Chapter 11
More than twenty-four hours had passed since Arianna had kissed Luke in his garage. Twenty-four hours that had included a restless night of sleep followed by a school day. School had been uneventful and the day had lapsed painlessly, and quickly; perhaps too quickly. Now, she stood in her room and was charged with the task of deciding what to wear to a nightclub in the neighboring town of Shadow Hills with Luke and his friends.
Typically, Arianna did not concern herself with fashion trends or what other people wore. She’d always worn what she liked and what she felt looked best on her. Price always had a hand in her decision making as well and often dictated where she shopped, or if she shopped at all. To her, her wardrobe was just a compilation of stuff, necessary elements of her existence like eating and sleeping. Of course, she wouldn’t refuse nicer clothes if they were to ever magically appear in her closet, but such a phenomenon was out of the question, as unrealistic and unlikely as her landing a date with Ryan Gosling. Besides, she’d learned early on that pining for things she couldn’t afford was nothing more than a painful waste of time. Still, as she looked at her clothes she couldn’t help but feel a little depressed. All had been affected by time. Some had faded, while others had not maintained their original shape. She did not own an outfit she could get excited about, or one she felt Luke would get excited about. So she settled on a spandex miniskirt and a striped top that hung off one of her shoulders. She slipped into her black motorcycle boots and stepped back to appraise her appearance. Unexciting and comfortable at best, her outfit would never place her on a best-dressed list, but she felt at ease in it. She didn’t feel as if she were pretending to be something she was not. True, the black fabric of her skirt had washed out somewhat, as did the black in the stripes of her shirt. But the lighting in clubs was usually dim and she highly doubted anyone would notice.
Satisfied that her outfit was as good as it could be, she ran a brush through her hair and was about to start her makeup when a knock at the door startled her.
Within seconds of the knock, her mother’s face appeared in her doorway. “Hey baby,” her mother said. Going out tonight I see.”
“Yep,” Arianna said, terrified her mother would ask to come along as well.
“So I take it that adorable guy who came to my rescue will be there?”
She didn’t bother correcting her mother that it was her who had paid for the gas and drove her home because she had always been too absent-minded to keep tabs on the fuel gauge. “Yep, he’ll be there,” was all she said tightly.
“Does he have a name?” her mother continued.
“Luke. His name’s Luke.”
“And does Luke have an older brother, or young uncle who will be joining you tonight, or, maybe perhaps in the future?’
“Mom!” Arianna groaned. “Seriously?”
“What? Can’t a girl ask if her daughter’s boyfriend knows any available cuties?”
“Luke is not my boyfriend, first of all. Second of all, and I want to be really clear about this, I am not going to ask him to fix you up with anyone, okay? And lastly, the term is hotties, not cuties. If you insist on using slang, get it right.”
“Okay, okay. No need to go getting all huffy, baby. Jeez, what’s your problem today?”
Arianna could easily rattle off a list as long as her arm about what was troubling her. At the top of it would be that her mother had refused to grow up and she was getting tired of bailing her out of jams like kicking out slovenly overnight guests who’d slept on their couch for the entire day, or meeting her in a bar parking lot to refuel the car she’d intended to operate when drunk. Throw in the fact that she couldn’t get in touch with the only friend she’d made in her gypsy life of moving from place to place after each of her mother’s failed romances and the reason for her alleged huffiness became clearer. But she knew her mother was incapable of handling difficult or profound discussions. She never had been. Even now as she looked at her mother pouting over her refusal to play matchmaker with a boy she’d just met, she couldn’t help but pity her, how even the slightest hint of confrontation sent her into a complete tailspin. Her mother was used to getting her way. But that didn’t stop Arianna from feeling bad for being sharp with her.
“I’m sorry, mom. Things have been rough the last couple of days,” Arianna admitted.
“I know what that’s like,” her mother said. “I’ve been climbing the walls with loneliness these days; just stuck here, all alone, day after day. I could really use some companionship.”
Her mother’s strong suit was certainly not subtlety. She intended to guilt Arianna into fixing her up with someone. But what her mother didn’t know was that Arianna had no intention of giving in to guilt as she so often did.
“You’ll make friends, mom,” Arianna consoled and felt as though the roles should have been reversed. “Once you start working you’ll meet people, women and men.”
Her mother offered a weak smile.
“By the way,” Arianna continued. “How did you make out with the job search yesterday?”
“Oh, I forgot to tell you,” her mother brightened. “I got a job at Super Mart! I start on Monday.”
