Amaranth (10 page)

"Fine, whatever," I sulked. "But I think you
should know I have a rule too, then."

"Oh?"

"Friday and Saturday nights, I get to stay up as late
as I want. It's my weekend. No work. So there will be no carting me home before
midnight if I don't want to be carted home. Got it?"

"
Aahhh
, we'll work on that
one. Can’t make any promises just yet," he said in a taunting tone.

I elbowed his ribcage, hoping to knock the stubbornness out
of him. He just sat there and laughed, amused by my irritation, and I flopped
back against the door.

As my pale yellow house came into view, my eyes focused past
the white picket fence, fixing on a dark-colored vehicle parked at the front of
the drive. When we edged closer, I could make out the vehicle’s dingy blue
color. The Ford pickup sat there, parked as if I were its owner, with no one
inside.

“Whose truck is that?” Gavin asked as we pulled up next to
it. He hovered over the steering wheel, tried to peer into its windows. “Who would
be at your place this late?”

My stomach churned while I frantically scanned the front
yard for him. “Um ... I think it might be a neighbor.”

“Are you expecting someone?” He looked at me instead of the
truck now.

“Definitely not.” But he was right. This night was
officially
bad
. I was about to pay for keeping
Andrew a secret. Things were about to get much,
much
,
more complicated. I sighed loudly, reached for the car door handle, resigned
myself to facing it head on. “I know who it is. Just let me handle this, okay?
I’ll explain afterward.” I left him sitting there and trudged out of the car,
made my way up to the porch, grinding my teeth.

“Camille?” Gavin called after me, stepped out of the car. I
didn’t turn around to look at him, just stormed up the dimly lit porch steps to
find Andrew sitting on the rocking chair, a smug look on his face and a bouquet
of my favorite flowers propped on his lap. I clenched my fists, glared at him.

“What are you
doing
here,
Andrew?”

“Aw, now what kind of welcome is that, sweetheart? Don’t
break my heart and tell me you haven’t missed me, now.” His lips curled into a
malicious smile, and he stood up and held out the flowers.

“Is everything all right, Camille?” Gavin’s voice came
first, then his body as he came to stand beside me.

“Ah, who’s this? You have a guest tonight, I see,” Andrew
assessed Gavin from head to toe. “He’s more than welcome to join us, if you’d
like,” he said to me, keeping his eyes on Gavin.

“That won’t be necessary,” Gavin snapped, nostrils flared.

I sighed. “Andrew, this is Gavin. My boyfriend. Don’t you
dare start. I don’t know what you think you’re doing here at eleven-thirty at
night, but I think it’s time you go the hell home before I call the cops.” I
stepped closer to the front door.

“Wow! Look who’s all brave now! I’m very impressed,
darlin
’.” He moved closer to me. “Last time I checked, we
were still together. I don’t see anything wrong with stopping by my
girlfriend’s house to bring her flowers. Care to explain what’s going on here?”
He gave the bouquet a dramatic shove toward my chest as I reached for the door.

“I think you should take her up on her offer.” Gavin moved
in front of me to block him. Andrew examined his face for a moment, laughed
before he took a step back. “You leave now, she won’t call the cops and report
you for trespassing.”

“Now wait a minute.” Andrew pushed his hands up to defend
himself. “I do believe
you’re
entitled to an
explanation as well, don’t you agree?” He looked past Gavin’s face to glare at
me, smug. “Or hasn’t she told you about me yet?”

Gavin shifted his eyes toward me, waited for me to respond.
“You don’t have to do this, Camille. We can go inside.”

I stuck my house key into the door. “Andrew, this is none of
your business. You know we’re over, and you know I don’t want you here. I will
call the police. I mean it.”

“Well, I must say, this is awfully rude of you to treat your
guests like this,” he gestured to Gavin. “But if you insist, I’ll come back at
a better time. When we have a little more privacy.”

“No—”

“Absolutely not.” Gavin shifted, but retained his protective
stance.

“Look, Mr.
Devereaux
,”
Andrew rolled his eyes, “I appreciate your effort to try and be the hero here,
but do yourself a favor and back off. You might be involved in this,” he
pointed to the three of us, “but what Camille and I discuss is
our
business. And I’ll speak to her about
our
business whenever I like.”

