Living Violet (26 page)
31
T
he rest of the night took place in bed, though little sleep occurred.
he rest of the night took place in bed, though little sleep occurred.
I tossed and turned, toiling with an inner battle that had no victor. The efforts left me too exhausted even to use the bathroom. Memories from past lives tangled and spread like weeds, stunting the growth of healthy dreams.
Seeing Mr. Ross's life story play out before me didn't help my sleepless night. I envied the undying devotion for his wife, I rejoiced with him when Caleb was born, and I commiserated the events that sent him down this dark road of perversion. I became the hostile witness to the sick thrill, the conflicted guilt, and the demented reasoning to continue. I knew and felt it all, and I wanted it gone.
None of the food the nurse brought me filled me up that night. I scarfed down two sandwiches and half a cheesecake, but that only pacified the hunger for a few hours at a time. Nadine had warned me of how substantial human energy was when taken in its entirety; that it would take weeks to digest. One would think consuming two lives would fill me up for the next month, but the trauma from the body swap must have burned through most of the reserve.
Whatever the case might be, this thing inside me was unhappy with the new arrangement and demanded compensation, like a child who kept crying for her mother. I didn't have the heart or the wherewithal to explain that she wasn't coming back. That would only produce another meltdown and the diagnosis of schizophrenia.
I had teased Caleb about his spirit being a pet, but it was more like an infant that needed food and attention at regular intervals. There was no self-help book or instruction manual to handle this affliction, and evasion was not an option, no matter how hard I tried.
The tapping at my door the next morning was a welcome diversion. Mom popped her head in the room and smiled. “Hey, sweetie, are you in the mood for company?”
“Who is it?”
“Nadine's mother. She wants to talk to you.”
I sat up straight. This visit was unexpected, but a part of me anticipated it. I wondered what she would say. Would she blame me for her daughter's death? Would she detect the being in my body? Curiosity and the need for acceptance outranked my fear. Though walls separated us, I could feel her presence and I couldn't pass the opportunity to meet its source.
“Yeah, sure, let her in.”
Moments later, a tall woman entered the room. I almost jumped out of the bed.
She lifted her hand for me to stop. “It's all right, child. Calm yourself.”
Seeing her up close, I could detect the years and wisdom in her features. At first sight, a surge of information rushed before my eyesâimages, sounds, smells, and events in which I had not participated. I knew everything about this woman, her favorite song, her favorite food, her political views; I even knew what she looked like naked, which was kinda gross.
Mrs. Petrovsky was the mirror image of Nadine, give or take twenty years. She had the same golden hair, green eyes, and pouty mouth. From head to toe, she carried that tasteful European poise, a fashion plate in casual wear. I'm sure she had to beat men off with a stick in her youth, and probably still did.
“Forgive me, child, but your grandfather is an irritating man. I had to use great deal of charm to get on this floor.” Her thick accent rolled off her tongue like a purr. Her voice soothed my bones, drifting me to warm nights by a roaring fire and stories before bed. The familiarity was intimate, giving me ease and safety that only a mother's presence could provide.
She took a seat in the chair by the bed and placed her hands on her lap, just watching me. She seemed quite comfortable with the silence, but I wasn't.
“Mrs. Petrovsky, I'm so sorry aboutâ”
“Don't. Do not apologize for something you couldn't control. Nadine made her choice, and we all must live with it.”
“I'm still sorry. It's not easy to lose a child.”
“No, it's not. But, you must understand, I cannot dwell on her absence, but only her presence. The years she spent with me were precious, and I'm thankful for each one. We do not celebrate death, but life. Mr. Ross and others like us forget that key principle of what we are. Life is what sustains us. The sooner you realize that, the better. Besides, my child isn't really gone. I'm looking right at her.”
“Mrs. Petrovsky, Iâ”
“You need to be aware of what is going on with you. You will need teaching and support. I'm here to help you, Samara.”
“I don't understand.”