“That’s great, mom. You see, things are already getting better.”
“Yeah, and let me tell you, the assistant manager is a hottie, as you say,” her mother said and winked. “And I didn’t notice a wedding band, not that that ever stopped me.”
“Oh jeez,” Arianna muttered.
“Did you find a job after school yesterday?”
Arianna arched an eyebrow at her mother, shocked that she’d even remembered that she’d planned to look for a job, let alone directed the conversation from herself to her daughter. She was tempted to look outside to see if pigs had begun flying as well.
“Well don’t look so shocked, baby. I listen to you when you talk,” her mother said and beamed with pride.
Arianna leveled a gaze at her and she quickly qualified her statement, “Okay, most of the time I listen when you talk,” her mother said and rolled her eyes like a child who’d been caught by his mother with his hand in the cookie jar.
“No,” Arianna answered honestly. “I didn’t.”
“How come? That little savings you got stashed in the toilet tank is not going to last you much longer,” her mother warned.
“I know,” she said then added, “But I had an accident with the bike and it’s totaled.”
“What!”
“Yesterday morning, I was on my way to school and I thought I saw something on the side of the road. I turned after I’d passed and lost control of my bike. The bike is totaled.”
Her mother’s face was aghast, horror etched her every feature. Arianna’s chest tightened immediately as worry marked her mother’s face. It wasn’t until her mother began to speak that she understood the horrified look she wore. “I can’t believe you didn’t call me! Why didn’t you call me? Why am I the last person to know? I’m always the last person to know everything!”
“I’m fine, mom, by the way. Thanks for asking,” Arianna mumbled.
“Well of course you’re fine. You’re sitting right here talking to me! I, on the other hand, think I lost a few years of my life just now,” her mother said and placed her hand over her heart dramatically. “My chest is hurting all of a sudden. I hope I’m not having a heart attack.”
“Should I call an ambulance?” Arianna said and called her mother’s bluff with syrupy concern in her voice.
“No, no,” her mother panted. “I think I’m okay, for someone who was just told that her daughter had an accident and she wasn’t told about it until the day after.”
“Sorry for leaving you out of the loop, mom, but as you said, I’m fine and sitting right here.”
“Thank God for that,” her mother sighed and Arianna felt herself soften slightly. But her softening was short-lived. “I mean really, baby, you need to be mo
re careful. What would I do without you? I need you. So don’t go killing yourself on me.”
And like that, her touching mother-daughter almost-moment had vanished. “And you love me and all that stuff, right?” Arianna said sarcastically.
“Well of course I love you!” her mother snapped indignantly. “How could you even say that to me? After all I’ve been through you’d think I wouldn’t need to prove myself to my own daughter.”
“No, no. No one’s asking you to do anything like that,” Arianna added and did not bother trying to conceal the edge in her voice.
“Good, because I won’t. I gave you life and that was proof enough. And I’ve sacrificed a lot, too. My breasts have never been the same since. Do you know how tough dating was with a baby?”
“No mom, I don’t. Enlighten me,” Arianna said flatly.
“Really tough, that’s how. Most men didn’t even want a woman with that kind of baggage. Fortunately, I look like I do, or I would have been home with you every day and night,” her mother added in expectation of sympathy.
“Yeah I know, who would want to do something crazy like, I don’t know, raising their child, when there’s a whole sea of men out there waiting to be Cathy Rose-ized,” Arianna spat and did not temper the acid in her voice.
“You make fun, baby, but you don’t know what you were like.”
Arianna thought her head would pop off her shoulders, anger welling and brimming dangerously.
“Oh, so it was my fault you weren’t interested in being a parent?”
She thought for sure her inflammatory remark would draw some sort of rebuttal, an “I loved being your parent, baby,” comment, or something close to it. But her mother, absorbed in her own recollections, was not the least bit interested in comforting her daughter.
“You used to get into all sorts of trouble, always climbing trees and cabinets. One time, when you were about seven or eight, you and the neighbor’s kid climbed up onto the roof of the trailer we’d been living in and,”
“Hold on a sec,” Arianna interrupted. “I was always climbing things, and clearly you were not around to stop me, didn’t I fall and get hurt all the time?”
“Well if you’d let me finish my story instead of being rude and interrupting, you’d find out. So anyway, there you were, up on the roof of our trailer, and I came home from the neighbor’s house after enjoying a card game and cocktails only to find you up there. You and that little girl with the buck teeth, oh, what was her name, Emily, Amy, Mary? Oh I wish I could remember! You remember her, right? She had frizzy, red hair and big ole buck teeth like a beaver,” her mother rambled.
