Blood Diamond

by R. J. Blain

  My mother’s gaze never left me as I thought it through.

  “Elliot can’t be a witch.”

  “And why not?”

  “Because if he is, the Inquisition will kill him,” I hissed.

  “Will they?” she murmured, narrowing her eyes at me.

  “They were ready and willing enough to want to get rid of me, weren’t they?”

  “The way we allowed them to handle you was a mistake,” she replied, and while she was soft-spoken, her tone was firm. “We were afraid and allowed that fear to rule us. You grew up, and excluding that little incident in Montreal, you’ve been a boon to the Inquisition, and everyone knows it. Your brother has been a firm but fair Shadow Pope. At this point, if he develops as a witch, they only need to look at you to understand it might not be a bad thing for them.”

  “Is it confirmed that he is a witch?” I whispered.

  “No, it’s not confirmed. Of course there are many who suspect he’s something because you’re a witch, but he’s not confirmed to be a witch. Up until recently, however, you were a low-grade sensor—not a threat to anyone. You and your brother have always lived near each other. I suspect he’s been neutralizing your witchcraft all along. You didn’t become dangerous until after you were separated from him. He is always worried about you and how you might manifest into a witch the Inquisition can’t ignore. If he’s a water witch, it makes sense.” My mother’s smile turned smug. “He probably has no idea he’s been doing it.”

  “So if all earth witches can be controlled by water witches, why does the Inquisition even have earth witches? Wouldn’t they all be controlled?” Draping my arm over my eyes, I drew in a deep breath and sighed. “It doesn’t make sense to me.”

  “Other earth witches don’t have a twin with a vested interest in your ongoing survival, Dante. Therein the difference lies.”

  “And does Father agree with this?”

  “Do I agree with what?” my father asked, taking the stairs two at a time.

  “My esteemed brother being a water witch.”

  “I think it’s a sound theory worth ignoring,” was his guarded reply. He sank down on the couch next to my mother. “What are you filling his head with now?”

  “Reasons he should stay in Atlanta where he belongs,” my mother replied with a dainty sniffle.

  I snorted. “If anyone thinks I’m living in Canada during the winter, they’re mad. And anyway, this isn’t about where I live.”

  “I think it is, unless you want to start spawning volcanoes all over Earth,” my mother retorted.

  “Oh, leave him alone. Anyway, he’s not even taking the blame for it. That group he uncovered is, and I see no reason to convince anyone otherwise.”

  “Why are they taking the blame?” I demanded. “They’re anti-supernatural.”

  “It’s because of those diamonds. The Inquisition has had witches looking at them, and they’re bad news. The general consensus is that they are the supernatural equivalent of a bomb—a really big bomb. They’re full of energy, and no one is sure how they work,” my father explained.

  I sucked in a breath. “Really?”

  “Really. The shards they picked out of you were one of those diamonds, right?”

  Lowering my arm from my eyes, I met my father’s gaze and nodded. I couldn’t bring myself to tell him what else the diamond contained. Evelyn had probably already told him, considering she had informed him of Jacqueline and her fate.

  Because I hadn’t waited, because I had been an idiot to trust Suzanne with anything, I had lost my chance to save my daughter. All that was left for me was the memory of her warmth. The thought of someone using her and the other souls trapped in the blood diamond as a weapon sickened me.

  “It’s entirely possible that the stone caused the eruption when it was shattered,” my father continued, shrugging. “There’s no way to know, not now. Do you remember anything?”

  “Bits and pieces,” I replied, wondering if I had hallucinated the lava chasing me as a consequence of pain and blood loss.

  “What bits and pieces?” he demanded.

  I wrinkled my nose at him, determined to withstand his questioning without confessing everything that was haunting me. “Considering the fact that sentient lava doesn’t actually exist, I’m pretty sure that what I remember isn’t entirely coherent or accurate.”

  “Blood loss,” my mother stated, jabbing my father with her elbow. “Leave the poor boy alone. He’s traumatized enough without you interrogating him. We should be grateful that the stone didn’t kill him when it broke and leave it at that.”

