Temper: Book One of the Taboo Series, page 20
I was too late. Her foot caught Anya before I could stop it and Anya reeled.
Anya caught her balance as the waitress slammed into the brick wall. I cringed as the man rocketed away.
“Sorry about that,” I lied to the girl. Blood streamed down her lips from her nose. Mascara flowed across her face, and one lens of her glasses was cracked.
She was stupid to try to interfere and not see the evil in the man’s eyes. I recognized it so easily. His spirit dwelled in the same kind of doom as Elizabeth’s. I glanced at Anya, empathetic for her life having been touched by her own demon.
Anya spun, searching the heavy traffic as she ran to end of the block. I heard her loud, seething curses and screams of rage. She was beautiful.
“He’s gone,” she announced as she stomped back to us. She looked over the now terrified waitress. I picked up her name tag, ‘Maggie,’ and handed it to her.
I became engrossed in the terror of her dark eyes. Anya grabbed my hand and yanked me away from the girl.
“She’s going to scream for help,” Anya whispered. I let her drag me away as the waitress's voice pierced our ears.
✷✴✷
I was exhilarated, deflated, defeated, and conflicted as Anya let me drive us too fast along the interstate.
“He’s long gone now,” she finally huffed. Frustration and tears filled her voice. Though she was pained, I heard her strength. Anya would never break the way I did.
I was dim compared to her raging fire. She was the sun, burning yet she gifted life. I was the moon- dark, pale, and mostly hidden. I envied her.
I lifted my hand in an awkward pat of comfort. She laughed, accustomed to my sympathetic gestures.
“I won’t give up,” she announced. She stared at me as though expecting an argument.
“I’m always here to accidentally bust someone’s face in if you need it,” I offered.
“And I’m always here to keep you from going too far.”
I grinned at her, my spirit alive and free for the first time since the private moment I shared with Hugh in a dingy, poorly lit bathroom.
Anya had proven her own calculated temper. She possessed more willpower and intelligence when it came to controlling it than I could ever dream of containing. I was a child freshly born into the freedom of rage.
Our friendship strengthened through that strange battlefield of a day. I no longer envied her life, finally understanding she had, indeed, struggled. That day became held in our minds as a quiet secret and rarely spoken about. The pain we endured and dealt was oddly cherished.
✷✴✷
I was drained before I even climbed out of bed the morning of Christmas eve. I stared across at the black gown as I threw off the blanket.
Anya was alert at the table though unusually quiet. Her eyes were hard as she smiled conspiratorially at me.
“The escort should be here around five,” I told her. I sat and relaxed with the scent of the coffee Stan made extra strong for me.
“You’ll be careful?” he asked. His tone failed to mask his fear.
I nodded solemnly. “I never thought I’d have to step back into that house,” I admitted. I felt my vulnerability radiate through the room. I stared into his kind, knowing brown eyes as he squeezed my hand in comfort.
“I wish you wouldn’t. Will you at least take the gun with you, in case you need it?”
I laughed and shook my head. “I don’t have anywhere to hide it in my dress.” Disapproval darkened his face the way I imagined Father would have shown as Anya laughed into her hand.
“I have years of experience with self-defense. I can show you some things,” she promised.
I nodded in gratitude. She obviously had some kind of training after taking down a man twice her size to make him kneel before her blade.
She explained techniques but my mind began drifting. I would go the ball, not in obedience but in hopes for one more sighting of my ghost. Memories of his trembling rage, seething voice, and rough hand holding me delicately surfaced. I would free him from his gilded cage and release him into the wild where he belonged.
I wasn’t particularly scared of the house. I knew better than to let myself get backed into an empty room. My worst fear was seeing him. I was afraid to break him in the process of handing him the tools to free himself. New realizations twisted my heart.
I would never see him again. I would make sure to thank him if Anya and Stan’s testimonies were true. If they weren’t, I would at least break him from the villain. Because I loved him, I would liberate him regardless of the carnage it would create inside myself.
