The Crimson Hunt

by Smith, Victoria H.

  He glanced my way, saying nothing.

  “It’s just that in your last visit, and today, you’ve been looking like something was on your mind. Do you want to talk about it?” I so hoped he would. I wished we could get back the connection we had when I first arrived.

  He smiled at me and looked back into the setting sun. “You are so very kind, Ariel Richmond, to think about me when you have so much worry already.” He laughed gently.

  “I can’t help it, I guess.” I gave a short laugh. Reaching out my hand, I slid it into his. He let me take it, but I could feel his reluctance.

  “I do not want you to worry about me,” he said, staring at our joined hands. Turning over his, he viewed mine.

  I could tell he wanted to tell me something. He just couldn’t seem to bring himself to.

  “I have to be going again soon. I wish I could stay longer.” His eyes didn’t move from our hands.

  “There’s no way you could … ?” I didn’t bother finishing. I knew the answer would be no again.

  “I am sorry, Ariel.” He turned his gaze to the sun again, looking as if he wanted the light to take the two of us away.

  He was struggling so badly with something. I grew angry at his insistence at keeping me in the dark. “I guess you should probably be going, then.” I yanked my hand from his grasp, making his decision easier for him.

  I felt his eyes on me as I marched to the door. Placing my shaking hand on the doorknob, I stared into the shine. A few seconds passed before I heard him move. When he got to the door, my implacable expression told of his quickly-needed departure. I opened the door and stared blankly at the wall across the hall.

  He stepped out into the hallway and tried to connect with my eyes. “Let me know if—”

  “I need anything,” I finished for him.

  He nodded, then walked down the hallway. When he went around the corner, he left from my sight.

  I closed the door and slid down its wood, the tears of frustration forming in my eyes.

  Chapter Eighteen

  “How does your mom wear these things? The heels are like a million inches long,” I asked. The red stilettos on my feet nearly gave me vertigo I was raised so high off the floor.

  “Take those things off before you kill yourself. Really, A, you astound me with how feminine you are. They’re supposed to make you look chic, not wobbly and ridiculous.” Piper reapplied her second layer of her mother’s prized lipstick. The solid gold tube was encrusted with shining jewels that probably cost more than everything I owned.

  I kicked off the heels. After making sure I placed them in the exact location I found them in the closet, I walked over to the freezing night air of the window. The news said it was the coldest winter that New York City had seen in years that year. I swear, I would never get used to the weather outside of Cali, but it was worth it to come and spend Christmas with Piper and her family. I couldn’t wait to meet her parents. I hoped they liked me.

  “Jesus, A, what the hell are you worried about? Ever since you got here you have either been burning a hole in the floor with your pacing, or daydreaming through a window. Is it that bastard Gordon again? Why haven’t you dumped him already?” She lit a cigarette from the burning candle on her mother’s marble dresser.

  “What the heck are you doing? You can’t smoke in here; your mother will kill you!” Grabbing the cigarette, I walked back to the window, and tossed it into the icy December air.

  “What? She does it all the time behind my dad’s back. And you never answered my question.”

  I checked the back roll of excess fat hiding underneath my green t-shirt through the glass of the uptown window. I couldn’t help but wish I’d worn more layers that day. “No, it’s not Gordon and don’t judge him. He’s going through stuff,” I lied. For some reason I felt I needed to defend his actions.

  “He calls you fat all the time, and he’s cheating on you.” Piper swiveled around in her mom’s dressing table chair, revealing the expanded length of her legs under her micro-mini skirt.

  God, I wished I had her legs. I tried to concentrate on what she just said to me. In my heart, I knew she was right, but honestly, I didn’t think I could do much better than the pimple-faced, ass wipe that was Gordon Trentsen. “Whatever, Piper, just mind your own business.” I tried to hide my distress by staring into the depths of the night. “I guess I’m just worried about meeting your parents.”

  “Why, because they’re assholes?” She snickered.