  “Blood loss or witchcraft,” my father countered. He chuckled. “I guess it doesn’t matter either way. Just do us all a favor and keep out of trouble in the future.”

  “I’ll try,” I promised, wondering what had changed my parents—and how many of our problems had been caused by me.

  ~~*~~

  My mother and father were doing their best to keep me from talking to Evelyn. The day of my release, their interference hadn’t bothered me too much. I wanted to be with her and make certain she was all right, but my father’s reassurances had been enough.

  As the second day dragged by, the monotony broken by a doctor’s appointment, I paced around the room.

  “Will you sit down?” my father asked in exasperation. “You’re making me tired watching you.”

  “You could just give me your phone so I can call Evelyn,” I countered.

  My mother laughed. “You’re not winning this one, dear. He’s as bad as you are.”

  Uncertain of which one of she was addressing, I turned to her. She smirked.

  “I’m glad you’re enjoying yourself,” I complained, flopping onto the armchair. While my chest ached, the medicines were doing a good job of mitigating the worst of my pain, leaving me in comfortable, semi-detached numbness. “Why won’t you let me talk to her?”

  “If you had memorized her phone number, you could. Consider it a lesson learned.” My father clucked his tongue at me. “She’s busy doing something very important. I told you that already. She’s the one who ordered me to keep a very close eye on you. She’s gutsy, I’ll give her that. Ordering me around. Hmph.”

  Bursting into another fit of laughter, my mother got up and headed into the kitchenette. When she returned, she handed me a cup of coffee. “Relax, Dante. She’ll be coming soon enough.”

  “Or you could give me her phone number so I could call her,” I mumbled, wondering if I could wrestle the cell from my father’s pocket. The thought of putting in so much effort was enough to tire me out. “I don’t see what the big deal is.”

  “The big deal is that you’re still not remembering important details, including phone numbers I know you had memorized.”

  I winced at the truth of his statement. “The doctors said it might be a while. The medications aren’t helping, you know that.”

  “If it returns at all.”

  “So I learn them again. Not a problem.”

  “If you can.”

  Flexing my hands so I wouldn’t ball them into fists, I glowered at my father. “Are you trying to irritate me?”

  “Maybe.”

  I groaned. “Please stop.”

  Someone knocked at the door, and my mother hurried to answer it. I leaned back in the armchair for a better view. My brother caught sight of me and waved a fist in my direction. “Maybe we should just leave you in the hospital since you like it so much.”

  I bit back my retort, which consisted entirely of curses. Drawing a deep breath, I replied, “I had to find out if the one here was as good as the one in Ottawa. I’m pleased to report that it is.”

  When Vicky followed in Elliot’s wake, I saluted her. “Good day, ma’am. Have you been able to keep my brother restrained?”

  “Barely. You look terrible. Are you trying to take the world record for close brushes with death?”

  “Is there a record for that?” I asked, widening my eyes at the thought.
r />   “Don’t you even dare,” my brother hissed.

  “Seconded,” Vicky announced. “Elliot broke into your house. He brought some things for you, including your laptop.”

  “You broke into my house?” Glaring at Elliot, I waved my fist at him. “You have the key, you rat.”

  “It was more fun to break in,” my twin replied, flipping a rude gesture in my direction. “Serves you right for worrying us again.”

  “I didn’t do it on purpose.”

  With a long, drawn out sigh, my brother walked over and set my laptop bag next to the armchair. “Did you kill the bitch?”

  “Don’t insult the bitches,” I replied, glancing at Vicky. “I apologize for him, he’s an idiot.”

  “He is,” Vicky agreed.

  “Fine. What should I call her, then?”

  “Suzanne is acceptable. I, unfortunately, did not have the pleasure of doing it. I had intended to save her as a wedding gift for Evelyn, but she had an encounter with lava. It did not end well for her.”

  “I still say it was too quick for what she deserved,” my father grumbled.

  “You’re a bloodthirsty lot,” Vicky observed, setting her bags down near the door. “From my understanding, she was the one who shot you?”

