A Vision of Green (Florence Vaine #2) (12 page)

Frank's expression loses a little of its hardness. “That's wonderful Flo, but stop trying to distract me. Has your dad been giving you a hard time? Is that why you're pulling away from
us
?”

I hesitate for a moment before I lie yet again, glad that Frank's demon doesn't give him the ability to detect truths from falsehoods. “No. Don't get me wrong, my dad's far from perfect. But he hasn't laid a finger on me since he's come here, not like he used to.” His only halfway violent action against me was pulling me into the house by the collar of my shirt. For some people that would be extreme, but when you've experienced true brutality, mild aggression no longer startles you.

“
I hate that you had to go through all of that – before,” says Frank in the gentlest voice, like he just saw every memory that flashed through my mind right now.

I shrug, unable to think of anything to say in response.

“
In a few weeks you'll officially be an adult, you can set out on your own then. You won't have to worry about him seeing who picks you up from the house. Flo, I don't like to be blunt with you, but once a hitter always a hitter. In my experience, abusers might lessen the frequency of their attacks every so often, they might even quit for years. But only in the rarest of cases will they completely abstain from returning to their old ways.”

“
I know that,” I whisper, before doing my best to find my voice, “but that's always been my plan anyway. Once I turn eighteen I'm out of there.” My age shouldn't make me feel stuck, but it does. Every day a little bit of pressure on my soul loosens with the knowledge that I'm closer to my next birthday.

Frank's smile practically lights up the room. He really does care about what happens to me, I hope not to his detriment. Sometimes caring for a person like me, who is so damaged and broken by their past, will only cause pain for the person doing the caring. It's why I often wonder whether Gran had always been selfish enough to sell me out, or if caring for a fuck up like my dad finally broke the goodness inside of her.

“
Okay,” he concedes. “I'll pick you up at the end of your street. I'll send you a text when I'm there.”

On my way out of the school I pass by Caroline, Christian and Lia all standing in a group laughing at some shared joke. Caroline calls me over to them. I give Christian and Lia a polite nod, they're some of the first people I met at this school, yet in the few short weeks I've been here I feel like I no longer hold a single thing in common with them. Their carefree laughs remind me how easy their lives are, how lucky they are to be unaware of the witches that once inhabited their town, or how their forest has suddenly come to life.

“
We're all going bowling later, do you want to tag along Flo?” Caroline asks.

“
Yeah, you should come, it will be fun,” Lia agrees. “We haven't hung out in a while.”

“
I can't I have that psychic night to go to, remember?”

Caroline face palms. “Oh right, I forgot, silly me. Sounds like it's going to be an interesting evening. I'd go with you if I didn't already have plans.”

“
What's a psychic night?” asks Christian with a quizzical expression.

Caroline rolls her eyes at her brother. “God Christian, sometimes you can be so dim! What do you think it is, it's a night – with psychics.”

“
Yeah but...” Christian goes on. Caroline interrupts him by asking, “So Flo, have you spoken to Alex recently?”

I'm glad she's diverting the conversation, because I'm in no mood to begin trying to explain being an Empath to Christian. Still, I speculate at to why Caroline's asking about Alex. I thought the two of them were best buds these days.

“
No I haven't, why?”

Caroline's cheeks redden ever so slightly. “Oh nothing, I was just wondering if he mentioned me is all.”

“
You aren't going after Falco
again
are you?” says Christian, his tone a little condescending. “Remember how well that went the last time? If I recall correctly, I had to come and collect you from some party in the middle of nowhere, and it was all you could do to keep from bawling your eyes out after he'd turned you down.”

If looks could kill, Christian would be six feet under by now. “Things are different this time,” she seethes at her brother.

“
I'm sure they are,” he replies with a snide expression. I guess this is a sibling squabble at work. “Come on,” he continues, ignoring Caroline's arctic expression, “we'd better get going.”

Caroline wishes me luck at the psychic night, whispering a reminder to let her know if Alex says anything to me about her. I tell her I will. Happy with my reassurance, she heads off to her car with Christian and Lia. I pull the straps of my bag close to my body and begin the walk home, praying my dad is AWOL again so that I don't have to deal with whatever drama that might be orbiting around him.

When I get home the house is empty, but after taking a quick peek in the door of Gran's old bedroom I see that Dad and Sal aren't out, they're just sleeping. I wonder if either of them realises they're sleeping their lives away.

I make a small bowl of pasta for myself and eat it alone at the kitchen table. I catch a glimpse of my reflection in the silver cooker front, my green eyes standing out even though the image is blurry. It reminds me to try and get Sam alone at some stage so that I can ask him about elves. What exactly are they? Where do they come from? Surely he'll be a better source of information than the temptation to google “elves” on my iphone.

