Drowning in Deception (26 page)

He hesitated, his eyes penetrating deep
into hers. He looked as if he was searching for words and not finding the right
ones. His face took on a sad look. “I wish I could say that's why I didn't hurt
you, because you're right, I do love you. And oh so damn much!”

Her heart skipped a few beats as her
face burned hot. Why wouldn’t he just take her in his arms and kiss her like he
had the night before? She desperately wanted to feel him against her.

“But when we transition it doesn't
matter. We no longer see what or who we care for, we only see blood and raw
meat.”

This wasn’t making any sense. “But I
don't understand. Your blood and raw meat knelt right in front of you. Only
moments before, your potential meal had been touching you, and kissing the lips
that hid fangs behind them. I saw how you looked at me after you changed. I saw
the recognition in your eyes. That's why you turned and ran. You saw
me
.”

“No, Clove. You're wrong. I'm sorry. I
wish you were right, but you're wrong.”

 Why did he look so worried? She reached
to his face and stroked his cheek, the backs of her fingers slowly trailing along
his scar. “I don't understand. You're not making any sense. If you didn't see
me as the person that you…love, and you didn't see me as your prey, then why
did you run? Why didn’t you kill me?”

His face fell, his eyes staring up at her
with unblinking seriousness. “I couldn't kill you, Clove...” He shook his head.
“It’s not right that you’re hearing this from me.”

“What is it, Rye? You’re freaking me
out.”

His eyes penetrated deep. His nostrils
flared as he licked his lower lip before biting down on it. “I couldn’t kill
you because…because…we don't kill our own kind.”

She felt the blood drain from her head
and something rolled around violently in her stomach. He couldn’t possibly
mean…

“Clove, you’re a Carnae.”

She laughed through her shocked face. “That’s
not possible. You’re wrong. You’re confused. How can that be? It can’t be. No.
No. Not possible. No way.” She continued to laugh. What a crazy joke!

He grabbed her hands and looked at her,
his eyes begging her to grasp what he was telling her. “I’m sorry, Clove. I’m
positive of what I saw. And…if it wasn’t true, you’d be dead right now, and I’d…
I’d be devastated.”

She sucked in a sharp breath. This was
no joke. She could see the truth in his face, in his eyes. She believed him.
She didn’t want to, but she did. He was the one person who had always been
completely honest with her. That meant… Lies! More lies. What else had her
parents kept from her? Was she adopted? Stolen from the Carnae? Was her brother
really her brother? Who were they? Too many questions, too much betrayal, too
much anger.

She hated them now. She hated them with venom
so strong she could taste it.

If she had ever doubted her mother’s
knowledge about what her father did, she now believed that her mother knew
everything. Aspen Swelton had raised a Carnae child. There was no way she could
have done that and not known.

As she got to her feet, a fuming tornado
roiled in her belly. She tore the bushes apart and flew from the nest. No more
lies. Her parents, if they were even her parents, had done nothing but lie,
lie, lie. The drugs, the monsters, who she really was. They were all lies. Pure
crap!

Now was the time to finally confront
them. About everything. She had to tell them she knew the truth - that they
were phonies, fakes, and horrible, horrible people.

She sprinted out of the bushes and to the
door in the Wall with smoke rising through her lungs, stifling her ability to
breathe. Rye was right on her heels, shouting, “Clove. Where are you going?
What are you doing?”

She ignored him. There was something she
needed to do - something more important than anything else. It would not wait -
not even for Rye.

“Clover. Stop!”

She flung the door open and marched
through to the other side of the Wall.

“Clove. You can’t go now. Not when
you’re so mad.”

She picked up her pace, almost at a run
now. He sprinted close behind. “You’re too angry. If you transition…”

She kept going.

“If you transition now, you could kill
them.” His last words faded away.

She didn’t care if she hurt them. In
that moment she didn’t care if she killed them. Maybe they deserved it. Hate
and anger was all she could think of. There was no love, no respect. Any fond memories
she’d had of them were now erased. Gone. She felt nothing but hate, pure red-hot
hate. And she didn’t care.

***

It was dark when Clover arrived at the
walkway to her parents’ home. There was a brittle chill in the air that she was
unable to feel through her searing emotions. She knew her father would now be
at work, but that was okay. Her fury could be directed at her mother. She was
the woman who was supposed to love her, the woman who she always looked to for
advice, and she was the woman who had deceived her beyond comprehension.

Aspen Swelton was busily humming as she
puttered in the kitchen when Clover stormed through the front door.

“Mom!” She slammed the door behind her
and growled, “Where are you?”

“My goodness, Clover. What is all the
noise about?” She came walking out of the kitchen wiping her hands on a towel.

Aspen looked like her usual put-together
self, in a bright pink pantsuit, not a hair laying the wrong way, and
artistically perfected make-up. She took one look at her daughter, and her
sweet grin turned sour. “Clover, what is it? What’s wrong?”

“Where did I come from?” she demanded.
She wasn’t going to put up with any more lies.

“Clover? What are you talking about?”
She attempted to press a hand to her daughter’s forehead, but it was quickly
shoved away. “I knew it. I told your father that I didn’t think you’d been
drinking enough milk since you moved out. Come. Let me get you a nice tall
glass.”

“Answer my question, Mother. If that’s
who you really are.”

“What do you mean? Of course I’m your
mother.” Her face was painted with glittery shock and colorful fear.

Clover crossed her arms and stared
wildly at her. “So then, you’re a Carnae.”

“A what?”

“A monster!”

Her mother’s face paled to a ghostly
white. Her jaw jutted oddly as she swallowed. She whispered hoarsely, “Of
course not. And where did you ever hear that word?”

