Innocently Evil (A Kitty Bloom Novel) (20 page)

I had also desperately wanted to heal the rejection I’d
seen in his beautiful eyes, but I was sure that if I had, the question would have gone full circle and I would’ve been told to choose again. Although I knew I’d made the right decision, especially where my mum was concerned, I also knew the reality of my decision. I would be the weak and innocent little kitten in distress as I entered the lair of the vampires. I knew I didn’t stand a chance and there was nothing I could do about it. It was my choice and my problem and I had just run away from the only person who could help me. What was I doing?

Fifteen:
Asking for Trouble

I reached the crimson door of my house as the sun finally set and the last warm colors of day were melding with the cool, bluish-black of night. Still deep in thought as I went for the handle, I jolted back to consciousness when I found that the door was locked. A mild freak-out ensued until I noticed a dark envelope pinned to the front door at perfect eye level. Had I been sensible enough to have focused on my surroundings when I’d arrived I would have seen it. I snatched it from the door and immediately felt the weight of a key inside.

As we had only just
moved there was still only the one key between us and stupidly, unlike most of the other times we’d moved, we hadn’t worked out a system of what to do with the key when both of us were out. Usually it was hidden under a doormat or on top of the door frame. I found it odd to have received it in a clearly obvious envelope. However, I was nonetheless overwhelmingly grateful for receiving it at all. I hadn’t wanted to wait out in the dark until Mum had come back from wherever it was she’d gone.

The light of day had almost completely dissolved into the darkness of night as I flipped the envelope over and shook the key free. I
t landed heavily on my palm as a shiver crept up my spine. It was a large, ancient, brass key that appeared to be very similar to the ones I’d seen in medieval movies. It was the type of key that would be strung on a large metal circle with five or more matching keys and then attached to the belt of a jailer.

I shook my head at the thought, dismiss
ing it and then looked around into the shadows. Goosebumps covered my arms and legs and I couldn’t seem to understand why. I couldn’t see anything in the darkness, but something was making me nervous and making my heart pound. All I seemed to want to do was run. I ignored the feeling as I focused my attention on the door and tried hard not to think about the eyes I could feel watching me from the shadows.

I slipped the key into the lock without
further hesitation and waited until I heard a faint click, then I went for the handle again and quickly opened the door. With the envelope in hand I ducked inside and slammed the door shut behind me. I switched on the lights and locked the deadbolt, then stepped away from the door, feeling a little safer.

After a moment’s pause, while I stared at the door and held my breath just waiting for something to happen, I
realized that nothing was going to happen and took a deep breath in. I walked further inside and went into the kitchen. Bravely, I closed all the curtains in the room until I was sure that no one outside had a clear view of me inside. Then, I sat down at the table. I placed the key in front of me and then stuck a finger inside the envelope again, searching in case there had been more than just a key inside. I caught hold of a folded sheet of paper and pulled it out. The paper was black, like the envelope, and although the handwriting inside appeared familiar at first I still couldn’t place it, until I saw who had signed it. My mum. Her writing was erratic as I tried to follow it over the page. I even wondered for a moment whether it might not be hers. It almost looked as though it had been written for her by somebody else. But the curls on her ‘Rs’ and the little lines above her ‘Is’ were unquestionably hers.

‘
Hi,
Kitten,’ it read in a messy, silver scribble.
‘I’ve gone out. I hope you haven’t forgotten about tomorrow night. A messenger from the patron of Saint Jean delivered a package for you this afternoon. I didn’t open it, I swear. I left it in your bedroom. Hope you’ve had a good day. Love Mum.’

I read the letter
through twice more and felt a little uneasy. It seemed oddly short and sweet to be a letter from my mum. She usually writes in so much more detail, telling me where she’s gone and why and for how long, and what she expects from me in the meantime. I was quite surprised and suspicious that that was it. I checked the envelope again in case I’d missed something else inside, but found nothing more. I ignored my newly suspicious nature and told myself that I was just overreacting. Mum was fine, only coming home after dark, nothing she had never done before. But for obvious reasons, this time seemed more dangerous than the times before and I hoped that she was going to be okay.

With an uneasy sigh,
I made a practical, but also dangerous mental note, reminding myself to unlock the deadbolt before going upstairs for a shower. No matter how afraid I’d been a few moments before, standing alone outside in the dark, I knew it would be safer for Mum to be able to get inside as soon as she arrived home. I didn’t have any intention of making her wait for me to get out of the shower and run downstairs to let her in. My mind was full of nightmarish scenarios of what could happen in the meantime. I knew that I was probably jeopardizing my own safety by doing it, but I also knew how I’d feel if our roles were reversed. Besides I could always lock the internal doors inside, like the bathroom and bedroom doors. That had to make things a little safer.

I read the note a final time, then folded it and placed it back inside its envelope and left it on the kitchen table. I still couldn’t seem to get my head around the fact that my mum had gone out into the city alone at night. I
rose from my seat and went to the pantry. I snatched a chocolate chip biscuit from the cookie jar I didn’t even know we had and, after unlocking the deadbolt, I made my way upstairs. I turned on all the lights I could find as I went from the top of the stairs down the hallway to my bedroom, nibbling at the biscuit as I walked. I’d also left the lights on downstairs but couldn’t pretend that I felt much better with as many lights on as possible. Suddenly I realized that I was doing what my mum had a habit of doing every night. Apart from the last few nights in Saint Jean, there had never been a night when she didn’t have all the lights in the house on. She even used to keep a couple on while we slept. Again, I couldn’t deny how strange it was for her to go out at night into the darkness that I thought, no I knew, she hated.

