potential burden. The icing on the figurative cake was that he admitted to allowing the only family I had on the planet to forget about me. Thinking about that changed tears of sadness to tears of anger. I wished bad things for Ben as I thought about it. I was happy he’d suffered and his heart hurt. I secretly wished he cried every day, missing his wife and my brother. And I hated that I felt justified in wanting him to have that sort of pain, when I was suffering that way, too.

  I left his house without looking back at the place. While I’d been inside, a thunderstorm cast the sky in grey. Light drizzle fell, upgrading to full-blown rain drops while I walked. It was a blessing. No one would see my tears through the rain. I raged against my decision to look into the records room. Finding that photo had done nothing but get my hopes up. My body reacted to the surge of emotion by overheating even though rained soaked me as I walked. I felt like a glowing cinder, and I wanted to burn everything around me to the ground. It was the worst day of my life and I’d shared each painful detail with my best friend.

  And Brea had been forced to tell my story to Kai and his minion. I glared at Kai, on the seat with me. “I disagree,” I said, realizing too late I’d been staring out the window for quite a while.

  “About what?” he sounded disturbed at my audacity to think on my own. His look asked, “How dare I disagree?”

  “You harmed her by making her talk about me. She must be crushed.” Sadness tugged at my features, so I turned away. Brea had to feel turmoil, she’d betrayed me on top of being kidnapped.

  “You love her,” he said gently.

  “Like a sister.”

  “Stop kidding yourself, Tessa.”

  I looked at him sharply. “Kidding myself?”

  Kai leaned in so close that I could smell the herby, spicy scent of his skin. “We all know you have not a damn clue what it feels like to have a sister. Or a brother for that matter. Saying you love that … person like a sister is a stretch and you know it.”

  His words stung with truth. No matter how much I tried to glorify my friendship with Brea, she would never really be my sister. She’d never be a replacement for a family. I loathed that he knew intimate parts of me, of my life. I bit back tears and took a breath to get past his intently cruel words, not willing to betray the way he’d affected me. I huffed, resorting to sarcasm, feeling around inside my head for some anger to play off of.

  “You’re not doing much to win me over to the Dark Side, there big guy.”

  He laughed. “Since our little ‘episode’ in the alley, I’ve decided it may take a bit more than compelling you to my side.”

  “Episode?” I sounded just as pissy as I felt. So far, the highlight of my day had been smacking his stoolie. The day had gone downhill from there.

  “I attempted coercion with you that day, and it simply didn’t work.” He looked at me, curiously.

  “Good.” I retorted. Served him right. “Don’t forget the part where you lied to me about being a gargoyle. I was wary of you before, but now, after kidnapping and hurting my best friend, and lying, I’ll never trust a word you say. And I’m thrilled your little magic tricks won’t work on me.”

  “You think so? You vomited, instead. I had to search the damned United States and all of Heathrow Airport to steal the only person on the planet you’re fond of, push at her fluffy little mind for a few days and make her cry because you didn’t succumb to my compelling you. Still good?”

  “I really don’t like you.”

  “Yet.” He added.

  “It won’t work on me.”

  “We shall see.”

  “So, what, I’ll have to stay like, hypnotized forever to be around you? That makes you the biggest creeper in the world.”

  He laughed again. “Hypnosis is not even in the same arena as the magic I have, Tessa. You’ll not only like me, you’ll love and adore me. Hang on my every word.”

  “Don’t count on it.”

  He sounded so confident, his words chilled me. The possibility of my free will being taken was eerie. And how dare he discount the way I felt about my best friend?

  “Talk me down all you want about the way I feel about Brea, Kai. Say what you want about me being an orphan. But know this,” I leaned forward. “No matter what you do with your little magic spells, I will never, truly and willfully want to be with you. Ever.” I turned back to the window.

  “And Peter? Do you want to be with him?” He said, whisper elevated into a casual speaking voice. I guessed it was okay with him if Petra got to hear all about Peter. She seemed fascinated with him when she’d trashed the bookstore.

  “Who’s Peter?” I deadpanned. Of course he knew Peter, I just hoped there was no way he knew anything about Peter and me. Kai had more ammunition than he needed already. “Really, that guy’s hardly my type. He’s just something to keep me occupied till I can find a way to get out of here.”