She leaned forward. “I think you do. This is quite an unusual situation, something that has never occurred in our lineage, but there it is. You will not face this alone. I promise you that. You are family now, and I embrace you as my child.” Sitting up, she handed me a small envelope. “I want you to have this.”
I opened the envelope and a thin bracelet fell into my palm. Recollection made my heart jolt in pain. “I can't take this.”
Mrs. Petrovsky closed my hand over the chain. “You can and you will. Every one of my children have them, for their protection.”
“But this was Nadine's.”
“She no longer needs protection, but you do. You know it is not simply a bracelet, yes?”
I nodded with a hard swallow. This wasn't just a sentimental gesture, but an initiation, a rite of passage given to all the Petrovsky heirs. A privilege that I hadn't earned.
“I will take no refusal on this matter, little one. Nadine would want you to have it,” she asserted before I could protest. “For my love and peace of mind, never take it off.”
My shoulders sagged in defeat; then I fastened the clasp around my wrist. My fingers traced over the inscription.
I knew Mrs. P. was grieving and any coping device would do, but I wasn't trying to have another Nathan Ross on my hands. “I'm not Nadine.”
“I know that, but Nadine is in you and so is her spirit. You feel it, do you not?”
“IâI don't know.”
She cocked a blond eyebrow. “You don't? Have you not noticed your eyes, or the strong hunger that has nothing to do with food, or the fact that we have been speaking in Polish since I walked in the room?”
I flinched. How on earth did I know Polish? How did I know this woman's voice as well as my own?
“When I first heard what happened I had my suspicions, but now seeing you has removed all doubt.” Seeing my baffled look, she continued. “Let me explain something to you. When a host dies, the spirit will try to fight it, grabbing at life, consuming as much energy as it can. When all traces of life are gone, it will leave the body and it takes the life of its host with it. Something happened to interrupt the ascent, and now the spirit is with you, and with it, Nadine's energy.”
“Then what happened to Mr. Ross's spirit? Is it in my body too?”
“I highly doubt it. Our beings are gender specific. The human body is small compared to the vastness of a spirit. There is barely room for one. Nadine's spirit staked her claim on you and will not let go.”
I knew what she was saying was true. I just couldn't accept it. How does one cope with a possession? Nadine, Caleb, and his brothers were born with this malady; they knew no other way, no other life. But I was now tossed in a whole other world with no map or compass to guide me.
“I am sure this is difficult for you to accept. And the alteration may be awkward, but we will help you through it. Caleb and his brothers understand the situation and are willing to aid you through this transition.”
“Transition,” I repeated dully.
“Being what we are has its advantages and consequences. I am sure you are aware what some of those are.” Her firm stare dared me to contest.
“You say that I ingested her life energy. How long will the energy last?”
“A week or so. However, the memories are another story. I still have memories from my very first donor, and that was but a taste. So I can only assume the knowledge that came from Nadine and Mr. Ross is now yours. Once seen, it cannot be unseen. I can tell that you are burdened by his past. Do not dwell on the evil that comes to you. Preoccupy your thoughts and let them pass away. Only learn what you wish to learn and block the rest, for it will stay with you for life. What you do with such knowledge is up to you.”
She reached in her purse and pulled out a white business card. “I would love to stay longer, but I must catch my flight. I will contact you after the service. These are all my contact numbers, my fax and e-mail address. Call me day or night, all right?”
When I took the card, she said, “This will not be our last meeting, Samara. We will have time together soon.”
The promise of her return made my chest swell. I reached for her hand as she got up to leave. Smiling down at me, she bent and kissed my forehead.
The meeting was brief, but nothing she could say would enlighten me any further. It was like I'd known her for years. I knew because Nadine knew. I loved this woman as much as I did my own mother, and the likelihood of reciprocation brought more tears.
“Thank you, Mrs. Petrovsky.”
“You're welcome, Samara. And please call me Angie.” At the door, she looked over her shoulder and smiled. Stopping in mid-turn, Angie pulled a clear sandwich bag from her purse and unraveled the top.
