Innocently Evil (A Kitty Bloom Novel) (4 page)

“Hey, what are you doing,” I said, struggling, quite alarmed that he’d even try to pick me up. When struggling didn’t get me anywhere I tried being annoying. Sam had clearly lost his appetite for talking while walking, so it was up to me to fill the silence. “Wow, with moves like that,” I said sarcastically, “you must be really popular with the ladies.”

Sam adjusted his grip on me until my stomach was fully
centered over his shoulder, and his hand was a little too close to my bum.

“Um
, Samuel dear,” I said, so cheekily that I couldn’t help but giggle. “I don’t think you know me well enough to grope me, so how about putting me down?” I’m not sure what it was, but he seemed to bring the worst out in me. For some reason—when I was with him—I had such an overwhelming urge to tease him, to play with him that I just couldn’t stop myself.

Before I had time to
predict it and prepare for a graceful landing, Sam dropped me down off his shoulder and onto a cold stone chair. “I think you’d be surprised how well I know you, Kitty. And for the record, I’m the good guy and Max Tiennan can kiss my ass.” Sam stalked away from me to the other side of wherever it was we were.

Confused again by his strange comment,
I stood up and looked around me. All I could see for miles in front of me were rolling hills and tiny, golden-lit cities and towns. We were on the edge of Saint Jean, on what might have once been a lookout post on the city’s wall. Just below us was a cemetery, Saint Jean’s if I had to guess, and it was filled, not surprisingly, with dark shapes and shadows. To my unexpected and unsettling shock, however, many of them were moving.

“Okay, Sam,” I said seriously, finally findin
g the off button to my flirting. “I’m here and I’m listening. I think it’s time you filled me in. Who or what is down there and what does it have to do with me?”

Three: Bloodlines

Right, first things first. I know I shouldn’t have run away. I’m pretty sure at some point in the conversation I even promised not to. I was doing well at the beginning of Sam’s explanation. For some reason, it was quite easy for me to believe that all the scary things in horror movies were real. That Max and his father were vampires whose pets consisted mainly of werewolves. That Sam had died in the Second World War and been sent by God-only-knows-who to protect me. But, it was only when Sam told me why he was here, why it was so important for me to listen to him, that I lost it. Being told that you were born into a long line of women destined to be evil, destined to be turned into one of those horror movie monsters, had a tendency to do that to me.

Apparently
in whatever crazy reality Sam had concocted I was a
Daughter of Lilith
, a girl child of the demonic first wife of God’s precious first created son, Adam. In the beginning, Lilith had been a pure mortal woman, or so Sam had said, but through temptation and a desire for power she had soon given up her mortal life to Satan in return for an eternal one. With her new powers and everlasting life, she abandoned Adam and their sheltered life together, and set out to prove herself equal to her maker. Sam had told me that Lilith had taken a small piece of bone from her right arm and her left rib cage and poured her breath and blood into the creation of a new life. That new life had been my ancestor, the very first daughter of Lilith.

I stumbled down another flight of dark stairs in another dark alleyway. I’d lost count of how many I’d run through. I had no idea where I was or where I was going. I hadn’t thought
to stop and ask for directions and after Sam’s little fill-me-in, I didn’t even know if it was safe enough to talk to strangers.

According to Sam, I couldn’t trust anyone, except of course him, because everyone was against me.
Even myself. It appeared as though, like my mother before me, my grandmother before her and all the way back to the very first daughter of Lilith, I was now a magnet for supernatural trouble. Lilith’s blood inside of me, her demon blood, was like a beacon to all the evil in the world and I was inevitably screwed. Now, all the evil out there in the big, wide world wanted to unleash all the evil inside of me and harness my power for their own evil doings. They all desired to turn me into a monster like them in order for evil to finally tilt the scales on good. Basically, I was soon to become horror movie monster chow and there seemed to be nothing I could do about it.

A door a little way down the alley in front of me opened
and a shadowy figure stuck its head out. I stopped where I was and backed into the darkness around me, hoping they—whatever it was—wouldn’t see me. I heard the figure mumble something in what sounded like French and then I watched as it took a further step outside.

“Who’s there,” said a gruff and strongly accented female voice.
The figure by the doorway moved slightly and the light from inside the door shone across her face. It was a woman, a very old woman.

My instinct told me to acknowledge her, but my mind, drugged up with worry and paranoia from what I’d just heard, wouldn’t let me move.
Confusion as to what to do seemed to increase my fear of the situation and I couldn’t seem to stay still. My body was flinching from the anxiety of newly formed caution and mistrust and I knocked a small potted plant from its safe perch on a windowsill. It hit the ground with a loud crash, which echoed through the thrumming silence as the pot shattered. Stupidly, I jumped at the noise even though I’d helplessly watched the pot fall seconds ago expecting the same result. I looked up at the old woman again, but she was no longer in the doorway, though the door was still wide open letting the light from inside stream out into the darkness.

“Are you coming, dear,” came the old woman’s voice from somewhere inside the doorway.

I was walking confidently towards the open door, before I’d even had time to acknowledge my movement. My caution only kicked in again as I reached the doorway and looked inside. I wasn’t sure exactly what I’d been expecting to see, but I was pretty sure it never had anything to do with toys. Everywhere, in each corner of the room were shelves or tables or counters filled with toys. Soft toys, carved toys, dolls, statues, games and toy trains, the list went on. The entire front room was littered with them, making the room bright with a rainbow of colors. I glanced up at the sign above the main counter. ‘Cantrelle’s Toy Shop’, it read.

“Wh
at are you waiting for, little Miss,” asked the old woman from somewhere deeper inside her home.