“Mom, focus please!”
“Oh, yeah, so you and the frizzy-haired girl were up on the roof holding hands and, I don’t know how it happened, but you both slipped, together. Both of you fell from the roof down to the gravel below. And I was sure you’d have to be taken to the hospital. Of course, I looked a fright from a few too many drinks, so I wanted no part of that. Me and the neighbor ran over to you girls. Frizzy was a mess, you know, howling bloody murder in pain and all. She’d ended up breaking her leg, both wrists and had a concussion. But not you. You had not a scratch on you.”
Arianna could not believe what she had heard. She knew she ought to say something, to tell her mother how severe the accident had been and how she should have been seriously injured, but reasoned it would be pointless.
“Not a scratch on me?” Arianna asked to be certain her ears had heard correctly.
“Not a scratch,” her mother confirmed. “You never got hurt. After all your shenanigans, all your dangerous stunts, you never broke a bone or needed stitches. Guess you were born under a lucky sign or something. That’s why when you wanted to buy that bike of yours when you turned sixteen, I didn’t argue. With all the luck you’d had through the years, I figured you’d be safe. Guess your luck ran out, huh, baby.”
She nearly bit her fist to stop herself from screaming at her mother that she was wrong, dead wrong, that she was not merely lucky, that she had survived a series of childhood accidents as well as what would have been a fatal motorcycle accident a day earlier, and that she’d possibly moved a chair with her mind. No, lucky signs had nothing to do with what she had experienced. Something else entirely had been going on. She just didn’t know what.
“I guess it did,” Arianna said absently.
“Now you’ll have to be extra careful once the bike gets fixed,” her mother said solemnly.
Watching her mother’s grave expression made Arianna wonder how exactly her mother had lived to be in her forties believing that luck and luck alone, had prevented her daughter from death over and over again. She guessed that most other parents would have, at the very least, marveled at their child’s ability to cheat death once before shielding them from it in the future. Not her mother, though. Her mother had watched her fall from the roof of trailer with a friend who’d sustained serious injuries that had included a broken leg and two broken arms as well as a concussion and chalked her lack of injuries up to being born under a lucky sign. In all fairness, most other parents wouldn’t have allowed their eight-year-old to roam free unsupervised in a trailer park and end up on the roof of one of those trailers in the first place. Most parents would have questioned the fact that she had remained unharmed a little further, would have sought answers from a spiritual source perhaps. But most parents were not like Cathy Rose. Most parents did not view their child as a burden preventing them from having a more active dating life. Arianna felt her blood pressure rise. Her fingertips began to tingle as they had in class when Cheryl’s chair had shot out from beneath her. She tuned back in and listened to more of her mother’s ramblings and felt the tingling strengthen.
“And then there was the time I let you cook for me and a friend,” she said with a laugh. “You were maybe five and I was with, I think his name was John or Joe, something with a J, and we had you make us some fried chicken. You were doing all right until you started frying the breaded pieces. You pulled a chair up and started tossing drumsticks and wings into the frying pan and scalding hot oil splashed all in your face. I thought for sure you’d disfigured your face, that not only would I have a daughter no man wanted around, but an ugly one at that.” Her mother paused to laugh again, as if the story she told were somehow a funny or cherished memory. “Luckily, your face was fine. I have no idea how that happened because when I touched that pot, I burned my hand, see?” she pointed to a minute scar on her left thumb.
“Yeah, I see it, mom,” Arianna replied. The tingling had spread and grown. She felt as though a current of electricity had charged every part of her. Suddenly, she felt as though she needed physical distance between her mother and herself. “Look, we can stroll down memory lane some other time. Right now, I have to get ready to go out.”
“Oh, okay,” her mother said. “I guess I’m just so lonely and starved for companionship, I didn’t realize I was holding you up. I’ll let you finish getting ready.”
Arianna felt her body begin to tremble. Her mother was actually attempting to guilt her into taking her along on her first night out in months on the heels of bragging about being a negligent parent.
“Shut the door behind you,” Arianna said coolly.
“Think of me while you’re out having a good time,” her mother added pitifully and Arianna wanted to shut the door in her face.
“Okay, mom,” was all she could manage.