  I wished she valued what she had more. I would give my left boob to have half of what she had. “Don’t call them that, Pipe. You should be grateful for them … or have you forgotten my stories about the joys of being raised in the foster care system?” Between the beatings and the alcoholism that surrounded me daily in those days, I was surprised I hadn’t ended up in a penitentiary somewhere with the name Big Bertha tattooed on my arm.

  Piper joined me by the window. Giving me a side hug, she rested her chin on my shoulder. “I’m sorry for being insensitive. They will like you just fine. It’s me they can’t stand.” She laughed, but her tone sounded sad.

  “What the hell are you doing in here, Piper Lovelace?”

  Both our heads shot toward the door, meeting the perfectly-Botoxed expression of Nora Lovelace. At first, I couldn’t figure out if she was actually upset or not. The tone in her voice said one thing, but her face, which remained in a solid, stoic expression, said another. “Look at you! Is that my silver eye shadow? You know that came from Paris. The diamonds in the case are worth more than a year of your damn college tuition!”

  Piper tucked me behind her. “Chill out, Mom. It’s not like you can’t afford the loss.”

  Mrs. Lovelace attempted to look around Piper to see whom her daughter protected. “Who the hell is that?”

  My heart leaped into my throat, and I debated jumping out the designer window. I began to see why Piper rarely talked about her parents.

  “This is my friend Ariel from college, something you would have known if you bothered to pay a shred of attention to my life!” Piper shrieked.

  “Get her out of here. You two have no business going through my personal belongings,” said Mrs. Lovelace, her expression still unchanged.

  Before her mother could spit any more insults, Piper dragged me by the arm and took me into the hallway. She flipped her dear mother the bird on her way out.

  “You get back in here, Piper Lovelace. I have a few words to exchange with you!” Mrs. Lovelace called.

  Piper rolled her eyes. “Ariel, just head down to my room. I have a few words to exchange myself.” She winked.

  My head told me to do what she said, but my feet had other ideas. I returned to the master bedroom and cupped my ear against the surface of the door.

  “You have no right to treat me that way. You are the child, or have you forgotten? And in front of strangers, at that!” Mrs. Lovelace’s voice rang clearly through the crack under the door.

  “Whatever, and I can’t believe you would embarrass me like that! Haven’t you done enough damage to my friendships over the years without going out of your way to ruin my college ones as well?”

  “Piper!”

  “Mother!”

  “You do not need to be hanging out with … with ….”

  “With who, Mom? Someone who doesn’t hang out at your high society parties? Someone who doesn’t belong to your country clubs? You don’t know anything about her, and you’re already judging her.”

  “I think I learned enough. She’s at least a size-fourteen.”

  “What does that have to do with anything, you stuck-up bitch?”

  I could feel the heat of the slap as if it were my own.

  “You can forget about studying abroad next year,” Mrs. Lovelace growled.

  Piper loudly choked back tears. “The only thing I have ever wanted from you, you could never give me. Take a look at yourself, Mom. Maybe if you had a few more size fourteens in your life, you might not be such
a horrible person. I hope I never turn out like you. If I do, I will do society a favor and have myself sterilized.” She opened the door before I could run, sending me sliding across the perfectly polish tiles of the floor on my butt.

  Piper walked over to me and smiled, the welt from the slap of her face bright red.

  I gazed up at her in shock. “Why did you do that?” I asked, tears welling in my eyes.

  Piper sat down and wrapped me up in her arms. “Because I’ve always believed that you should stand up for what you believe in.” She wiped my tears away, and for the first time I saw them. She was the strongest person I’d ever met, but I guess even strong girls shed a tear sometimes.

  *

  “She said that?” Bailey stared up at me with wide, awe-filled eyes. I gave her the more G-rated version of the events, not wanting to fill her head with obscenities.

  “She sure did.” I smiled.

  “Wow.” Bailey leaned back against the windowsill and placed her hands behind her head. “She is so cool!”

  “Yeah, my red-headed friend had spirit, that’s for sure.” I laughed.