I couldn’t come up with a sane sounding a
nswer. I couldn’t exactly say that I was worried that if I went in she’d eat me or turn me into a monster, so I stepped inside.

“Come through to the back, my dear,” came the old woman’s voice again.

I still hadn’t seen her properly, still wasn’t sure if I was safe doing what I was doing, but I followed her instructions anyway. I stepped through the maze of toys and tried hard not to connect eyes with some of the creepier, more life-like ones. I didn’t need to be scaring myself any worse than I already was.

I finally made it through the shop to the back room, which was a little kitchen, and there sitting at the head of the kitchen table looking solemnly at me was Sam.

“Hi, Kitty,” he said cautiously, almost like he was afraid I’d run from him again.

I opened my mouth in surprise and went to say something along the lines of ‘what the hell are you doing here’ when the old woman interrupted me.

“Tea,” she asked, as she entered the room through another door and headed over to the teapot.

“What,” I answered, shaking my head at the whole situation.

“Would you like some tea, dear,” she asked me once again, this time turning to face me with a smile. She was an odd old lady. On first glance, her pudgy, round figure, flowing floral dress and neatly permed, white hair gave the impression of a sweet little grandma. But her face seemed to prove otherwise. Behind the rosy red cheeks and dimpled chin, were dark, sunken eyes and large, white, pointy teeth.

“Ah
h—y—yes,” I stuttered, trying not to stare.

“Very good choice,” she told me and turned back around to start playing with the teapot.

I didn’t want to know what would have happened if I had made a bad choice. Just another look at her teeth would have been enough to scare me into submission. I looked back over at Sam and screwed up my face in shock. What they hell had
I
just gotten myself into?

He raised his hands above the table in self
defense and then motioned towards the chair beside him. “You might want to take a seat,” he said.

I looked at the seat next to him and thought better of it, then took the seat closest to me and furthest away from the two of them.
I crossed my arms and lent my elbows on the table, waiting for an explanation.

“So, how are you doing,” Sam asked me almost cautiously.

“Want the truth,” I said, raising an eyebrow and then glancing at the old woman again.

Sam seemed to understand my concern about whether or not to be discussing this subject in front of the strange little old lady and he smiled weakly at me.
“There is nothing you can say in front of Cantrelle that she doesn’t already know,” he said. He looked over at her again as she turned around with our cups of tea in hand. She placed them on the table, one in front of Sam, one next to him for her and then she walked towards me with mine.

“You have nothing to fear from
me, my dear,” said Cantrelle. “In my day I was quite the terror of the countryside, but now I am nothing but a lowly seer with a few too many powers of persuasion.” She handed me my cup and I noticed that her short, chubby fingers held not fingernails, but long, white claws.

I looked back up at her face, trying hard to hide my fea
r at the thought of what she might have once been. “How do I know that I can trust you,” I asked her and she smiled down at me bearing those sharp teeth once again.

“Oh, dear one,”
she laughed suddenly. “You don’t. Samuel thought that it might be necessary for me to explain things to you should you reject them coming from him and I agreed.” Sam cleared his throat suggestively and the old woman looked over her plump and narrow shoulder at him. “Yes, Samuel,” she almost hissed and then turned back to me once more with a friendly smile. “I am to explain your existence and all that comes with it, but without my personal prejudice.” Cantrelle laughed again at a joke I couldn’t seem to get and then moved away to take her seat between Sam and me. “As you can see, Kitty dear,” she continued, “Samuel and I do not come from the same side.”

I glanced from Sam to Cantrelle and noticed that Sam was trying hard to not look at Cantrelle when she looked directly
at him. Cantrelle laughed when she couldn’t meet Sam’s eyes and I couldn’t help but wonder some more about what she truly was and why someone like Sam was uneasy around her. And for that matter, why he wanted
her
to explain things to me.

I took a deep breath, finally sucking up my fear, and I decided to ask that question. “If you two aren’t exactl
y the best of friends,” I began, “then why did Sam choose you to help him explain things better to me?”

Sam looked at the table and shook his head.
“I knew this would come up,” he said. “If you had been more like your mother we could have avoided this difficult truth.”

Cantr
elle laughed again, a hearty, cackle of a laugh and it was beginning to give me the creeps.

“You could never have avoided telling this one anything but the trut
h, Samuel dear,” said Cantrelle. “And you are a fool to hope she is anything like her mother. She has Ninetta’s genes and will evidently follow the same path.”

“Ninetta? My grandmother?” I asked, forgetting for a moment that I was the last in a long line of women who had to
deal with the same demon blood problem.

“Of course,” sai
d Cantrelle, without hesitation. “Before I was drained back to mortality by Tiennan, I was the creature who won Ninetta.”

“Won,” I said.
“I don’t understand. How did you win her?”

Cantrelle looked at Sam and then back at me and grinned almost wickedly.

“You really didn’t stay to hear much, did you little one,” she said. “You, like your mother, Ninetta and all the women before you are of Lilith’s pure bloodline. The demon blood inside you, Lilith’s blood, remains innocent to your mortal state until your body survives eighteen years. It is only then that her blood begins to take over, tempting all who wish for absolute power to turn you. I was the witch who turned Ninetta.”

Cantrelle’s words chilled me. T
he thought of my grandmother being one of them, a monster, like the shadowy figures I’d seen down in the cemetery, was unimaginable to me. Although I had never desired to know much about the past or my dead relatives, I never thought I would have discovered anything like this if I had. I’d always believed that there was no purpose in putting emotion into people I’d never known. Now, it was beginning to be clear that I should have thought otherwise. It scared me to think of what other hard truths I had chosen not to learn, what other skeletons were lurking in my family closet.