His dark, brown eyes feigned innocence as she took the apple from him and brought it to her lips to take that fateful bite. I almost didn’t see the other creature lurking in the trees behind them, a woman’s form that seemed to have been molded out of clay. She was made entirely of earth and didn’t speak a word, but watched in silence from the shadows.
That’s where the dream had ended after being rudely awakened by Dad banging on my bedroom door, telling me to get up. My mouth watered at the memory of the fragrant branches and the crisp, sweet taste lingered on my tongue as I went about my weekend chores.
Dad and Elyse were out looking at receptions halls, so Nathan and I would have the house to ourselves. Grateful for the break from school, I decided to catch up on some laundry. Just as Elyse had taken over cooking, it was my job to sort and wash the dirty clothes. I knocked on Nathan’s door, “Nate, you in there?”
When no answer came, I rolled my eyes and opened his door to find him sitting at his computer with his headphones on so he couldn't hear a word that I was saying. Ugh, this kid needs to get a life. I walked up behind him and pulled the headphones off his ears. He whirled around in surprise, “Geez, Wynn! What?”
“I'm doing some laundry, so bring anything you need washed downstairs.”
“Yeah, okay.”
He kept glancing back at the fight taking place on the screen, so I grabbed him by the chin and forced him to look at me. “Nate! I don't mean three hours from now when you decide to finish playing! I'm starting a load in fifteen minutes, anything you don't have downstairs by then you can wash yourself!”
He swatted my hand away and soothed his jaw from where I grabbed him. “Ow! Alright, I heard you!”
I picked up the hamper outside and watched him go right back to his game. Whatever, I thought to myself angrily. If he wants to wear dirty clothes next week, that's his problem. When I made it back downstairs with the laundry, I set it by the washer and started the monotonous task of sorting them into piles.
After I got the first load started, I sighed and gathered my father’s suit and other shirts off the drying rack to carry them to his room. I opened the door to their walk-in closet and hung them on his side, smoothing out some of the creases as I went. On the other side hung all of Mom's clothes neatly in a row, exactly the way she had left them. Remnants of her perfume still lingered on the fabric, bringing back a flood of painful memories. I fought back the tears that threatened to spill over at any moment and noticed a battered looking shoebox on the shelving overhead.
Hel-lo, I thought to myself intrigued. While I didn't relish in the thought of delving any deeper into my mother’s secret past, I didn't really feel like I had any other option. I needed answers and no one was giving them to me.
As I reached up and pulled the box from its perch, a plume of dust fell down on top of me. I blinked my eyes and carefully removed the lid. Inside sat a high school yearbook from nineteen eighty-one and a stack of letters wrapped together with a piece of twine.
Jackpot! I had no idea what she'd been hiding from us, but if it was anything like I feared, then my family was in trouble too — strange housebreakers and seeing auras was not a good place to start. Mom was the only person who really knew what was going on and she was in no position to tell me. That meant if I wanted answers I was going to have to find them myself.
Dad wouldn't approve of me snooping around their bedroom, so I made sure that everything else was exactly where it had been. I grabbed the box off the floor, ran to my room, and closed the door. Like Pandora’s Box begging to be unleashed, I poured the contents out across my bed and began sorting through it. “Alright Mom, what else have you been hiding?”
The letters and odd knick knacks spilled out across the comforter and an odd stone, resembling rose quartz, or something like it, rolled out and landed on the floor. Picking it up, I felt a faint, rhythmic thumping, like a heartbeat, coming from inside.
What the…?
My eyes narrowed as I brought it to my face to take a closer look. The stone was pale and smooth, without any remarkable features other than the inexplicable pulsing beat. I pouted slightly and placed it inside my jewelry box until I could discover what it was, or if I needed to break it and mail it to Sri Lanka.
With the stone put aside, I went back to the stack of letters. It seemed like the most straight-forward way of figuring out what she’d been keeping from us.
The letters had a French address, so they must have been from when Mom did her study abroad in Paris. Oh my gosh, I'm going to be reading love letters between my parents, I thought to myself in horror. Repulsed by the very thought of it, I pushed the envelopes between my parents aside and vowed that I wouldn't cross that line unless it became absolutely necessary. No part of me wanted to endure their ridiculous pining while they were separated. Instead, I turned my attention to the other correspondents and hoped they would guide my investigation. One of the names I recognized, but hadn't heard in years: Nadia Brenning.
The paper was worn and old with the ink on the address blurred so I could barely read her handwriting. Aunt Nadia had a falling out with Mom back when I was still in grade school. Neither of them had spoken since, though I had no idea why. Nadia wasn't related to us by blood, but she may as well have been. She was Mom’s best friend and roommate back in college. I plucked one of her messages from its envelope and found a picture folded inside. It was her and Mom, with their arms wrapped around each other in a sisterly embrace, her long, ebony hair blowing in the breeze. Her lips were a deep, burgundy red set against her ivory skin — the human embodiment of Snow White.
Nadia was next to her, with wide brown eyes staring back at me and a hint of blush on the apples of her cheeks. She had flawless, coffee colored skin and hair that was black as Mom’s, twisted into elaborate braids and bound together with a scarf. She was beautiful.