The door shut finally and her mother was safely on the other side of it. Arianna blew out a breath of air then inhaled deeply again. After several deep breaths, the trembling had subsided and her hands felt steady enough to handle a mascara wand without poking her eye out. That is, if her lucky sign had not, in fact, failed her. The thought of such nonsense riled her again slightly. She quickly pushed it to the back of her mind and tried to concentrate on the task at hand, and the night ahead of her.
She applied
two coats of mascara and some eyeliner before grabbing an empty purse from her drawer, stuffing some cash, her cigarettes and her fake identification in it and leaving. She passed her mother sitting on the couch in the living room as she headed toward the front door. Her mother sat with a blanket draped across her shoulder sipping a large glass of wine. Her intention had surely been to guilt her further, a final look-at-me-I’m-so-depressed effort. But Arianna would not bite. Instead, she called a quick “See you later!” to her mother and closed the door behind her.
Outside, the air was crisp and cool. The distinct autumn chill promised an even colder night. She pulled a cigarette from her purse and lit it while she waited for Luke to arrive. As she smoked, she tilted her chin upward and looked to the sky above. Constellations ornamented the navy expanses like innumerable diamonds affixed to a velvet backdrop. The sky was so stunning, the stars so bright and numerous, she felt dizzied slightly, but smiled regardless. She’d see a great many things in her short life, had experienced far too much even, but none of it had etched away at her appreciation of nature, at her sense wonder. She’d wanted to be an astronaut when she was a little girl. That was why she had been atop the trailer when she was eight. And the little girl had not been Amy, Emily or Mary. Her name was Avery. She had been Arianna’s best friend. Her conversation with her mother prompted her to remember an event she’d blocked from her mind for many years. Her best friend Avery’s serious injuries, and the trailer climbing that had caused it, had been the reason Avery’s parents had forbidden her from playing with Arianna ever again. They had blamed Arianna. After all, Arianna had not been harmed. But their daughter had been. The only eyewitness to the fall had been Arianna’s drunken mother.
Arianna’s heart raced wildly in her chest, her memory suddenly vivid. She was about to turn and walk back in to the house and forget about going altogether, feeling that her mood had been irreparably soured when the rumble of a truck engine stopped her. Headlights sliced through the darkness and approached slowly then stopped in front of her trailer. The door opened and the overhead interior light illuminated Luke’s face. And he wasn’t alone.
Stephanie occupied the passenger seat looking impossibly beautiful despite the unflattering lighting and the sour expression she wore.
“Hey,” Luke said as he rounded the front of his truck. “You look nice.”
“Thanks,” Arianna replied and wondered why he didn’t kiss her on the cheek or anything. A day earlier they’d shared an intense and passionate kiss, but since then, there hadn’t been any hand-holding, hugging, nothing. Now, with his sister perched in the front seat and her relegated the back seat, there was no chance of even an accidental brush of hands. Between her mother’s reminiscing and attempted guilt trip and Luke doing nothing short of pretending like what happened between them in his garage had never happened, Arianna found herself missing her bike more than ever. If she had her bike, she would have canceled with Luke in favor of a nice long ride to clear her head. But she did not have it. Instead, she bumped along in Luke’s pickup truck for twenty minutes until they reached Blue Ivy nightclub in Shadow Hills, a seedy town in an even seedier neighborhood that straddled the border between theirs and the next.
Two cars had followed them the entire trip. Ryan and Christa had trailed in his Honda CRX with Bulldog, Beth, Mike and Carrie not far behind. Stephanie had planned to meet friends there and had hitched a ride with Luke. After parking in a small lot just past the entrance to the club, everybody jumped out their cars, eager to get inside. Bass rumbled deeply, growling like thunder from beyond the walls of the club, pulsing like an immense heart issuing its rhythmic beat.
“Let’s do this!” Ryan said enthusiastically and Christa rolled her eyes at him.
“I don’t know about you, but I’m ready to get my drink on!” Mike said.
Everyone started moving toward the club slowly. Stephanie hung back and pulled at Arianna’s arm to stay.
“Hold on a sec,” she hissed. “I got something.”
Arianna couldn’t imagine what, and was afraid to ask. She waited as Stephanie searched her purse then finally produced two white tablets in a plastic bag. “Thought you might want to do a little ex before we go in,” she said and offered a tablet to Arianna.
Ecstasy was not a drug Arianna was interested in trying. She’d smoked pot before, but that had been the extent of her experience with drugs.
“No thanks,” Arianna said and handed Stephanie’s bag back.
Stephanie studied her for a moment and Arianna anticipated a snide comment or pressure, but none came. Instead, Stephanie shrugged, popped the tablet into her mouth and caught up with the rest of their group.