I knew what would come. I could already hear the words and see his face marred with disdain as he told me what I needed to hear.
“I never loved you,” the fantasy glowed dimly in my thoughts. I would hand him the journal. I would tell him the truth about his paternity. He would see how venomous Elizabeth was and how impossible their life could be. He would be free, flee, and find refuge and safety away from her. The further he went the more I would be able to live.
My determination of strength began to quiver as the minutes towards the reunion ticked. I was in love with my cousin. I had always loved him, even as a child. I lost him so many times. He saved me too often. I was weakened to him. We were suffocated by a lineage neither of us asked for.
I eventually steadied myself. If nothing else, I would walk tall and daring into the den of lions and was determined to return unscathed.
Anya's voice recaptured my attention, “Are you alright?”
I smiled and tried to nod but it felt too deep a lie. “No. I’m angry, and hurt, and annoyed because after all of this time I should have healed.”
I sighed and stared down at my hands. I hoped she would assume I was speaking of the terrors I suffered at Elizabeth’s hand. I still didn’t understand how the knowledge of our relations didn’t harden me to him. There was something wrong with me.
Her voice was soft and comforting as she met my eyes, “Hugh is all of the family I have left.”
I nodded apologetically. “But, I still reserve the right to feel slighted by him.”
“I know him well enough to see there are pieces you’re missing. You were always his ‘one’. That never changed.”
A cold smirk lifted my face. “He wasn’t affectionate when he threatened me the last time I saw him. He told me I wasn’t safe yet.” I watched her expression, hoping for her own sake she would take him off the pedestal.
Her lips puckered as though trying to fend off laughter. “That sounds like a warning to me, especially with the Elizabeth episode you explained.”
I wanted to shake my head and deny it. My mind cracked with light at the realistic explanation. Not even I could argue against the possibility. The black town car of Elizabeth’s must have been what caught his eyes the day he brought me home.
“Maybe,” I conceded as my heart fluttered. “But he still chose to be with Elizabeth, even after all she did to me, even to him. So I didn’t matter as much as he claimed.”
I huffed, shaking the thoughts and weaknesses from my mind as she straightened beside me. I rose to lead her to my bedroom so we could ready, praying for a distraction.
Anya’s voice followed me with her feet, “She doesn’t even seem to realize who he is. She called him William when I went to their house. I’m hoping I can talk some sense into him. No one’s life is worth the sacrifice of his.”
She truly believed Hugh was the victim. I selfishly hoped she was wrong.
Chapter 41- Grate
We readied in the bathroom. She perfected her curls with the iron as I debated how to style my own.
Hugh never cared much about how I looked besides the state of my health. I was smeared with blood the first time he called me beautiful.
I tried to remind myself it was all a farce. I couldn’t wander into their mansion with any weak notions. I stared at the silver eyes in the mirror and forced myself to strengthen.
Anya crept behind me with the hot iron in her hands and an idea in her eyes. “Curls don’t stay in my hair,” I told her firmly, glaring at her mischievous grin.
I relented as she begged, her doe eyes refusing negation. I gasped as she sprayed my hair, iron twisting loosely around the ends with a hiss.
“It’s ok, it’s safe, your hair’s fine,” she repeated. I sighed in relief and grinned in gratitude as romantic, side-swept curls tumbled over my shoulder.
We traded makeup styles. I showed her how to keep her soft, innocent look with pale, natural colors and emphasized her gorgeous eyes.
She taught me how to paint my face with daring contours and line my eyes so they peered back at me sultry and smoldering, though she knew the mask concealed them with lace. I would see the party through the fabric yet no one could pry into my thoughts.
She peered at my mouth before digging into her own makeup bag. She lined my lips and filled them with a color matching my skin tone, creating the effect of a macabre, startling doll. It was unsettling and perfect.
I helped Anya into her ethereal gown. The diamonds and crystals reflected a mind shattering glow as I tied the mask over her face. She smiled at her own reflection before turning to thank me.