  “I can’t believe she stood up for you like that. She is so strong. I wish I could stand up to my mom sometimes.” She leaned up, her expression changing into a frown.

  Oh, crap. I didn’t want her going around telling her mom off. “I am by no means saying how she spoke to her mom was all right, but the point of the story was that if you believe in something, you should have the strength to fight for it.” I looked into her sweet face, waiting for what I said to register. After a moment, she nodded.

  “Is that how you are, Ariel? Like her? Ready to stand up for yourself at any moment?”

  Was I? I used to think so, but considering my last few encounters with Luca, I didn’t know anymore. I’d been so withdrawn to fight for answers explaining his quick departures and hesitation of my touch. Was I trying to teach this girl something I didn’t even follow through with myself? I looked at Bailey, the excitement on her face growing with anticipation for my next answer. “I’d like to think so.”

  *

  Later that day, Luca sat on the windowsill with me. He wrote into his ivory journal again, the light reflecting off his dark hair and gorgeous features.

  I watched him, wondering what was going on in his constantly-moving mind. The stress and worry, if possible, were even more evident today. In fact, it had been so long since I’d seen his brilliant smile I began to forget what it looked like, and how it used to make me feel.

  He glanced up from his journal. “What is it you are thinking about, Ariel?”

  I loved how he asked me the very information he, himself, wouldn’t share. I turned my face to the sun, pretending to drift off against the wooden windowsill. “I’m just sleepy, I guess.”

  “Would you like me to leave?”

  I fought against the pleasure his voice still managed to bring me. Playing stoic, I said, “No, you can stay. Your presence doesn’t bother me.” The coldness of my voice surprised even me. The animosity I harbored must have been stronger than I thought.

  The smallest amount of surprise flickered in his eyes, and then it was quickly replaced with understanding. Pursing his lips, he returned his gaze to his journal, not pushing the issue.

  I closed my eyes again, letting the rays take me in.

  “I am going to be away for a few days longer than usual. Things at work have been tying me up. Do you think you can manage while I am away?” he asked.

  I didn’t even bother opening my eyes. I knew he’d be avoiding my gaze, the same as he always did when he kept me in the dark.

  This had to end. It was time to take my own advice.

  “You know what, Luca, I do mind.”

  I wasn’t prepared for the pain that flashed in his eyes at my words, but I couldn’t let that stop me. What I had to say needed to be said.

  “I’ve been here, by myself, for quite a while now. And the whole time, I’ve had to force myself to eat, and fight with myself every night to go to sleep because I’m so fucking scared of what I might see when I close my eyes.”

  My words caught in my throat for mere moments when I saw the stricken look on his face, but I pushed through the buildup. I numbed myself against those beautiful green-gray eyes, against the hurt building within them, and threw all I had at him.

  “My best friend was murdered, practically in front of my eyes.” I rose to my feet, holding out my arms for him to see. “I held her in my arms and watched the last of her life leave her body. I’m now being blamed for her death, while the sick, demented bastard who did it is still out on the streets.” Rage flared my nostrils, and tears welled in my eyes from the pent-up emotion.

  “I know, Ariel, and I am—”

  “No!” I glowered down at him, shaking with fury. “No, I don’t think you do know. You are not the one this has happened to. You are not trapped in a life where you can’t find your way out, and you do not have to deal with any of this. If you wanted to, you could just leave, but I can’t.”

  And as the last word escaped from my lips, I immediately wanted to take them back. I finally fought through my anger enough to completely take in the look of his face, and it killed my heart.

  Emotions warred across the surface. His jaw clenched, and he gazed down. After what seemed like an eternity, he finally looked up, and every emotion was wiped clean from his face. Stoicism had taken on a new meaning. His expression was so solid, it was cold.

  He closed his journal with a snap and stood, his eye level above mine. “I can see my presence here has brought you distress.” He walked to the door, putting his hand on the knob. “I will check in with you as soon as I can. I am sorry.” And then he was gone.