The line to get into Blue Ivy was long, but moved quickly. Within ten minutes, they were inside wading through a sea of people grinding and writhing to the roll of booming bass. Bulldog led the pack, and much like a bulldozer, pushed his way past people until a path had been cleared for them that led straight to the bar. His intimidating size and appearance, complete with a square jaw, deep-set eyes and countless scars, discouraged anybody from protesting their prime position. Pressing his luck further, as well as his substantial form, Bulldog managed to secure a small table for them to stand around close to the bar.
In the far corner of the club, they had a view of the dance floor. Packed with scantily clad girls gyrating and rubbing up against eager guys, the dance floor was crowded. Arianna was not known to dance and she doubted Luke was much of a dancer either. She preferred drinking at clubs and watching others dance.
“What’re you drinking tonight?” Luke shouted in her ear over the loud music.
“Beer,” she answered.
Luke smiled then shouted, “You’re a cheap date. I like you more and more every time I see you!” and smiled.
Arianna smiled too, but not because of his joke. She smiled at his use of the word date. Luke disappeared toward the bar with Bulldog. Though the bar was just a few feet away, they were immediately swept away on a wave of people and carried in the current. They returned several minutes later with a round of drinks for everyone. Luke sidled up behind her and wrapped his arms around her waist. His body moved to the music faintly and rocked hers pleasantly. She enjoyed the feel of him pressed against her, feeling his heartbeat against her back, his hard body.
After the second round of drinks had been finished, Luke left her with Stephanie to go get another. She watched him as he left then allowed her eyes to scan the crowd. As she did, her breath caught in her chest. In the distance, near the wall farthest from her, she spotted a familiar face. The man she’d seen on the side of the road not once, but twice, in the last three days watched her. She wondered what the hell he was doing there, why he was following her, so she grabbed Stephanie by the elbow and urged her forward.
“Come on Stephanie,” she said and tugged her arm.
“What the fuck!” Stephanie protested.
“Come on! I think I see someone I know,” Arianna said.
“So? What the hell does that have to do with me?”
Arianna didn’t want to argue. She just wanted someone with her when she confronted him, a witness that he existed, that he was real. She quickly searched her mind for a reason that would motivate Stephanie.
“It’s a guy I know. He’s single and loaded, but I guess I’ll see him another time.”
She could practically see Stephanie’s brain working. She tossed a lock of platinum blonde hair over her shoulder and took Arianna’s hand and began moving through the crowds. A sea of swaying bodies, changing faces and snippets of shouted conversations became disorienting. Unsure of which corner she’d seen the mystery man in, she stopped.
“What are you doing?” Stephanie yelled. “I thought we were going to see your rich friend.”
“I think he left already,” Arianna fumbled for an excuse. “Since you took so long to come with me,” she added and worried she
would suffer Stephanie’s wrath at any second. When it did not come, she nearly sighed aloud in relief.
“I need a smoke,” Stephanie said. “Let’s dip outside, okay?”
Arianna glanced around nervously. “What about Luke and the others?” she asked.
“We can’t take our drinks outside, and I’m not leaving them lying around here,” Stephanie cautioned.
“Gotcha,” Arianna replied.
Stephanie turned and began leading them toward the perimeter of the club in search of an exit door. They stumbled through throngs of people until they found one and opened it.
“Wait,” Arianna said to Stephanie as she stepped out. “What if we can’t get back in this door?”
“We’ll go around to the front if we have to. Our hands are stamped.”
The door led into a dimly lit alleyway. Sodium vapor lamps provided meager light as well as an eerie jaundiced glow. Dumpsters lined the walls and added to the depressing ambience.
“This is gross,” Arianna said. “Let’s go back in and go out front to smoke, you know, where there’s no garbage or rats.”
“Whatever,” Stephanie answered curtly.
Arianna tugged the handle to the metal door and, as she expected, the door had locked from the inside.
“Great. We’re locked out,” Arianna said sarcastically.
“Who gives a shit?” Stephanie said with a slurred voice as she lit her cigarette clumsily, the ecstasy and alcohol clearly affecting her coordination.
“Um, I do. It’s not safe back here.”
“Don’t be such a chickenshit.”
“Call me whatever you want, we’re not staying back here,” Arianna said then added, “One of us has to use her brain here.”
Arianna took a step forward to lead her and Stephanie out of the alleyway when a sound halted her. She stopped and listened intently.
