“I know you’re fine … thankfully.” She brushed a stray curl from her forehead and turned her full attention to him, her expression thoughtful. “That report you gave the cop … was it the truth?”
He fought the urge to swear. The woman could be so exasperating! As if he would lie about something so serious. “Yes, for the umpteenth time, someone intentionally ran me off the road! I swear!”
She gave him a searching look. “I know things are still raw from the other accident. It’s okay to admit that you were going too fast and lost control.”
He resisted the urge to punch the counter. “Mom, I’m telling you the truth!” His eyes met hers, pleading for her to believe him. If his own mother didn’t believe him, how could he expect anyone else to? He could see the battle that was taking place within her. She wanted to believe him, he could tell.
Her eyes softened and then went moist. “Okay, I believe you.”
“Really?” He desperately wanted to erase the events that had led them to Tower Heights. If only he could erase the hurt he’d caused.
“Yes.” She tightened her jaw resolutely.
His heart lifted a notch.
Wisteria took a drink of her juice. “I just don’t understand why anyone would intentionally run you off the road.”
He shrugged. “Maybe I was simply in the wrong place at the wrong time. He could’ve been drunk or stoned.”
She lifted an eyebrow. “He?”
“Or she. I don’t know.”
“Well, hopefully the cops will get to the bottom of it.”
“Yes,” he said unconvinced. It was a dark, lonely stretch of highway with no witnesses, and he couldn’t remember the color of the Jeep. The chances of the cops finding the perpetrator were slim to none. And his mother would go on full alert, watching his every move. He glanced at the clock on the microwave and stuffed his books into his backpack. “Well, I’m off.”
“Not so fast.”
He turned. “What?”
“Don’t you what me. You’re riding with me today. We’re giving the bike a rest for a few days.”
“But it’s fine. It wasn’t damaged, and I cleaned it up.” Despite his mother’s protests, he’d spent a good two hours last night checking his bike and detailing it. The truth was that the bike was damaged, but only slightly. His tail pipe was dented, and there was a small rip in the leather seat.
“I’m not going to argue with you about this.”
He ripped open the pop tart package and shoved a bite into his mouth “I’m practicing with the band this afternoon, and I won’t have a ride if I don’t take the bike.”
“I’ll take you.”
He took another couple of bites of the pop tart and was done with it. “But you have meetings after school.” He watched her face color slightly. His mom had been staying late after school on a regular basis. Her excuse was always that she had meetings, but Rush suspected that she had a thing for Principal Kingsley. That he was the principal of the school and his mother’s boss levied two strikes against him. Add to that fact that he was Edward’s father—strike three!
“You’re more important than some silly meeting. I’ll take you.” She flashed a smile. “Besides, I’m dying to hear the band.”
He groaned. “Great, just what I need. My mother coming to watch me practice.” He held up a finger. “No criticism.”
She let out a devilish chuckle. “I wouldn’t dream of it … as long as your performance is up to par.”
“Uh, huh, exactly what I was afraid of.” He rolled his eyes. There were many talented musicians and singers in the world, but for his mother, it was a way of life. She lived and breathed it. For as long as he could remember, she’d shoved piano lessons down his throat. Her greatest hope for him was that he would become a classic pianist. Much to her chagrin, he’d sworn off the piano in favor of the guitar. Music ran through his veins too, but he preferred to play and sing his songs … his own way.
She cocked her head. “Will Elle be there?”
“Yes,” he said, sensing a trap. “You know she’s in the band. What are you gonna do?”
“Nothing,” she said reaching for the toast and spreading butter over it. She took a bite.
“Mom, I’ve got enough problems without you adding to it.”
“Oh, I wouldn’t dream of adding to your problems.” She began humming under her breath as she gathered her books. She slung her purse over her shoulder, juggling the books in one arm while holding the piece of buttered toast in the other. She hurriedly finished off the toast.
“Mom, please don’t say anything to Elle.”
She went to the door and pulled her keys out of her purse. “Come on, I don’t want to be late.”