“Then how is it possible that I am a
Carnae? Did you steal me? Was I supposed to be your pet monster?” Her words
came out with such spite that she could see spit flying from her mouth when she
spoke. But she wanted answers. She deserved answers. And she would make certain
that she got those answers.

Her mother looked horrified, and Clover
could tell she was about to deny everything. Then suddenly her face changed and
tears welled up in her pretty eyes. “Clover, please lower your voice. Let me
get you some milk and we’ll talk.”

She could feel her teeth grinding hard
together and the thick burning inferno in her stomach had returned. “I don’t
want milk,” she screamed. “And I don’t want to talk. I want answers. Who. Am.
I?”

Her mother’s hands flew up in a
protective stance. “Clover, please,” she begged. “I’ll tell you everything you
want to know. Just please, calm yourself. If you turn…”

Aspen Swelton had just confessed her
knowledge of what Clover really was in those three words, ‘if you turn’. Clover
could feel a mild quaking in her belly, and it was spreading outward, up her
chest and toward her limbs. She wondered if this was how it felt right before
they transitioned - right before she would transition.

Her mother was right. She could kill her.
But as angry as she was, it was impossible to forget that this was the woman
who had raised her, taken care of her, had laid a cool hand to her forehead,
and had not left her side when she’d been sick as a child. It hit her then like
a blow to the back of the head. She’d been very sick at a young age. She
remembered throwing up, feeling so weak, and in pain. Just like Abilee had been.
It was the sickest she’d ever been in her life, that horrible flu. But now she
knew. It hadn’t been the flu. It was when her body had gone through the surge,
the change to become a Carnae.

She turned her back on her mother and
inhaled deeply. She took big, long, soothing breaths while she focussed on the
slowly drifting snowflakes that had begun to fall outside the window. Then, as
calmly as she could, she walked to the reclining chair and sat.

“I’m calm. Talk.”

Her mother perched herself across from
her on the couch. Clover could never remember seeing her look so flustered, or
so frail.

“Clover. We love you. Please know that.”

She forced her tongue up to the roof of
her mouth to keep from saying anything.

“How did you ever find out?”

“You are the one who needs to explain
here - not me,” she said through gritted teeth.

Her mother sighed heavily. “You are my
daughter, Clover. I gave birth to you. But…but you’re also your father’s
daughter.” She looked Clover directly in the eye, and Clover had no doubt about
what she was trying to say without saying it out loud. Her father was a Carnae.

Her memory swam with vivid detail of her
father holding a knife as he stood in the light of the helichoppers. She saw
again how he had shoved the butt end of it at someone, and she remembered the
look of hatred on his face as he had done it. He had also cut Rye with that
jagged blade, leaving his face scarred for life. She wondered how. How could he
treat his own kind with such malice?

There were tears filled with questions
in her eyes when she looked back at her mother.

Aspen sighed again and licked her lips. “He
was a young man when he came to Eadin. He hated his life in Quell, was deeply
ashamed of what he was. He said the gods made him feel that way, and he
believed it to be true. They made him feel so powerless and so weak. But he
didn’t hate them for it. He envied them. At least that’s how he explains it.
So, he found a secret door in the Wall one day and came through. He watched
from a distance and he saw what a wonderful life the people had in Eadin, and
he knew that this was the life he wanted for himself. He wanted to be a god.
Then he would never feel weak or powerless again.”

She put her fingers on her temples and
began to rub as she continued. “He found a way to blend in, to become part of
our society, and he discovered that the milk here was special, that when he
drank it, he no longer felt angry or scared. Not only did it make him feel
content and happy, but once he started drinking it, he never changed into a
monster again.”

She stopped, set her hands in her lap
and looked at Clover, but Clover said nothing as she stared hard at her.

“We met, we fell in love…and…”

“Did he tell you? Have you always known?”
She shot the words out.

“Yes. Yes, of course.”

“And it didn’t bother you?”

“No, Clover. I was in love. I was
content. And he assured me that he would never change into a monster again.”

Clover’s fingernails clawed the arms of
the recliner. “You do not get to use that word,” she spit.

“I’m sorry.” She blinked rapidly for a
moment. “We had no way of knowing if our children would inherit…”

“Sprigg?”

“Not so far.” She shook her head. “The
change of the body usually happens just before puberty, and Sprigg…”

“Yes, I know how it all works.”

She nodded, swallowed. “With you, it
happened early. You were five. That’s when we knew that you were…a mon…”

“Carnae.”

“Yes. Well, you were so sick, and I was
so worried. If not for the milk, your own body may have killed you.”

Clover got up from her chair and glared
at her mother. “Were you ever going to tell me?”

Her mother stood up too. She shook her
head. “No. As long as you were drinking milk, you were fine. There was no need.”

Clover crossed the room to the door and
turned back before opening it. “And what if Zander and I were to have children?
Was I to find out the truth the day my baby grew fangs and tried to eat its
father?”

Aspen paled as her eyes filled with
tears. “Clover,” she gasped. “I didn’t think…that is…you’re only half-blood and
Zander, so the chances were slim. I didn’t think…”

“No,” she snapped. “You didn’t think!”

Her mother tried, unsuccessfully, to lay
a hand on her daughter’s arm. “Clover,” she whispered. Tears were streaking her
cheeks, “Please don’t tell anyone. I’m not even going to tell your father that
you know. He’s worked so hard to keep this secret, to build a good life for his
family. This would break him.”

Clover gave her a nasty leer, then her
eyes caught a subtle movement. She looked up to see Sprigg sitting at the top
of the staircase in his flannel pajamas. His elbows were propped on his knees
and his hands held his chin. The sad look on his face broke her heart.