“What the fuck! First you wanna go. Now you wanna stay. Make up your mind!”
“Shh!”
Arianna listened again and heard footsteps approaching. Fear slithered like a serpent down the length of her spine and raised bumps on her skin. Her heart began to race, adrenaline flooding her system to flee from what she perceived as danger.
“What?” Stephanie questioned belligerently.
“Shut up!” Arianna hissed as the footsteps sounded closer. “Someone’s coming,” she whispered.
“Someone’s already here,” a male voice called.
“We were just leaving,” Arianna said and ducked her head down. She grabbed Stephanie by her wrist and yanked her along.
“What’s the rush ladies?” the voice said again and two men stepped out from the shadows.
Grungy and bedraggled looking, both men looked as though they could benefit from a shower with soap and a stiff-bristled brush. Heavily tattooed and clad in jeans, they looked as if they’d seen and committed their share of violent acts. One wore a gray bandana on his head and a black leather vest while the other had illegible tattoos scrawled across his neck.
“I said what’s your hurry?” neck tattoo asked in a gravelly voice.
“We have friends inside. Came out for a smoke and got locked out,” Arianna answered and tried to sound calm.
The man with the gray bandana stepped away from the man with the tattooed neck and approached Stephanie. Arianna felt her heart slamming against her ribcage as he raked his eyes up and down their bodies, circling and stalking them like prey. Neck tattoo advanced as well. The closer he got, the more hideous he became. Silver jewelry pierced the skin of his face and ears and jingled softly as he walked and he blinked often, his nearly lashless lids straining over eyeballs that protruded. His tongue continually darted from between his thin lips like a snake sniffing out its next meal. Both men looked as if they were high on something.
“Aren’t you both just a pleasant surprise? So pretty to look at,” neck tattoo hissed and ran his serpentine tongue over his lips again.
“Thanks,” Arianna said flatly and slid a glance at Stephanie. “But we’re leaving. Our friends are waiting.” Stephanie looked terrified and trembled so violently her large hoop earrings quivered.
“I don’t think so,” neck tattoo warned and closed the distance between him and Arianna. He cuffed her upper arm, his grip on it vice-like. “They can wait. We’re just getting to know each other.”
Arianna tried to wrench her arm from him and scream, but he clapped his hand over her mouth and slammed her against the brick wall behind her. With the pressure of his hand pinning her face and head to the wall, he used his other to pull a small rectangular object from his pocket. He pushed a button on it and a shiny blade appeared. He pressed it to Arianna’s throat and said, “If you make another sound, I’ll slit your fucking throat.”
Arianna could hear her blood roaring in her ears. The man pushed his knife against her skin and she felt the sting of skin breaking. All the while, he stared into her eyes, his own completely devoid of any sentiment whatsoever. From the corner of her eye, she saw Stephanie move, attempt to run. But the man with the bandana grabbed her before she’d taken more than two steps. He slammed Luke’s sister against the far wall and Arianna heard her head connect with the brick wall with a sickening thwack. Stephanie slid down the wall slowly until her body slumped to the ground.
“That’s all right,” bandana man said. “She doesn’t have to be awake for this.” He then crouched down over her and lifted up her miniskirt.
“Like what you see?” neck tattoo said to Arianna, and ran his tongue up her neck. Bile rose in the back of her throat and she thought she might vomit, fear fighting to purge the beer from her stomach. “Now you be a good little girl,” he ordered her and she felt his hands touch the hem of her miniskirt. He raised it high and revealed her thong underwear. “Oh, I like those,” he laughed approvingly.
Suddenly the sodium vapor lamps brightened considerably, transforming from a sinister, jaundiced glow to a bright, near-white hue that pulsed all around her; through her. The world suddenly buzzed and the fear she’d felt seconds earlier melted away.
“You think I’m gonna just let this happen,” she spat.
“I like it when they struggle,” neck tattoo said confidently, but the look on his face betrayed his confidence. He looked shocked by her lack of fear.
Spurred, Arianna felt her muscles bunch and strain, burning to move despite the weight of his body against her. An odd but not altogether unfamiliar sensation whispered through her body, gently at first then gained momentum immediately until it throbbed through her veins with more force than her lifeblood. The man who sought to rape her had not noticed the changes that were occurring. He did not sense Arianna’s transformation. But she had, in fact, transformed. She no longer felt fear unlike any she’d ever felt before. She no longer wanted to flee. She wanted something else entirely.