“Camille is my business,” he gave Andrew a hard stare, “and
I think it’s clear she doesn’t want you around. Stay away from her, understand?”

I glanced at Gavin as he spoke, wondering if he had any idea
how much worse he’d just made this. Of course he didn’t. He didn’t know the
half of it. And that was my fault.

“I see how this is going to be.” Andrew chuckled to himself,
turned his attention back to me. “Camille, sweetheart, when your
watchdog
isn’t around and you have some time to
yourself, give me a call so we can chat, okay?”

“Leave, Andrew,” I ordered him gritted teeth.

He turned just long enough to place the flowers at the
doorstep, then casually stepped around Gavin. “For you, Camille. I’ll be seeing
you.”

He began to whistle, but stopped and leaned over to peck me
on the cheek. I smacked him across the face the minute his lips touched my skin
and he jerked his head back, a phony look of surprise on his face. “Oh, so
feisty! That’s what I love about her.” He pointed to me, winked at Gavin. “She
always knows how to show a guy a good time.”

Gavin grimaced, and I shut my eyes, disgusted. I opened them
when I heard him on the porch steps, and watched while he strolled off,
stopping to take a speculative gander at Gavin’s
Maserati
before he hopped into his truck. “And they say money can’t buy love....” he
sang while he pulled the door shut.

“I
told
you to let me handle
it. I said I would explain everything afterward. You didn’t have to get in the
middle of this, now you just made it ten times harder than it already is.” I
realized I was rambling, and that Andrew could probably still hear us out here
on the porch. I unlocked and opened the door, stepped inside and waved at Gavin
to come with me. Gavin remained on the porch, his face stubborn and unwilling
to follow me.

“I was trying to watch out for you, Camille. He’s
dangerous,” he replied calmly.

“You don’t need to remind me.” I dropped my keys on the
table and turned to him, folded my arms. “I’m sorry. I wanted to tell you about
him, and this was not
at all
the way I intended
for it to go.”

The door still wide open, he stared off at Andrew’s truck as
it drove away, watched as it left a trail of dust behind it. He tightened his
fists and it looked as if he were cutting off his circulation.

“Are you listening to me?” I walked closer to the front
door, tried to get his attention.

“I have to go,” he said. “It’s getting late, it’s almost midnight.
Get some sleep, okay?” He glanced at me, but immediately moved his eyes back to
the long dirt road in front of us. “Don’t worry about all of this. We can talk
about it tomorrow.” He kissed me, picked up the flowers Andrew had left on the
doorstep and turned to leave.

“What? Talk about it tomorrow? I thought you’d want to know
what’s going on—”

“I don’t care who he is, Camille. Or who he
was
to you, for that matter. Not right now. Look, lock
the doors and keep the phone by you. I have to go.” He rubbed my shoulder, then
made his way down the porch steps.

“Please don’t leave, can’t you stay?” I called after him, “I
feel bad you had to meet him like this.” I stepped out the front door, hoped
he’d turn around. Instead, he stepped farther away. He had to hear the truth,
and I couldn’t afford to be left alone now. Andrew knew about the spell, and
apparently, it really pissed him off. And it was too late to go see Vivienne
for help tonight. “Gavin, I’m afraid. Listen, I need to tell you something.”

“I can’t stay, I’m sorry, I’ll see you tomorrow,” he said,
already hurrying toward his car. I stood there on the porch, crushed. I knew
meeting Andrew would upset him, but I didn’t expect him to shut down and refuse
to talk to me.

He tossed the extravagant bouquet of pastel-colored roses
next to his car, stepped on them as they struck the ground. The roses trampled
and lifeless on the ground, he sped away.

I locked the doors and checked the windows, then set the
phone on the bathroom counter while I took a hot shower. Listening to the
thunder as it shook the house, I tried to sleep. The hard rain became a
downpour and it hypnotized me, as did the old creaky shutters that banged back
and forth against the house in their grappling with the elements.