  “She didn’t like the fact I told her she could go burn in hell,” I replied, glancing at my mother in case she decided to cuff my ears for my language. While she arched a brow at me, she didn’t move. “We had a fight.”

  “One that she won, from the looks of it. Next time, shoot first,” my brother chided, sitting on the couch next to our father. “Father, Mother, this is my boss, Vicky.”

  “A pleasure to meet you, Vicky,” my father said, kissing the back of the Fenerec’s hand. “If my son gives you any trouble, please do let me know.”

  “Don’t worry, Mr. Anderson. If he gives me any trouble, I’ll take care of him myself.”

  I grinned at the Fenerec before turning my attention to my brother. “She’s a keeper.”

  “Dante!”

  “What? She is. She’s almost as pretty as Evelyn, she’s smart, and—”

  Vicky lightly slapped the back of my head. “She’s standing right here.”

  “Oh! Hi, Vicky,” I replied, leaning my chair back to grin up at her. “How are you?”

  “Now I have a better understanding of who taught him to be so insufferable. It was you, wasn’t it?” Crossing her arms over her chest, she glared me. The corner of her mouth twitched up into a grin. “I’m okay. Probably not feeling as good as you are right now. They have you on strong painkillers again, don’t they?”

  “They won’t let me talk to Evelyn,” I whined.

  “You’ll probably thank them later for sparing you a great deal of embarrassment. You sound like you’ve enjoyed one too many bottles.” Shaking her head, Vicky perched on the arm of the couch next to my brother. “He’s looking really good for someone who was shot with an assault rifle.”

  “He heals about as fast as a Fenerec,” my father replied. “If it weren’t for the fact he suffered from so much blood loss, I think he would have been out of the hospital two or three days after they admitted him. They didn’t dare risk the operation until he recovered a little. There’s a shortage of his blood type.”

  “You could have called me,” my brother snapped.

  “I would have if I had remembered your number,” I muttered. “Of all of the numbers to remember, I remembered Father’s.”

  “His memory is a little spotty when it comes to phone numbers at the moment,” my father explained. “And anyway, once your mother and I arrived, we donated enough for him and a few others, too. I knew there was a reason I marri—”

  “Finish that sentence if you want to die in your sleep tonight,” my mother warned.

  Biting my lip so I wouldn’t laugh wasn’t enough to hold my mirth at bay. Snorting, I clapped my hands over my mouth.

  “Dante Jackson Emmett Anderson, what do you think is so funny?”

  Wheezing and gasping for breath, I excused myself to the kitchenette, where I dissolved into silent laughter.

  “He’s even worse than at Gerald’s. What do they have him on?”

  “The entire pharmacy, I think,” my father replied, his tone amused. “It’s okay, Dante. You can laugh in our faces, we don’t mind. It’s far preferable to your restless sulking.”

  “Who are you and what have you done with our father?” Elliot demanded.

  “Elliot,” my mother warned.

  “What? It’s true. He doesn’t get along with Dante. It’s fact. You... you’re being all companionable. It’s unnerving. Stop it. When Dad called, saying he was babysitting Dante, I thought there’d be bodies.”

  Vicky chuckled. “He’s telling the truth. That’s why he asked me to come along.”

  “You?” my father asked, narrowing his eyes at the Fenerec. I came back into the sitting room in time for Vicky to open her trench coat, revealing a holstered handgun. “Okay, point taken, Miss Vicky.”

  “Great. There’s now two armed and very dangerous women in my life,” I grumbled, perching on the edge of the armchair. “One was bad enough.”

  “Do you mean Amber or Evelyn?” Vicky replied with a smirk.

  “Three. Ah, wait. Make that five. If Nicole isn’t carrying, I’ll be shocked. Considering Gerald’s occupation, I bet Maggie knows how to shoot too, even if she doesn’t carry.” Scratching my forehead, I considered my mother. “You don’t carry, do you, Mother?”

  “I don’t need a gun to be dangerous,” she informed me.

  “Six.”