“Oh yes, Caleb told me to give you this. He said you would know what it means.” She placed the money in my hand and with a small grin, left me to my sentimental and starry-eyed daze. God help me, I had the love bug in the worst way. Smiling down at the four quarters inside my palm, it was nice to know I was in good company.
32
I
was released from the hospital two days later.
was released from the hospital two days later.
Grandpa had everyone sweating bullets, so the staff almost threw a parade when all members of the Marshall family left the property. Grandpa insisted that we stay at his house until we fully recovered, and Mom didn't have the strength to argue with him. I could tell the extra security and having a man around made her feel safe, even if it was her father. I slept in Mom's old room and she took the guest room up the hall. My new roommate drained every ounce of energy I owned, leaving me too exhausted to do anything but sleep.
Mom must have sent out a press release announcing my recovery, because the Marshall residence turned into Grand Central Station the next morning. Police, doctors, and relatives I hadn't seen in years dropped by to check on me. I didn't feel like getting dressed for visitors, so I stayed in the frilly white nightgown Mom had loaned me.
The police grilled me on the incident with Mr. Ross. I kept my answers vague and straight to the point, not giving an inch of rope. Even after I had disclosed my life story, the officers didn't seem to be in a hurry to leave. They just kept staring at me like I was lunch. That's when it occurred to me that they were under the mojo, so I had to sic Grandpa on them.
My man problems didn't end there. As soon as John Law left the premises, Mia and Dougie rushed into the room and hopped on the bed. I got the same reaction as the rest of the visitors: that look of unease and confusion, followed by the unanimous question, “When did you get contacts?” There was no good explanation for that question. No doubt it would come up often, so now was as good as any to rehearse that lie.
The more we talked, the more uncomfortable things became, especially with Dougie finding any reason to touch me. I enjoyed the attention; however, the look in his eyes was not one would give a friend. When he tried to kiss me, I pushed him off the bed.
Knowing what his deal was, I felt nauseous. Dougie was like a brother to me, and just the sight of him in swim trunks triggered my gag reflex. Mia and I were tight, but not tight enough for her to have Dougie all over me. Even now, she took the offensive and served me the glare of homicide. At that point, I decided to cut the meeting short.
Dougie seemed reluctant to leave, but Mia's hard yank on his arm got him moving. At the door, she shot me a parting scowl of confusion and female rivalry.
I hated keeping Mia and Dougie in the dark, but things like these were kept quiet for a reason. Nadine told me that this secret was only revealed to those closest to us. There was no one closer to me than Mia, but she would have to wait a while to learn the truth.
Plopping back on the bed, I covered my head in my hands. I didn't know how much more I could take. I needed to get a handle on this thing before I lost every friend I had.
That afternoon, Dad and the kids paid me a visit. Not wanting to disrupt the peace, Grandpa stayed in his study and polished his guns until Dad left.
Dad was unusually quiet and just held me, which I appreciated. Recounting the event to the police and family had taken its toll on me, and it was refreshing that Dad didn't press the issue. He was just glad his baby girl was safe. Though his presence gave me peace, I felt that awkward vibe from him that I had gotten from the other male visitors, and I wondered if I'd ever be normal around guys again. He apologized for threatening Caleb, but I could tell the entreaty was just for my benefit.
I was surprised to learn that the twins weren't dragged to the house by gunpoint. They showed genuine concern, and dare I say, fear that their big sis had been so close to death. I knew the affection wouldn't last, but I counted my blessings and welcomed their hugs and wet kisses.
The spirit in me enjoyed their company as well, proving Nadine's view on children to be true. Their boundless energy was potent and cased their skin like an aura. Aside from the usual marathon of questions, Kyle and Kenya were well behaved. They only managed to break two of Grandpa's antique vases and tracked dirt on the marble foyer.
Once everyone had left and the house was quiet, I wandered around the estate, mainly avoiding the in-house nurse who kept hounding me. Mom was still on the mend, so she took a nap in the guest room, and God only knew where Grandpa had disappeared to.