Her stomach roiled angrily as if somersaulting over a slithering serpent that moved unendingly inside her gut. The scent of garbage from the surrounding trash bins in the alleyway intensified, but was overpowered by a different scent: Blood. The metallic stench of blood hung in the air like mist, overwhelming her, fueling her. Her vision, shrouded moments ago by tears and darkness, now saw clearly that blood dripped from a wound on Stephanie’s skull. Fury shook her body and the urge to kill the man before her as well as the one who hovered over Stephanie overtook her. Kill or be killed. The words passed through her with the tremors that shook her, vibrating and echoing through her core. She shoved her hands forward with strength and energy she should not have had and the man launched backward. She swept her arm up and to one side and the man’s body moved, as if he were a marionette on a string guided by her hand, and slammed against the brick wall of a neighboring building. She heard loud snaps, bones no doubt, and several of them, when his body met with the wall. In the instant that it had happened she’d wondered how she could possibly hear his bones yielding on impact. But the
thought had been fleeting. The hum inside her encompassed any reason she’d possessed and drowned it out completely, and she was filled with the urge to punish the man she seemingly controlled. She retracted her hand quickly and watched as he lurched forward, impossibly, his feet not touching the ground. Then she flicked her wrist away from her body and he smashed against the wall once more. A vile thrill of excitement trilled inside of her as his form met with the wall a second time. She watched as the man with the neck tattoo fell to the concrete unmoving, his leg jutting out from beneath him unnaturally.
Feeling her blood roaring through her veins, she turned her attention to the man with Stephanie. Stephanie’s underwear had been torn from her body and the man with the bandana had begun to unzip his pants. He produced his own blade and pressed it to Stephanie’s neck. “One more step and I’ll kill the bitch,” he said.
At his threat, Arianna’s breaths came in short, shallow pants and she felt as though a black hole resided deep in the pit of her belly, one that could never be filled. Her eyes burned with red-hot heat as if both were glowing embers. Everything in her field of vision was bathed in crimson. She saw the man crouched over Stephanie freeze. He looked at her, shocked and confused.
“What the fuck?” he shouted. “You’re eyes! You’re eyes are r-r-r-red!” Fear laced each of his words, but Arianna felt nothing for him. “Stay back or I’ll cut her!” he said again and pressed the point of the blade so that it produced a thin rivulet of blood. Stephanie began to stir and regain consciousness, undoubtedly in response to the pain of the blade pricking her throat.
The coppery scent of blood filled Arianna’s nostrils once again, burning the back of her throat. All she wanted was to avenge her friend who lay littered on the ground like refuse, her skirt lifted to her waist and her underwear torn off. The man had intended to rape her, to strip from her that which was not his to take, her dignity, her worth. But Arianna would not let that happen. Her body shook as a ripple of ire passed through her, flaring to the tips of her fingers, tingling and burning. She raised her hands quickly. As her fingers lifted to the height of her shoulders, heat flashed from their tips and felt like it was arching in a scorching stream. The man rose to his feet, but not fast enough to evade her all-consuming rage. Her scarlet sight watched as he burst into flames. He rose to his feet and scampered away from Stephanie whose eyes fluttered, flames licking every part of his body. He screamed and writhed, tried to pat the flashes of fire that rose and fell like the breaths of a great beast. He howled in pain and pleaded for help as the flames grew larger and encompassed him. But Arianna did not offer help and she did not want him to feel reprieve. She wanted him to feel the fire of hell and burn.
Arianna’s felt her own chest rise and fall, her breathing strained and labored. She looked to Stephanie who had awoken to the sight of a burning man before her.
“W-what’s happening?” Stephanie asked groggily.
Arianna didn’t bother answering any questions. She grabbed Stephanie and pulled her to her feet with strength that began to drain from her, leaving in its wake pain, indescribably intense pain. Every part of her ached. She tugged on the handle of the door they’d exited.
“It’s locked, remember?” Stephanie said.
Arianna yanked it as hard as she could and the felt the lock surrender. Thumping bass poured out from the opened door and they stepped into the darkness. The effort of opening the door had sapped what little strength had remained. She shivered, panicking about what she’d just seen, what she’d done. Her brain could not process what had just happened, her strength, her power. The club began to spin in lopsided circles and disgust ate at her. Had she killed both men? In the moment, she hadn’t cared, had actually wanted them gone, permanently. She felt the energy inside her waver and a swelling sting swept through her, tearing at her insides, branching from the center of her body and shooting out. Stephanie let go of her hand and pushed through the crowd leaving Arianna alone. The music and voices around her seemed to murmur, suddenly muffled as if she were hearing them from underwater, distorted and indistinct. Her knees threatened to give way beneath her, stabbing pain radiating from her gut.