  Petra snorted in the front seat, shaking her head. I ignored her.

  He laughed again, deep and musically. I loathed him for that.

  The meager solace of my window provided minimal comfort from such touchy conversation. I’d never been a hateful person. Matter of fact, I took steps, even made excuses for people, to avoid letting hate into my life. Where Kai was concerned, I welcomed the target for my anger.

  We drove for hours into the English countryside. I put up my hood and tried to take up the least amount of room on the seat as possible. I couldn’t wait until I didn’t have to sit next to him anymore. Didn’t have to smell him or hear his voice. They were too pleasant to belong to such a dirt bag. I wondered if those things were part of the “magic” he bragged about. It was like he was doing it on purpose to make me want to be close to him. Maybe I needed to get a better understanding of his power over people.

  Allowing myself to hate meant I’d changed. I’d begun mourning the loss of myself, and just when I’d tried to accept living at the bookstore. At least there I was trying to be myself, as best I could given what I had to work with. I could enjoy a little bit of London. I ran a lot, read, wrote, and found something to smile about every day, despite the scales. Possibly, I’d begun to love. And Kai had taken me away from Peter, as well. I should never have let myself fall for Peter. I wouldn’t have been hurting so bad thinking about losing him.

  I fogged up my window with angry, hot tears.

  We drove on and it seemed like forever. I watched the driver’s gloved hands maintain the wheel and flawlessly shift the car for miles. I looked around the cockpit. On any other occasion I’d be thrilled to be on a long ride in such a magnificent car. Instead, I couldn’t quit thinking about how lost I was.

  So many hours travelling north had to put us deep into Scotland. The sun peaked through a pouting sky at times, but for the most part, the day was another typical, dreary, sometimes drizzly day in the UK. A kaleidoscope of several shades of green covered the hills, so vivid the brilliant hues shone through the dark tint of the auto glass. A monstrous bridge spanned a huge bay and as we crossed the expanse, the stealthy car’s shadow bounced from blue to black wave below us.

  I’d had to pee to the point of cramps for what seemed like over an hour so when we pulled into a station I got out without asking, shouldered my bag and headed inside. The air was thick and chilled, heavily laden with salt from the sea. The driver fueled the car and talked with Petra. She eyed me when I walked past. As if I’d be running away when those people had taken my best friend. That was genius. And I didn’t know what she thought she was going to be able to do if I tried to take off. I felt we’d established an agreement. She may have been bigger than me, but I had a wh
ole lifetime of pissed-off energy waiting for an excuse to jump, hair-trigger quick.

  When I came out of the stall, Petra was examining her purple lip and swollen nose in the mirror, scrubbing dried blood away with a paper towel. Without the busted up face, she was very pretty. Her skin had a natural, suntanned quality that made her hazel eyes glow. She had one of those youthful, classic looks, like a model at Abercrombie and Fitch. Where I was kind of pretty, Petra was beautiful. She stood over me by at least four inches. I’d been too angry to notice those things before. I almost felt a little guilty, looking at her then. Almost.

  She still shouldn’t have poked at me earlier. The secret was out like headlines in the National Enquirer. Everyone knew I’d grown up in an orphanage. Most people would have put two and two together to figure I wasn’t afraid to throw down. I didn’t care if she looked like a sweet, girl-next-door. She tried to be cruel and I felt victimized. She’d brought out the worst.

  Petra stepped away when I approached to use the sink.

  “Looking good.” I winked.

  She glared.

  “You have to know by now that I’m not the one that changed you, right?”

  Petra looked away.

  “So now that that’s all cleared up, why do you have it in for me?” I dried my hands, watching her in the mirror. “I mean, you don’t even know me.”

  “Think you have it all figured out then, do you?” she snapped, shaking her head. “So vain, thinking it’s all about you. I’d not mind if you fell off the earth, never to be heard from. I don’t want to know you.” Her stuffy British lilt amplified the hate.

  “Piss off.” If she wanted to be snotty she could knock herself out. I pulled the door open, flipped the light switch down as if no one remained in the restroom, and went back to the Aston.