What struck me most about the picture was the devotion in their eyes as they held one another. Whatever Mom had gotten herself into, Nadia would have known about it — I just needed to find her so I could discover what she knew.
I set the picture down and started reading the letter:
Dear Michele,
How many times do I have to tell you that Creole is not the same thing as French? Your grammar is positively awful! Don’t worry though, I’m sure you’ll get the hang of it. How are things in Paris? I know your classes probably keep you busy, but I hope you take the time to do a little sightseeing as well. It would be a shame to spend all that time in one of the most beautiful cities in the world and not experience it the way it was meant to be.
If I ever made it there myself, I would probably not want to leave! I’d just set up a cot in the basement of the Louvre and spend the rest of my days being surrounded by priceless works of art. You know me though, I could never turn away from something that had been touched by the hands of an artist.
I have to start on my dissertation in the fall, which means I’ll be heading back to New Orleans. Raffe thinks I'm suffering from writer’s block, but it’s more than that. My future's so up in the air right now I’m finding it hard to concentrate — college, my degree, even Raffe.
Especially with Raffe.
There's something else I've been wanting to tell you —Will and Anna are engaged. I know this may come as a shock, but I thought you should know. They haven't set a date yet, but I'll press for details when I visit him in August.
Until then, I wish you well and hope Garrett's health improves.
Love,
Nadia
I set down the paper and sighed, completely confused. Mom and Dad were childhood sweethearts, they dated all through high school. At least, that was the story they always told us and I never doubted it to be true. I had no reason to. Yet, here was evidence that he had been dating, even engaged, to someone else. What did that even mean? I started this investigation trying to get some answers, but all I came up with was more questions.
She’d never mentioned taking care of Garret
t while he was in the depths of his decline. I’d never met him, he had died before I was born after a long-fought battle with AIDS, but I knew he and Mom were close and I’d inherited his trademark red hair.
Maybe there is something in another one of her letters.
I searched through the pile and came across another one from Nadia around October that same year. I eagerly ripped the piece of stationary from its envelope and started reading once again:
Oh, Michele!
I’m so sorry! How long has Garrett been in the hospital? I mean, we knew that he was sick, but I had no idea it would spread this fast.
I’m sure the doctors are doing everything they can to make him comfortable, but is there something they haven’t tried? Experimental treatments perhaps? Augh! I feel completely helpless.
Raffe doesn’t understand, human frailty is just a foreign concept to him and it’s difficult to talk about. Have your parents said anything, or … do they even know? Not that I would blame you if you hadn't told them — I know your relationship is… complicated. I just want you to know that you’re not alone. I’m here for you and I love you, no matter what happens.
Nadia
“Be careful what you go looking for,” a sinister voice said from behind me. “You might not like what you discover.”
I set down the paper calmly and turned to see Aidan's silhouette materialize from the shadows of my closet. As always, he was impeccably dressed in his typical black ensemble that matched his smoky aura. He leaned against the doorway, paring his nails with a knife and examining them critically.
“What do you want, Aidan?”
He stepped out from the darkness and returned the blade to his pocket. “Well, aren't you feisty today?”
“Finding out your whole life has been a lie will do that to you. What are you doing here?”
“I came to see if you have thought about my offer?”
“Of course not, you lied to me. I haven't considered it for a second.”
“Then you are far more foolish than I originally gave you credit for.”
I blinked at him surprised. “You’re giving up so soon?”
Aidan took another step towards me with crossed arms and spoke with a measured tone. “If you don’t pass these tests then the Elders are going to destroy you. They might stage it as an accident to give your relations an excuse for your disappearance, but you will still be gone. I am trying to prevent that from happening.”
“I don’t care.”
He stared at me in disbelief. “Do you have any concept of what I'm offering you? For the moment our interests are aligned — you do want to pass the trials, correct? The power that comes with being a demon is phenomenal. Why don't you let me show you?”
“No.”
Aidan smiled ruefully, raising a suggestive eyebrow. “What's wrong? Afraid that you might like it?”
“I think you might like it.”
“Oh, I know I would. But why should that stop you?”
“Could it have anything to do with the fact that you're, I dunno, evil?”
“Oh, details, details,” he said brushing it aside. “I'm evil, you're evil, everyone has their moments. But if you want to know about power, I'm the perfect person to ask.”
I broke eye contact with him and gulped, not sure of how to phrase the question I was having. “A-are you really one of the Demon Lords?”
He seemed both confused and pleased by my sudden change in questioning. Standing up straight to his full height, he smoothed the front of his vest, “Yes.”
“Then how did you know my mother?”
His eyes darkened once he understood my meaning. “I’ll answer that if you wish, but I really think you would prefer not to know.”
I clenched my jaw and scowled. “Did you love her?”
Aidan flinched. “She was a means to an end. I fostered her talent and taught her to be great. With you, I could do the same.”
“Until you get bored and cast me aside like a used-up piece of garbage. I'm not interested in becoming your next project.”