I pulled the black dress over myself and made sure I was sufficiently covered. Doubt flickered in my mind again as I looked over my reflection.
The wide slits made my legs more visible than I usually preferred and the fabric clung to my hips.
I was insane with jealousy and rage when I designed the gown. I still was. I had been for too long.
Anya’s gaze told me she approved. “You’re gorgeous,” she said as she held the mask to my eyes. She was careful positioning the long fingers of plaster across my cheekbones as the top curled into my hair like horns.
I glanced into the mirror and gasped at the sight of us. An angel glinted in the light with her arm entwined with fear incarnate.
Anya opened the door to a gentle knock. Dimitri drank her in. The awe made his pupils swell. I couldn’t hear the whisper he uttered in her ear. The way her lashes dipped low as she lifted her lips to his made me nostalgic for romance. I shuttered the emotions away.
He glanced at me as he held Anya against his chest, “There’s a vehicle pulling down the drive. I believe your escort is here.”
I nodded thanks and turned to adjust the dress one last time, “Stop fidgeting,” Anya demanded and grabbed my hand.
I felt as though my ankles would break in the razor-sharp heels. It was the first time I’d worn them in too long. Anya seemed to float down the stairs in her stilettos.
We could hear Stan opening the door and listened for the greeting as I pulled a long, hooded, white cloak from the coat closet. I handed it to Dimitri to help Anya into it. I chattered about the sheep who gifted me the wool on a tiny farm a few miles south and how the owners were vocal about their humane treatment.
Stan came into view as I shrugged into my long, black coat. His face was crimson with annoyance. Before I could question him a man stepped out from behind Stan. His wicked smile widened as he looked me over.
I closed my coat as I stared at the auburn hair, golden tan, and hunter green eyes. “What are you doing here, Beau?”
He glanced down to his own polished shoes and drew a red mask from behind his back, “I’m here to escort you to the ball, madam.”
He lifted the mask to his face. The low chuckle behind the glinting, gaudy paint made him seem clownish. My rage piqued as my hands shook against the coat’s clasp.
I spun to the hutch and began throwing open drawers. My hands calmed and became controlled as I realized what needed.
I held the power of the local police behind me. My fingers curled around the cool metal of the gun. I could get away with murder.
Strong, wide hands shot out to stop me, holding my back to the den. Dimitri’s calm whisper filled me as I shuddered against the tears.
“You don’t want to become her.”
My grip loosened on the gun as I mourned the freedom the action would have granted me. I sulked as I turned back, knowing it would have been the perfect Christmas present to myself.
I turned to Beau and straightened my spine. “We aren’t going anywhere with you. We’ll drive ourselves.”
His gaze lingered over Anya’s figure. Dimitri turned himself in front of her as his eyes pierced Beau with threats. I glared at the clown though his mask was hanging to his side.
His eyes snapped back to mine. “If you don’t come with me,” he replied with calm humor, “I’ll be forced to tell Elizabeth of your disobedience. There’s no telling what she might do. After all, we both know what she’s capable of.” He stepped closer to me.
Stan grimaced in disgust. He knew about the first time Beau cornered me and had detested him since. I filled with sympathy, knowing it would hurt him to watch me walk away with Beau.
I glanced at Anya. “You don’t need to come if you don’t want to,” I said, trying to warn her of the danger with my tone without showing fear. I suddenly wished she could see my eyes.
She lifted a defiant brow as the warning settled into her thoughts. “I want nothing more than to be with you this evening.” The way she threw her words at Beau was a threat of her own.
I looked away from Stan’s frightened eyes as Dimitri pressed a long, loving kiss on Anya’s lips.
Beau leaned close to my ear and my stomach twisted in disgust. “I told you I’d have you, a long time ago. I’m done being evaded.”
I pulled away and lifted the diary from the coffee table. I held it close to my chest as I stepped through the house and out the front door.
I felt him following me, a murderer and a demon. I settled into the backseat of his car, in his power, and swallowed as Anya did the same.