She hunched and clutched her stomach about to drop to the floor and curl into a ball against the blinding pain she felt when a pair of warm hands cupped her face. And just as suddenly as the pain had come, it receded like a wave. She looked up to see who held her face and drew in a sharp breath when she saw him. Tall and broad-shouldered with golden hair and blue eyes that penetrated the dimness of the nightclub, the man’s touch calmed her, yet evoked a stirring of warmth in her torso that expanded and touched the tips of her fingers and toes. Faint light from a roving spotlight shined behind him, haloing his exquisite shape, and if he’d whispered in her ear that he was an angel, she would have believed him.
“Let’s get you out of here,” he said in a voice as beautiful as he was.
For unclear reasons, she did not fight or protest. The man she’d seen on the side of the road twice, the same one she’d seen before she’d gone outside with Stephanie, took her hand in his and stepped forward.
“Who are you?” she managed. “What do you want from me?’
“You know who I am, Sola. And who I am does not matter. Who and what you are is all that matters.”
“What? What does that mean?” she asked.
“Take my hand and I’ll show you,” he replied.
He pulled her close to him and the world around them disappeared, the club, the people, the tables, everything vanished from sight. Light burst into her mind, brilliant white light, and she was on a roaring wave. The warmth she’d felt moments ago filled her so fully she thought it would burst through her arms and legs. Warmth, comforting, enveloping warmth charged the center of her being. She was light. She did not feel pain or fear. Her worries disappeared like grains of sand in the wind. She was free.
About the Authors
Jennifer and Christopher Martucci hoped that their life plan had changed radically in early 2010. To date, the jury is still out. But late one night, in January of 2010, the stay-at-home mom of three girls under the age of six had just picked up the last doll from the playroom floor and placed it in a bin when her husband startled her by declaring, “We should write a book together!” Wearied from a day of shuttling the children to and from school, preschool and Daisy Scouts, laundry, cooking and cleaning, Jennifer simply stared blankly at her husband of fifteen years. After all, the idea of writing a book had been an individual dream each of them had possessed for much of their young adult lives. Both had written separately in their teens and early twenties, but without much success. They would write a dozen chapters here and there only to find that either the plot would fall apart, or characters would lose their zest, or the story would just fall flat. Christopher had always preferred penning science-fiction stories filled with monsters and diabolical villains, while Jennifer had favored venting personal experiences or writing about romance. Inevitably though, frustration and day-to-day life had placed writing on the back burner and for several years, each had pursued alternate (paying) careers. But the dream had never died. And Christopher suggested that their dream ought to be removed from the back burner for further examination. When he proposed that they author a book together on that cold January night, Jennifer was hesitant to reject the idea outright. His proposal sparked a discussion, and the discussion lasted deep into the night. By morning, the idea for the Dark Creations series was born.
The Dark Creations series, as well as the Arianna Rose series and the Planet Urth series, are works that were written while Jennifer and Christopher continued about with their daily activities and raised their young children. They changed diapers, potty trained and went to story time at the local library between chapter outlines and served as room parents while fleshing out each section. Life simply continued. And in some ways, their everyday lives were reflected in the char
acters of each series.
As the story line continues to evolve, so too does the Martucci collaboration. Lunches are still packed, noses are still wiped and time remains a rare and precious commodity in their household, but it is the sound of happy chaos that is the true background music of their writing. They hope all enjoy reading their work as much as they enjoyed writing it.
Books by Jennifer and Christopher Martucci:
The Dark Creations Series (A YA paranormal romance series)
Dark Creations: Gabriel Rising (Part 1)
Dark Creations: Gabriel Rising (Part 2)
Dark Creations: Gabriel Rising (Part 1&2)
Dark Creations: Resurrection (Part 3)
Dark Creations: The Hunted (Part 4)
Dark Creations: Hell on Earth (Part 5)
Dark Creations: Dark Ending (Part 6)
The Arianna Rose Series (A paranormal romance series)
Arianna Rose (Part 1)
Arianna Rose: The Awakening (Part 2)
Arianna Rose: The Gathering (Part 3)
Arianna Rose: The Arrival (Part 4)
Arianna Rose: The Gates of Hell (Part 5)
Dark Reality 7-Book Boxed Set Page 27