I only visited this house once when I was ten and not much seemed to have changed. It was a miniature castle that spoke of champagne wishes and caviar dreams. It had a traditional design with a spiral staircase and oil portraits of ancestors lining the main hallway. I almost fainted on sight of the last portrait at the end of the corridor.
I recognized the gown and pose, but not the reason for its existence. I had to commend Mom; she kept her correspondence with Grandpa under wraps. My junior-prom picture had been used to render the masterpiece of me in flowing green gossamer. Appraising the brushstrokes and clarity, I realized that he would now have to alter the eye color.
Mr. Marshall had hinted that he kept tabs on me, but I didn't realize to what extent. Grandpa's compassion was showing, a sight that I wasn't quite ready for. Maybe there was a silver lining in all this. Maybe one day Grandpa and I could share the same breathing space without gagging. Only time would tell on that score.
Around sunset, I wandered to the backyard and breathed in the crisp tang of cut grass. The one thing I hated about ailments was the confinement. My inner chi demanded sunshine, clean air, and quiet. The yard was a two-acre stretch of Eden, adorned with dogwood and lilies. Surrounded by God's crayon box, I lay across the marble bench and watched the night make its debut.
The quiet solitude of the day called up memories of Nadine. I learned so much about her, more than she could've ever shared, more than what I could've discerned in years of conversation. She wasn't as pessimistic as she let on and she had a flair for romance. She loved this time of day.
Much like her, I slowly became more in tune with the things around me, examining life through a poet's eye. I could hear her voice, and identify with her philosophy on the world. This revelry brought a sentiment that I would've never entertained, so I knew at once belonged to her.
What happened to all the fireflies? I haven't seen one since I was a little girl, and until this point, they never entered my mind. What else went overlooked along this troubled path of maturity? What other long-forgotten memories lie in wait to be revisited? Have they all died out? Or has the endless procession of time and circumstance allowed them to abandon me? Are fireflies magical creatures that can only capture the eyes of children, the most observant of mankind? Or is it some chimerical entity whose existence depends on one's belief in it?
How I wish for the days of the firefly; for that childlike wonder and to follow without question, to lie in a field of warm twilight in the company of a drifting galaxy at my fingertips.
Those days are gone, I'm afraid. Like a second language, if not put into practice, it fades away. Perhaps, unexpectedly, I will see that fickle light again. And with it, all that is pure and once good in humanity will resurface. That brilliant but ever so delicate light will ward me from the uncertainty of shadows, and I will be once again ignorant of the evil that lives there.
“Well, at least it doesn't rhyme,” I told myself, then swallowed the sob in my throat.
“I hope you're thinking about me,” a familiar voice called from behind.
My head turned and found Caleb leaning against a tree, wearing a week's worth of stubble and a huge grin on his face. Judging by the ripped T-shirt and leaves in his hair, he had resorted to breaking and entering to see me. My chest hummed with activity at the thought of my knight scaling the walls in search of his maiden fair. I don't know what thrilled me more, the sight of him, or the slushy in his hand.
Reaching out like a needy toddler, I bounced in my seat. “Please tell me that's for me.”
He pulled the cup behind his back. “Maybe.”
“Don't play with me. I'm a girl possessed.”
“I'll say.” He handed me the cup and watched me guzzle the frozen goodness. “Easy nowâyou'll get brain freeze.”
“I can't help it.”
His smile dropped as he lifted my chin to face him. He stared into my eyes, regarding the new life behind them. “Extraordinary,” he whispered. “Absolutely extraordinary.”
I snatched away from him. “Don't you start. The last thing I want is everyone treating me like a sideshow freak.”
“I'm sorry, but you gotta admit, it's freaky as hell. I mean, I've never known anyone to acquire a sentient being. We're just born with it. How do you feel?”
I gave him room to sit. “Hungry.”
“I figured as much, but the slushy's not gonna cut it. I guess I'll have to train you on feeding.”
“You don't have to. I know how to do it.”