As I stepped inside my bedroom, I
put the final piece of biscuit in my mouth and flicked the light switch next to me. I relaxed a little in its bright light, but my eyes anxiously checked the window to my right and once I confirmed that it was closed, I seemed to breathe more easily. Then, as my eyes wandered back over my room, I saw the package my mum had mentioned in her note, placed neatly on my bed. It was a large, rectangular, scarlet-colored garment box, tied at the top with a thick, black ribbon. I didn’t know what to expect inside of it, and while part of me cringed at the very thought of receiving a gift from Max or his father, the other half of me was desperate to find out what it was.

I sat
lightly on the bed beside the box, barely touching it I pinched a corner of the ribbon and pulled. The bow undid quietly and the ribbon fell into a loose knot. Gently and trying hard to touch only the smallest part of the ribbon or the box at any time in case it bit me, I undid the knot and opened the box’s lid.

Inside, under a layer of thick, black tissue paper, was a blood-red
colored piece of folded silk. Unable to stop myself at the sight of it, I dipped my hands inside the box and under the soft, crimson silk and lifted the garment out. Letting the skirt of it drop to the floor, I stared astonished at the beauty of the gown I held in my hands. It was elegant and seductive and mind numbingly beautiful and I found myself unable to put it down.

After a minute or an hour or more of staring at the most captivating dress I’d ever seen, I managed to pull my eyes away long enough to notice a tiny black and gold piece of card on top of the tissue paper at the bottom of the box. Reluctantly, I took one hand off the dress, but still held it tightly in the other, and picked up the card. Four words wove over the blackne
ss of the card like gold silk.
‘Wear me tomorrow night’
, they said.

With the card read, my fascination of the dress resumed and it wasn’t until a loud creaking noise downstairs startled me from my trance that I actually put the dress back down into its box. The world had been so silent only moments before, just a clear, ringing, ear-piercing silence like the constant drone of white noise on a non-existent channel on television. I couldn’t even remember hearing the nocturnal noises of the night that seemed to float through the streets of Saint Jean as night animals scurried around or called to each other in the dark.

I raised my hand to my face and rubbed my fingers gently over my eyes as I tried to distinguish how much time had passed between when I’d arrived home and now. I shook my head and let my hand fall, then stood up with a solution in mind and began searching my
belongings for a watch. After unsuccessfully rummaging in one bag, I left it and took a step towards one of the large, brown boxes. A floorboard creaked beneath my weight and initially I didn’t give it much thought, until I heard a second creaking noise from downstairs.

I paused in mid-motion and listened carefully in the remaining silence. Seconds passed and the silence seemed to thicken and become loud in its own right. I could feel my heart beating aggressively in my chest and although I was trying hard to calm it and to tell myself that everything was fine, my fear just didn’t believe me.

I took a deep but silent breath and reminded myself that old buildings tend to creak by themselves and that it was not an odd occurrence for them to creak or crack or rattle in the night. Another deep breath and a repeat of the mantra that everything was fine seemed to make a little improvement in my frozen limbs and before long I was considering taking another step towards the box and continuing my search for a watch. But as I lifted my foot from the creaking floorboard, I heard a heavy footstep hit the stairs.

I froze in mid-movement
once again and didn’t want to put my foot back down on the floor for fear of making another sound. My heart beat increased violently, until I was sure it was going to beat itself out of my chest and out the window to freedom. Heavy silence filled my ears again, as I strained to listen for a second step on the stairs. I had no idea what to do. Part of me wanted to call out in case it was only Mum, or even Sam, while the other half of me questioned why, if it was indeed one of them, had they not called out to me first.

I glanced around the room, q
uickly, quietly and then frantically looked for a way out in case I needed one. When my only option appeared to be jumping from my window, I ran my mind over the layout of the bathroom and what little I knew of the room at the far end of the hall, which had been claimed by my mum. Unfortunately, it seemed that I was option-less for escape and that the only safe way out was the way I’d come in, down the stairs and out the front door.

The silence
had drifted on for a few more seconds, although I was sure it had been an age, when I finally gathered up the courage to place my foot back firmly on the floor. As soon as I did though, there was a small, but definite creak on the steps once more and I could tell that whoever it was inside was a lot higher on the staircase than he or she had been before. Although, my body paused in position again, the person on the stairs chose not to pause and was soon climbing each step loudly and without caution. My heart stabbed at me beneath my ribs, forcing toxic amounts of adrenalin into my veins and daring me to either make a run for it or find a weapon.

As running appeared out of the questi
on, unless I was somehow able to magically develop wings on short notice, I had no other choice but to fight, even though I really didn’t want to do so. I remembered what Sam had told me earlier, about how my other half might only let me use her fighting skills when she wanted me to and I worried about whether she would consider the person inside friend or foe. In reality, I was at her mercy and if she chose, she could hand me over to the enemy at any point. At that thought, rage lashed violently at my heart and my anger at the thought of having no control seemed to clear my head. I decided that it was time I tried to be the stronger one, both mentally and physically. I mean, what other choice did I have in the situation? But, first thing was first, I had to find myself some protection.

My mind mentally ran through a list of possible w
eapons stashed in the house, but the only things that seemed scary enough were the knives in the kitchen which, unluckily for me, were downstairs. I could hear the intruder making his way higher on the stairs and even though I still couldn’t see anything, I started to question whether I should be overreacting as much as I seemed to be. I didn’t want to attack just anyone with a makeshift weapon, even though I still hadn’t found one yet.