Chapter 42- Crush
The drive was silent and long. He watched me in the rearview mirror too often. I returned Anya’s soft laugh of relief as we pulled in front of the mansion, surprised at my own reaction.
She stiffened next to me as her eyes trained on the steps to the house. The memory of Hugh fighting to reach her fogged her vision. Her hand reached to give mine a squeeze, whether for or in comfort I was unsure.
The door opened as a servant bowed me from the car. Beau tossed him the keys and waited for us to join him.
Anya hooked my arm. We stood behind Beau and waited for him to lead with the diary tucked safely in Anya’s hands.
Terror, images, memories, and nightmares crept through my being. We joined the swirling pool of colors of people pressing into the entry hall. I held my head high as I stared up at the modern-day castle and wished Anya luck as she sought to destroy the queen.
As we stepped into the house a hand reached to retrieve my coat. I turned to thank the gentleman but his mouth gaped at my draping, sweeping gown.
I tried to hide the fluster of nerves his reaction created and stepped away to join an uncloaked Anya against the wall. I took the diary and hugged it to my thighs, granting Anya her freedom to seek out my monster.
“This house is ridiculous,” she whispered into her hand, grinning at me. A smile forced across my lips while I tried to fight back the traumatic memories. “Show me around?” she asked. I nodded, happy to escape the hot crowd.
We halted at the swell of music and lull of the crowd. Everyone turned for Elizabeth's entrance.
She descended the steps in a royal blue gown with a silver mask held to her face to cover her wickedness. I was captivated by the God granting her his arm, standing still as he stared out. Mechanical.
I reminded myself he couldn’t recognize me as my heart began to scream for his. He couldn’t see my eyes or face. He probably expected me to be the angel.
I felt as though his eyes connected with mine over the crowd. Paranoia clawed up my throat. His chest stilled but I couldn’t look away.
Elizabeth’s focus skipped over the room. I felt it in her gaze as it slipped passed me. She was searching for me. I followed her eyes to Beau who nodded in our direction.
Grandmother’s gaze fell on the angel wings and glittering mask. She pulled a benevolent smile across her lips and dipped into the crowd. The sea of guests split as Elizabeth made her way to Anya.
I reached out as Anya grinned at me and stepped to the side. Strangers spilled into the distance between us. I gripped the diary and craned my neck as my heart stammered.
Voices of guests drowned out the conversation before me. Elizabeth’s gaze never stopped searching the room. Her eyes glinted with disdain at Anya’s words as Beau appeared at her side.
I tried not to press myself against the wall in fear as he pointed me out amongst the crowd. She took in my gown before her pale eyes widened in shock and, strangely, appreciation. When Anya turned back to me she wore a smirk of pride.
“I thought she was going to implode,” she laughed. I couldn’t look away from the conniving glances Elizabeth and Beau threw at me or the way his teeth bared in a grin at the words whispered in his ear.
Anya strained her neck, searching over the heads. “Have you seen Hugh yet?” she asked.
“You did, too.” My voice tried to lock itself closed. I nodded to the stairs from where he disappeared. “Let me show you to his room,” I grabbed her hand and guided Anya towards the stairs.
I lead Anya up to the red room, knocked lightly, and waited for a response. She pressed an ear to the door and turned the knob, peeking in.
“He must have stayed downstairs,” she muttered as she stepped onto the carpet. I couldn’t contain the nerves and gagged from the anxiety. Her eyes widened as she waited for me to explode. “You ok?” she asked as I calmed.
I hesitated at the door and nodded as she turned on the light. It felt wrong. The room looked no different than it had a year before.
It was strange to see the handful of his clothes hanging in the closet but the fact that it was open was ominous. It wasn’t Hugh’s way of doing things. The clothes hung off center from their hangers and the colors mingled without order.
Anya opened the drawer of the nightstand and frowned. She opened dressers and glared around. “Are you sure this is his room?” she asked. She stared at the closet, the solitary, pitiful sign of him living in the room.