“You do?”
I tapped my forehead proudly. “I know what Nadine knows.”
He nodded and kissed the top of my head. “Have you named your spirit yet?”
I winced. “Um, no. I haven't even acknowledged it yet, and you're talking about naming it?”
“The sooner you identify with it, the easier it will be to tame it.”
I stared sideways at him. Caleb had a ton of nerve trying to school me, when he dealt with the same issue less than a month ago. Not having the strength to fuss him out, I kept my mouth busy with strawberry-flavored ice.
After a moment, he asked, “Did your mom tell you what happened?”
“Yeah, I heard about the arrest. That must've been fun.”
“Time of my life,” he said. “Haden is out of the hospital, cussing mad for missing out on the action. But I can tell he's grieving. Brodie and Michael are taking care of Dad's funeral arrangements.”
The mention of his father lanced a blade through my heart. How could he even look at me after what I did? I had succeeded in not thinking about Mr. Ross and his past for a full three hours, praying that those memories would pass away with his energy.
Hesitantly, I touched Caleb's arm. “I'm sorry, Caleb. This must be hard for you. I don't know how I could handle it if my dad died.”
Caleb's lips pulled into a tight line. The sudden drain of color in his face became as clear as the restrained anger fueling his next words. “My father died five years ago in a hospital room in Paris. I've already grieved for that loss, and I don't feel anything now but disgust. That ... thing killed my friend and it would've done the same to you, and I wasn't strong enough to do anything about it. I don't blame you, so stop feeling guilty. You and your mom are safe, and my brothers and I can move on with our lives. I should be thanking you. But I won't.” He attempted a smile that didn't quite reach his eyes. “I'm here for you. Whatever you're going through, I've been there.”
I stared out to the dimming garden as that night replayed in my head. “The whole thing was insane. I didn't have control over my body, like I stepped outside of myself.”
He caressed my hand. “Now do you see why I don't like to fight? The spirit takes over and your control is gone. You can never lose it, Sam. You have to be aware of yourself at all times.”
Whether it was the brain freeze or the onslaught of information, I developed a headache. “I know, and I appreciate that. Right now, I just need time.” Standing up, I moved to a more secluded area of the garden. The moon spied through the blossoms overhead; nocturnal life chirped and buzzed around us.
Caleb followed me, his movements careful and unhurried. It was hard to explain how one sense can mimic another. It took an exceptional mind to understand how animals can smell fear, how the deaf can see sound, or how I was now able to relate to the skill. But Caleb's anxiety wafted off his body like a dense cloud of funk.
The extrasensory was unnecessary; his disheveled clothes and the bags under his eyes told it all. Cake Boy was worried sick. I sat in a soft patch of grass and waited for him to join me.
He remained standing. “You're tired. You need rest.”
I felt the void of his retreat immediately. Before he could take another step, I pulled him back. “I don't want you to go. In fact, you're the only one I need with me now.”
With feline grace, he crawled along the grass, stalking closer with eyes zeroing in on my every move. His nearness had me inching back until my head struck a tree. He hovered over me with his weight resting on his elbows.
His fingers brushed against my lips. “Have I ever told you how pretty you are?”
“No. That would involve, you know, romance.”
“Wouldn't want that, now would we?” he whispered against my neck. Lips and tongue dragged along my throat. His stubble scraped against my skin. He was goading me on purpose. I was in a delicate state and vulnerable to his advances, or at least that was my excuse for pinning him to the ground. The new position got his attention.
Other books
Countdown: The Liberators-ARC by Tom Kratman
Slayed by Amanda Marrone
Angel Food and Devil Dogs by Liz Bradbury
Holiday Havoc by Terri Reed
Splendors and Glooms by Laura Amy Schlitz
Fame by Tilly Bagshawe
Helena's Demon by Charisma Knight
Time Traders II: The Defiant Agents Key Out of Time by Andre Norton
Dear Emily (Forever Family) by Trudy Stiles
The Art of Fielding: A Novel by Chad Harbach