He shook his head and followed behind her. There was no use arguing with her. She always did exactly what she wanted to, regardless of what anyone else said or did. He’d have to find a way to warn Elle. Once his mother went on the warpath there was no stopping her, and as of right now, Elle was her primary target.
* * *
“You have failed me! I send you to do one simple task, and you failed!”
Huntsden kept his eyes fixed straight ahead, not daring to look his accuser in the eye. He’d learned through sad experience that when his dad went on a rampage, it was better to keep his mouth shut. The last time he’d tried to defend himself against the vicious attacks he ended up with a broken arm and a cracked rib. The hair on his neck stood on end when his father got up in his face.
“Answer me when I’m talking to you!”
Even though his dad was three inches shorter than he, he was a formidable force with his blocky, muscular build and black eyes. Huntsden’s instincts were to back away, but he knew better, so he stood motionless, keeping his eyes fixed on the clock hanging on the wall. His stomach churned as he got a whiff of the stench of onions on his dad’s breath, leftover from dinner. He swallowed hard, knowing that he was left with no other choice but to answer. “I ran him off the road just as you told me to do.”
Ruben swore and knocked over a kitchen chair, causing Huntsden to flinch. “I told you to eliminate him!”
“I tried to do as you asked,” he said, fighting hard to keep the tremor out of his voice. The truth was that he’d intended to “eliminate” Rush as his dad had demanded, but at the last minute, he’d lost his nerve. He’d raced toward the bike at full speed, but at that last critical second, he’d swerved to miss him. Last summer, during football camp, he’d put the marijuana in Rush’s bag, just as his dad had instructed. The tactic had gotten Rush thrown off the football team, and it had tarnished Rush’s reputation. Ruining a guy’s reputation was one thing, but killing him? That was something else entirely. In the other realm, he’d abhorred violence in the beginning, but as time wore on, he’d allowed the darkness to permeate him, becoming more of a savage like his dad. Once the darkness took hold, he couldn’t keep it from overtaking him entirely. Now that he was in this new world, he wanted to keep the dark side of him in check. He wanted to be more like the young lad that initially abhorred brutality—more like his mother and less like his dad. It was his dad, and not he, that was the famed hunter. It was his dad that, time and time again, had looked death square in the eye and cowed it down.
A distant memory flittered before his consciousness. It was his first hunt with his father—that sacred event that marked his emergence into manhood. All went well until they came upon an unfortunate goat that had gotten caught in the trap that was set to catch the massive bear they’d been tracking. When Huntsden saw the goat’s leg, mangled by the teeth of the trap, and how the blood mixed with splintered bone and torn flesh, his stomach churned. His father handed him an arrow. “Finish it, my Son,” he commanded. With a quivering hand, Huntsden placed the arrow in the bow and pulled, but all he could see were those pleading eyes of the goat, looking into his, imploring him to be merciful. “Now!” his father commanded. But try as he might, Huntsden couldn’t release the arrow. His young body start
ed to shake, and a sob erupted from his throat. In the end, it was his father that had levied the deathblow that silenced the bleating of the goat. He’d then turned to Huntsden and gave him a bitter look—a look that still haunted Huntsden’s dreams.
“You’re a coward,” Ruben seethed, his eyes filling with rage. “A coward that must be dealt with. I have gone to great lengths to get us to this world. The kingdom is within your grasp, and you throw it away. It slips through your wretched fingers like sand. Because you have failed to do as I asked, we have lost the element of surprise. Do not think it will be so easy to eliminate him the next go around. He now knows that someone is out to get him.” He balled his fists. “This must be answered.”
“Yes,” Huntsden answered quietly. His dad’s wrath knew no bounds, and it would be answered. The first blow hit him square in the gut, knocking him breathless. Huntsden doubled over, but his dad was just getting started. He pounded him again in the side and in the back. He tried to be strong, but the words issued forth, and he couldn’t call them back. “I’m sorry,” he cried. “Dad, I’m sorry.” Hot pain shot through his body, and he groaned in agony. He tried to back away, but he was no match for his dad who was screaming obscenities at the top of his lungs. Huntsden couldn’t stop the tears from flowing down his face. He fell to the ground in a crumbled heap.