The time flies by, and I realise I've only got a few minutes before Frank will be here. I run to my room and change my t-shirt for a silky purple blouse, tie my hair up in a ponytail and put on some mascara and clear lip gloss, hoping to make a decent impression on the new people I'll be meeting tonight.

My phone chirps with Frank's text and I rush out of the house, grabbing my coat on the way. I slide into the passenger seat of the van and close the door.

“
You look nice,” says Frank, his eyes focused on the small bit of gloss on my lips.

“
Thank you. And d-ditto,” I reply, taking in his own appearance. He's changed his clothes from earlier too, but it wouldn't really matter if he hadn't because Frank always looks wonderful. He has this kind of clean handsomeness, with a small hint of trouble whenever he pushes up his shirt sleeves to reveal the tattoo on his arm.

He raises an eyebrow. “Ditto? That's all you're going to give me? I'm disappointed Flo, I thought I made a real effort,” he says, with mock disappointment.

“
You did..” I fumble. “Of course you did, you know I'm terrible at saying what I t-think.”

A frown marks Frank's face. “Sometimes you say exactly what you're thinking. You did yesterday.”

I open my mouth to apologise yet again for the hurt I've caused him but he stops me.

Frank places a finger to my lips to shush me. “Don't. I shouldn't have brought it up.” He lets out a sigh and rubs his hands on his pants. “I'm an idiot. So, are you all ready for this spoof show we're headed to?”

“
Spoof show?”

Frank glances at me. “I know you're the real deal honey, but the people you're going to meet tonight are con artists. Or people who are either dumb or desperate enough to believe in the lies the con artists peddle them. Hayley's always been into this kind of thing, sometimes there's no talking to her. All of her friends are crazy hippies who think they've got spiritual abilities or something special about them.”

I eye him speculatively. “I think I'll wait until I meet them before I make up my mind.”

Frank grins and places a hand on my thigh. “Always so reasonable.”

I glance at his hand but he takes it away so I presume it was just a friendly gesture and nothing more. He starts up the engine and we begin the drive to the bookshop. It'll take us a couple of minutes to get there so I decide to fill him in on my encounter with Green George last night. I need Frank's opinion, and I want to see if he knows anything, particularly about elves, that could be useful to me. He seems pensive and silent while I recite my tale, and something passes over his expression, either worry or concern. Is he worried about me? Or about Green George showing up in the first place?

“
I've never heard of Green George or Silvanus, but I do know that elves exist. I haven't met one or anything, although I think John has once or twice. They're a more elusive race of beings than say vampires or witches. But remember back when I told you that most supernaturals can breed with humans? So you've got all of these people floating about whose parents or grandparents or great grandparents might have been vampires or shapeshifters, or in your case, elves.”

“
I w-wonder how far back the connection is,” I say ponderously.

“
It could be way back in your family tree or more recent, you never know,” Frank adds.

I nod and ask him about the other thing that's been bothering me in all this. “What about Green George though, if he really is Silvanus, the Roman God of the forest, then how can there also be all of the Christian stuff like angels and archangels and Nephilim? I thought only one religion could be true.”

Frank takes a moment to think about it, when he does he tells me, “That's a good question. And I'd be lying if I told you I knew the answer. What I do know is that every creature and every myth from every religion exists in some shape or form, they're just not exactly what you find in the history books. Religious and historical texts are all written down by humans, humans who have no doubt been told half truths or who've put in their own two cents along the way. So in the end what you have is a distorted, watered down version of what's real, as well as a biased account depending on who wrote what. And whoever told you that only one religion could be true? Actually, who told you that religion is true at all? Religions are just human constructs to keep us in our places, keep us afraid. People have to believe that they're going to go to some version of hell if they don't do good deeds, because if they didn't society would fall apart. The world can't be compartmentalised into Christian and Muslim, Buddhist and Jew. Everything just is. We all exist and we're all in this together.”

“
You're quite the cynical philosopher tonight Frank,” I laugh.

Frank grins before announcing, “We're here. And by the way, I'm not a cynic, I'm a rational human being, which means I think about things before blindly following.”

“
I think that's what I like about you,” I tell him, and he gives me a wonderful smile, all bright eyes and white teeth.

He's parked down the road from the bookshop, since there are several cars already taking up the spaces on the street directly outside of it. When we get inside the shop I notice that it isn't exactly full to the brim, but there are a good few people hanging around. Mostly women and one or two men.

Hayley spots us as we come in and hurries over to say hello. Then she brings us over to introduce us to the medium whose name is Bill and the tarot card reader whose name is Lucinda. Bill is thin and looks to be in his early forties with balding jet black hair and a perfectly sculpted goatee. Lucinda is in her thirties, probably about the same age as Hayley. She's got long red hair and is a little on the curvy side, body wise. She's wearing a floaty calf length black dress and has a silver chain around her neck with a massive turquoise stone as the centrepiece.