Listening to the rain didn’t help me calm myself, so I tried
distraction, playing with the new, beautiful necklace around my neck, marveling
at the locket’s inscription while I pondered visiting Gavin’s house for the
first time.
The Duval house
. I pictured the
elegant plaque in my head, stationed next to the home’s front doors, saddened
at the thought of his mother. I admired her maiden name, thinking how much it
suited her, a woman I never even knew.

A memory flashed through my reflections, an intrusive
rupture in my thoughts. In their confrontation, Andrew had called Gavin “Mr.
Devereaux
.” Had known his last name. How was that possible?

I sat up in bed and ran my fingers through my hair, my mind
spitting out a thousand possible theories to explain his knowledge, but only
one had prevalence over the others: He must have known about Gavin, must have been
digging up details on him.

I would get up early and go see Vivienne one last time,
before I went to the police. She knew something I didn’t, and perhaps it was
time to start listening to her.

My mind raced, but the wind outside picked up and I felt my
eyelids grow heavier and heavier as the storm coerced them to close,
encouraging my brain to shut down for the evening. The shutters continued to
rattle, the rain soothing the roof with its repetitious rhythm. I felt myself
begin to float to the quiet place between deep sleep and a vague alertness.

A muffled noise echoed in the distance, glass breaking in
slow motion. The sound smothered me and I tried to break through the limbo sleep–state
of being awake, but not being able to move yet. My mind sent signals to my legs
to move while my fingers twitched. At last my eyes shot open wide and I sat up,
found I was sweating profusely. “What the…”

I cocked my head to the side to peek at the alarm clock. Two
thirty. I’d been deeply asleep for almost two hours. In disbelief, I looked out
the window to find the rain still coming down in soft sheets.

Standing up—I had to change out of my damp clothes—I
wondered why I had awakened in a sweat. I didn’t remember any dreams, and I
knew I wasn’t sick. I walked over to the dresser to grab a nightgown, when the
sound of breaking glass echoed through the house once more, followed by a soft
creak on the wood floor. Door hinges groaned and I froze in place, goose bumps
forming on the back of my neck and arms. After grabbing the phone from the
bedside table and the
Glock
from the bottom drawer, I
steadied myself and moved into the hallway toward the kitchen, listening for
any other sounds of intrusion. Gun in one hand, phone in the other, I scanned
the kitchen, peered at the back door and out the kitchen sink window.

Turning to investigate the living room, I felt a sharp sting
on the bottom of my foot. “Damn it.” It made me wince and I crouched down to
examine it in the dim light, afraid to flick the lights on just yet. My foot
tensed and began to bleed as I plucked a shard of glass from it. Still crouched
down, I pivoted around to look at the floor, stopped when I saw the scattered
trail of broken glass.

Body frozen, my eyes followed the trail and zoned in on a
fist-sized chunk of glass surrounded by small puddles of water, the base of a
drinking glass that had toppled from the counter. Ignoring the distraction, I
grasped the gun tighter and quivered when I sensed his presence moving in on
me.

“Don’t worry, sweetheart. You won’t be needing that.” He
appeared from the shadows near me—too near—and I shot up to stand, aimed the
gun. Wondering if the dark was playing tricks on me, I blinked when I saw him.
He looked astoundingly different: Flawlessly luminous, his pale, glassy skin
cast a contrasting glow in the darkened room, lighting it up. His wicked smile
intensified when he saw my expression.

Taking hold of the gun, he ripped it from my grasp and
tossed out the ammunition with a few swift motions, then chucked the unloaded
weapon across the room while he tore the phone from my other hand. Terror crept
across my chest when I felt his overwhelming strength, and worsened when he
squeezed the phone to pieces, crushing it in its entirety with ease. Aware now
that my life was in danger, I sprang to the counter to grab a cutting knife,
but Andrew beat me to it, clasped his hands viciously around my neck.

“You could have made this a lot easier, Camille. It truly is
a pity to have to watch you die,” he let out a sigh. “You give me so much life.
It’s such a waste.” I reached my hands up to try to fight him off, but the
effort failed and only made him angrier. His eyes turned a cold, dead black,
and his body shook as he flung me across the room and into the kitchen table. I
heard the impact of my body hitting the table, then falling to the ground, but
couldn’t feel it.