Ruben gave him one last kick in the ribs. “The next time I give you an order, you’d better follow it, you worthless piece of garbage. I won’t be as merciful the next go around,” he muttered, walking away.
Chapter Sixteen
Giving Up
When they pulled into the parking lot of The Chocolate Fountain, Wisteria gave the place an appraising glance and then raised an eyebrow. “You’re practicing here?”
“Yep, Elle’s aunt, Adele, owns the place, and she’s letting us use the attic.”
“I see. Won’t the noise disrupt the business?”
Rush shrugged. “Not according to Adele. She assured us that she would take care of any problems.”
Wisteria wrinkled her nose. “That’s a bit odd, don’t you think? It seems like she would be worried about her customers.”
Rush blew out a breath. Even though he’d practically said the same thing to Adele, he didn’t like hearing his mother say it. “Why do you always look for the negative in everything?”
“I’m not looking for the negative, I’m just stating a fact. You and I both know that the noise from your band is going to carry through that old house like a megaphone. Mark my word, the customers are going to be annoyed. If this woman Adele has an ounce of sense in her brain, she’ll realize that, and you’ll be looking for another place to practice.” She gave him a sympathetic look. “I just don’t want you getting your hopes up, that’s all.”
“It will be fine,” he said, trying to keep the irritation out of his voice. Rush grabbed the door handle. “You know, Mom, you really don’t have to come with me. I’ll be perfectly safe. It’s not like the boogie man’s gonna jump me while I’m inside.”
She gave him a look that could kill. “Enough, wise guy, I’m coming.”
“Fine! Suit yourself! But no criticism,” he warned, throwing open the car door. He began grabbing his guitar, music stand, and all of his other gear.
“Here, let me help.” Wisteria took the music stand from him.
“I’ll have to make a few trips to get it all. Let’s take this inside, and I’ll come back for the rest.”
“Quaint place,” Wisteria said when they stepped inside the front door.
Rush spotted Adele in the far corner of the room, standing beside a table, laughing and talking to a young boy and girl, who were eating brownies. He paused, unsure as to whether he should take the equipment on upstairs or stop and say hello to Adele. Luckily, she saw them and came over.
She gave Rush a warm smile. “Good to see you again.”
“Thank you. Um, this is my mother, Wisteria.”
Adele held out her hand. “It’s nice to meet you … Wisteria.”
Wisteria clasped the older woman’s hand. “Hello, it’s nice to meet you.”
Adele peered over her glasses and looked Wisteria up and down. “Still as beautiful as ever, I see.”
Wisteria gave her a quizzical look. “I’m sorry, have me met?”
Adele flashed an enigmatic smile. “It depends on what your definition is of met.”
“So we know each other?” Wisteria prompted.
The guitar was starting to feel heavy in Rush’s hands. “If you don’t mind, I’m going to go up and put these things down.”
Adele waved an arm in the air. “Yes, dear, you go right on up. Everyone else is already here. Your mother and I will stay down here and get better acquainted.”
“Oh, I was going to go up and watch them practice,” Wisteria protested.
“There will be plenty of time for that,” Adela said, placing her arm around Wisteria.
“But—”
Adele gave her a searching look. “You seem different … kinder maybe, in this world, dear.”
Wisteria shook her head. “I’m sorry, but I don’t know what you mean.”
“I see … it hasn’t come back to you then. I had thought that when the chain of events started that you would start to … well, naturally.” She adjusted her dress. “I just assumed because you were so powerful that you would …”
Wisteria leveled a glare. She didn’t know what this woman was getting at, but she didn’t like the feeling that she was being played. “That I would what?”
“Ah, the bite is still there. More subdued, but still there.” Adele looked at the ceiling and then shook her head. “Merek, I’m impressed. Hadn’t counted on her not remembering anything. Nope, hadn’t counted on that at all.”