“Very well. Though I would advise you to refrain from getting too close with that pet Guardian of yours — it won't end well for anyone involved. You should stay away from him.”
I sneered at him. “At least Caleb doesn't lie to me.”
“Oh, you think so, do you? Between the two of us, I think you'll find he's been hiding a lot more than I have.”
“Alright, I think it’s time you leave,” I told him angrily.
Aidan stepped back into the shadows from where he came and nodded stiffly. “One day soon, you will see the error in your judgment. I look forward to speaking with you then.”
The words hung in the air for a moment as a puff of smoke signified his departure. There was a knock on my bedroom door and I turned at the sound of Nate calling me from outside. “Wynn, Dad and Elyse are back for lunch. You coming down?”
I cleared my throat and said, “Yeah, I’ll be right out.”
The door creaked open without any further warning and he let himself inside. “Watcha doing up here anyways?”
“Nate? Come on, get out!”
He looked past me to the bed and saw the paraphernalia spread out across my comforter and raised an eyebrow suspiciously. “Is that Mom’s yearbook?”
“Um … yes.”
“That’s cool, I guess. Have you found their pictures yet?”
I shrugged, pushing it in his direction. “Help yourself, I haven’t checked.”
Nate sat down on the bed beside me and picked up the dusty album, flipping through a few of its pages. “Ha! Look at their hair! I can’t believe they still have this.”
“I know!”
“What’s all this other stuff?” he asked gesturing to the rest of her collection.
I pulled the cover up to hide it and gave him an impish grin, “Ummm … nothing really, just curious.” I quickly changed the subject, “Did you ever bring your laundry downstairs?”
“Oh crap,” he realized and he stood to exit my room, taking the yearbook with him. I shoved the letters back inside their box for later and hid them carefully beneath my bed before leaving to join them.
Hanging in the hallway across from my room was a picture of my family taken early last year. We were barely recognizable as the same people, so many things had happened. Mom was in the hospital, Elyse was getting married, and Dad was having to say goodbye to both of them, albeit in different ways. Even Nate had grown about a foot and had gotten his braces off since then. If you’d asked me a week ago, I would have said I was the only one who hadn’t changed, but that wasn’t true anymore. I was different. I felt different, especially the past couple days. I gazed at the picture for a moment, letting the image soak in with new eyes. Somehow the photo of my family didn't seem the same. The faces were familiar, but when I looked at my mother — smiling and bright eyed — I couldn't help but wonder what other dark secrets she'd been keeping from me.
Chapter Six
The Threads of Fate
“I cannot believe you wore those things in church!” Elyse hissed at me, shortly after the service ended. It wasn't the first time she had expressed her disapproval of my new accessory and insisted that wearing sunglasses to church was “disrespectful” and “tacky.”
She looked immaculate, as always, in a bright, silk dress and her hair twisted back inside a floral Sunday hat. Her lips had been painted a shade of dusky rose and could have easily been mistaken for a nineteen-sixty’s housewife. Kevin was on the bench beside her, looking every bit as well-groomed and sophisticated as she did. They were a handsome couple, and unlike me, actually looked like they belonged here.
“Why do I even have to come to these stupid things?” Nate grumbled to himself. “I can't believe people still do this.”
His hair was in the same mess as this morning, and he had left his shirt untucked. Thankfully, Elyse hadn’t noticed, or she would have tucked it in herself — it was a constant battle.
“Shhh!” Dad quieted the two of them. “Someone will hear you.”
“Who, God?” he asked him mockingly. “This is a colossal waste of time.”
Dad cleared his throat and scooted over on the pew. “Don't mind me, I'll just be over here in case the two of you get struck by lightning.”
My family sat alone in the back pew of the chapel as members of the congregation filed out the door without paying us any heed. I returned the hymnal to the rack in front of me and slid down the wooden seat to exit out the side. Dad, Nate, Kevin and Elyse all followed along behind so we wouldn't be forced to stay and mingle.
I'd never understood how these good “upstanding” people managed to ostracize our family and my mother just because she had been raised a little different. I may not have a lot of faith in God, but I believe in, at least, living your religion.
A canopy of Spanish moss hung from the live oak branches in the charming little cemetery outside the chapel, where our Uncle Garrett had been buried. Row upon row of chiseled stone lined the little field, religious figures adorning many of their faces. I stepped out onto the damp, mossy ground, picked some Azalea flowers from the bushes by the door, and walked over to pay him a visit.
Our family had come here together often, so I found his grave quite easily. It was the only one that faced west, another superstitious and archaic custom that I wouldn’t have known was practiced until it had been inflicted on my uncle. Usually, it was reserved for someone the clergy had deemed a witch, meaning the symbolism made no sense. It was the old pastor’s not-so-subtle-jibe at shaming him for being gay and trying to guilt Mom into burying him somewhere else. His tactic hadn’t worked, but now everyone that saw it knew he wasn’t welcome.
Over his name had been carved a picture of a wagon wheel — the symbol of the Romani Travelers. I brushed my hand across the stone and felt the indentation of the inscribed words:
In Loving Memory of
Dealing with the Devil (The Earthwalker Trilogy Book 1) Page 9