  My brother chuckled. “What about Beth and Ruth?”

  “They are only dangerous to my wallet at Christmas and on their birthdays.” Waving my fist at my brother, I settled back into my chair, leaning back so I could stretch my legs. “And anyway, he’s off the hook for now, Elliot. He made Evelyn happy.”

  While I still had to get payback for him overstepping his bounds with the rings, I couldn’t deny how much they had made Evelyn smile, or her excitement over her new phone and the pair of watches. I still hadn’t had a chance to look over the memory stick or the journal, but if Evelyn wasn’t keeping those items secured, I had no doubts Richard was.

  “It seems your brother can be reasonable at times, Elliot.” My father shook his head and chuckled. “He only started getting uppity today, seeing as I won’t give him my cell so he can acquire Evelyn’s phone number. I could practically see the wheels turning as he tried to figure out if he was up for fighting me for it.”

  I grimaced. “You noticed?”

  “You aren’t well versed in the art of subtlety when heavily medicated. That, plus you were mumbling,” my father informed me.

  Turning my attention to my twin, I narrowed my eyes. “Elliot, do you have Evelyn’s phone number?”

  “I do, but I’m not giving it to you.”

  Vicky held her hands up. “I do too, but I’m under strict orders not to give it to you as well.”

  “That’s not fair.”

  “Life isn’t fair to those who get shot,” my twin snapped. “Suffer. She’s busy.”

  I shut my mouth with a clack of my teeth. All of my doubts resurfaced and smothered me. What was she doing, that she couldn’t—wouldn’t—talk with me? Why was everyone so determined to keep me from talking with her? Had I, in my need to act, gone too far? Had she decided to leave me as Suzanne had done?

  I didn’t want to believe it, but if she had, I deserved it, and that hurt most of all.

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  My restlessness drove me out of bed a little before dawn. Dressing in a t-shirt and jeans, I grabbed the room key and my wallet, left a note saying I was taking a walk, and wandered down to the hotel lobby. Yonge Street proved lively for the early hour, reminding me a bit of New York. Wandering the streets alone probably wasn’t wise, but I let my feet carry me where they would.

  Several blocks away, I found an old cathedral. The place had an ancient
feel to it, its copper roof long since corroded to green, its Gothic architecture fashionable several hundred years ago. The last time I had been in a church, it had been to marry Suzanne, at her request.

  Maybe she had wanted absolution from her sin of being a witch. Maybe she had hoped the preacher would recognize us for what we were, burning us at the stake for the crime of our existence. All things considered, I could easily believe it.

  If she had hated witchcraft so much, if she had loathed me so much as to steal our daughter, why had she married me in the first place? There would never be answers to my questions.

  Suzanne was dead, and with the destruction of the blood diamond, the dead no longer spoke to me.

  Behind the cathedral was a park, and I sat on one of the benches to keep the deceased company. The lingering spirits lacked intelligence, leaving behind only their names as a memento of their lives. There were too many of them to count. From the few glimpses I did catch, the spirits were old, from long before Toronto had been a city.

  My curiosity got the better of me, and I got up to stroll down one of the paths leading deeper into the trees skirting the cathedral.

  One of the ghosts, much like those trapped within the blood diamond, lingered. I felt his regard as a tingling on the back of my neck. Shivering, I sat on one of the nearby benches.

  His name was John, and in life, I had no doubts he would have thrown me to the wolves for my witchcraft.

  In death, he regarded me with wary consideration. When I acknowledged him with a murmured greeting, he ignored me, although the sense of his presence remained.

  He made pleasant albeit judgmental company as the sun rose over the cathedral. As the city woke, I stood to resume my walk and came face to face with a gray-haired gentleman wearing a suit and a bishop’s collar.

  “Good morning, my child,” he said, nodding to me with a companionable smile.

  “Good morning,” I echoed, wondering how the priest would react if he found out I was a witch. Would he, like John, choose to ignore me so long as I didn’t defile sacred ground? I checked my watch. It was just after six in the morning. “I didn’t think the cathedral was open so early.”