Wisteria looked up, but all she saw was an antique ceiling fan. Rush had neglected to tell her that Elle’s aunt was crazy. No wonder she wasn’t worried about the noise. She was starting to have some serious doubts about letting Rush and the other band members practice here.
Adele gave her a reproachful look. “Your lenses have become clouded, dear. You have only to remove the grime to learn that the craziness we see in others is merely a reflection of our own misunderstanding. I figured you of all people would remember that.”
Clouded lenses? What was she talking about? “I’m sorry, but I must be missing something. You seem to know me, but I don’t know you.”
Adele chuckled. “All in good time, dear, all in good time.”
Wisteria stopped. “Wait a minute, there is something familiar about you.” She put a finger to her lips. “It’s right there, but I can’t grasp it.” She shook her head. “I lost it. Maybe you look like someone I know.”
“Yes,” Adele agreed, a trace of amusement on her face. “That must be it. Come, there’s much I want to show you.”
* * *
“Again!” Rae said. “We must do it again!”
Elle let out a groan. When it came to band practice, Rae was a tyrant. They’d gone over the same song five times already, and now Rae was insisting they go over it again. She was about to complain, but luckily, Jack beat her to it.
“Hey Red, lay off, would ya?”
Rae made a face. “Don’t call me Red. And yes, we’re gonna practice it until we get it right! Tryouts are a week away, and we’re not ready!” She pointed at Jack. “You’re half a beat behind on the chorus, and Elle stumbles every time we change chords. Elle, we’re counting on you to set the root for each chord. You have to play it like you mean it!”
“Yeah, Elle, play it like you mean it,” Jack said. “We’re counting on you. Tryouts are a week away,” he mimicked.
Elle let out a snigger but snuffed it out when she saw the dark look on Rae’s face. “Sorry,” she mumbled, glancing over at Rush to get his reaction. He rolled his eyes and looked away. A wave of frustration covered her, and she wanted to rip that smug look off of his handsome face. He was ignoring her. He’d made that very obvious in English clas
s. In fact, he was taking great delight in ignoring her, and why it irked her so, she didn’t know. She should be glad he was ignoring her—one less problem to deal with. Yes, she was glad, she decided. She and Edward were patching things up, and she certainly didn’t need Rush lurking around on the roof and complicating matters. Last night, she’d felt so guilty that Rush saw her with Edward. What did she have to feel guilty about? It wasn’t like she and Rush had ever been a couple. She shook off the thoughts and tried to focus on the bass guitar. Thankfully, it was coming back to her … a little. As much as she hated to admit it, Rae was right. She was floundering, but she was doing the best she could. She blew out a breath as they started the song again.
They were halfway through it when the door opened and Adele walked in with Ms. Porter. Elle about dropped her guitar when she saw Rush’s mom. It was bad enough that the woman was her English teacher, but to have her come to practice too? It was too much. Adele and Wisteria walked over to the sofa by the window and sat down. Elle avoided making eye contact with Ms. Porter, although she could feel the woman’s accusing eyes boring into her. She tried her best to change chords smoothly, but despite her best effort, she botched it.
When the song was over, Adele began clapping. “Bravo!” She looked sideways at Wisteria. “Don’t you agree?”
All eyes went to Wisteria as they waited for her response. She looked at Rae. “Your voice certainly helps to elevate the song … and the other members of the band.”
Jack let out a cackle, and Rush looked like he wanted to crawl under the rug. Elle’s face flamed, and she wished to be anywhere but here, performing for this wretched woman.
“Having said that,” Wisteria continued, “you did go a little pitchy on those high notes near the end.” Rae’s eyes went wide, and then her shoulders fell, but Wisteria wasn’t finished. “Rush you were a little overpowering during the chorus. Turn the amp down a notch.” She gave Elle a scathing look. “And you …” She drew her fingers through her hair. “Well, you just need to practice,” she sniffed. “You’re bumbling all over yourself on those simple chord changes. Heaven forbid if you have to play something complicated.”
Banished: Book 1 of The Grimm Laws Page 17