  I stood there, enraged and conflicted, fighting with myself about what I said. After I calmed some, I realized I no longer regretted a single harsh word I unloaded on him. True, he was helping me, but at the same time, he was holding back. He was holding onto something he refused to tell me. I wasn’t going to let what little shred of happiness I got from Bailey’s visits be affected by him any longer. I refused to feel guilty about it again. As long as he kept secrets, I was going to continue to conceal my own.

  Chapter Nineteen

  Knock, Knock, Knock.

  My eyes fluttered open, and I looked out the window. The moon still shined its familiar light.

  What time is it?

  My sleeping, nonfunctioning hand grabbed the clock off the nightstand.

  Who the hell still makes analog clocks, and why in the hell is it not backlit?

  I pulled for the cord on the night lamp, knocking over my glass of water.

  Dammit!

  The time focused into the near-drunken state of my tired eyes. It had to be Luca at the door, but why was he coming at 2:00 a.m. to see me?

  Knock, Knock, Knock.

  My heart leaped inside my chest. Something must be wrong. I hopped out of bed, and wrestled to put on my bathrobe. I stumbled my way to the door while tying the belt of my robe. I opened the door, and the greenish-gray eyes I anticipated behind it weren’t there. The eyes were that of emerald green surrounded by sandy-colored freckles. “Bailey? What are you doing here?” It was then I noticed her breathing was labored and the rosiness of her cheeks fired hotter than Piper’s bob.

  “Ariel, you have to come quick. It’s my mom.” There was fear in her usually calm, sweet voice.

  My eyes widened. “What is it?”

  She tugged at my robe. “Please. She just needs help. Please, you have to come.”

  For a moment, I wanted to debate the choice, but I knew I couldn’t. Her mother could be in serious trouble. I grabbed a pair of sneakers from inside the door, slipping them on. She then led me through the house and out the front door.

  We walked out back for a while. I turned around and could see the light of my room. Why was Bailey’s mom out here so late?

  Bailey dragged me by the hand with her little strides to Robin’s Windmill. The fear in
side me rose as I anticipated the potential scene I might find.

  She released my hand when we came to a stone bench adjacent from the windmill. I looked around. There was no one within a half-mile radius from which I could see. “Bailey, what’s going on?”

  She gazed up at me. The fear across her face she once harbored had been replaced with anxiety. “Ariel, please don’t be mad.”

  What had she done? “Bailey ….” My eyes grew wide as I put the pieces together.

  “It’s just that the last few days or so you’ve been looking so sad, and I thought that if you came out here and saw Robin’s Windmill up close …. When my dad used to bring me here, it used to always make me feel better, and no one is around. I made sure my mom was asleep so she wouldn’t see us. Please don’t be mad. I’m sorry. I was just trying to help,” she pleaded.

  The heat of anger flooded my face, but the sweetness of her doe eyes brought my emotions back down. She was trying to help me. I couldn’t fool her. She was too smart for me. She knew I was upset and tried to help. I could only be so lucky to have found her. I couldn’t be angry any longer. I reached over and grabbed her, pulling her into an embrace.

  She leaned her head into my waist, and I rubbed her curly red hair.

  “Thanks, girlie,” I said.

  She pulled away, excitement spread across her face. “Sit down. I’ll be right back.”

  I did as I was told and watched her walk a few feet over.

  She shined the light of her green flashlight into the swaying, tall grasses. She then bent down and retrieved the items of her search. When she returned, she had a blanket and a thermos in hand. “I brought hot chocolate. My mom makes the best. I told her I had a nightmare and she made me some, so I snuck it under my bed earlier tonight in the thermos.”

  I couldn’t believe she went to all this trouble for me.

  “Oh and here’s the best part.” She pulled out a bag from the wrapped up blanket in her hands. It was so dark outside I couldn’t tell what was in the bag. She held up her green flashlight. The light of it revealed a bunch of slightly darkened brownies in the bag. “I saw you had some of these on your table. I told my mom it was snack day at school tomorrow. She wanted to make them for me, but I told her I wanted to. Sorry if they’re a little burnt.” She giggled nervously.