Prophecy of the Most Beautiful (49 page)

When Chloe saw her house again, a bout of anxiety settled itself in the pit of her stomach. It had been three days since she had found out Strafford was letting her go home to visit, and she had been as giddy as a child ever since––until now. Now, she was nothing but a bundle of nerves. A few cop cars were sitting out front, but there were no signs of any cops actually being in them. The front door of her tiny, red brick house was closed and she figured they were all inside with her mother and brother.

What would her mother do when she saw her? What would she say when she found out that Chloe had been perfectly fine this entire time while she had been crazy with worry? Would Benjy be happy to see her, or would he be angry that she had stayed gone so long and hadn't come back to him?

Strafford was holding her hand as they walked up the sidewalk towards the house. Ace and Swindle followed behind them.

“Where’s Putt-Putt?” She questioned out loud. Her little lemon was nowhere to be seen.

“Where’s wha’? Strafford asked, but she just shook her head.

"Where are the twins, is the question," Ace said, looking around. "They're supposed to be here."

"They're probably off harassing some poor mortal girls somewhere," laughed Swindle, letting Bill fly away to do whatever Bill liked to do. They stopped walking.

Strafford looked annoyed when he realized the twins really were nowhere to be found. He had tried to send a letter by Iris to let them know they were coming, but the goddess had never answered the summons. "Find them, and when you do, kick their arse all the way back here for leavin' their post." Ace grinned like it would be his pleasure and he and Swindle disappeared behind the house.

Strafford tried to start walking again, but Chloe wouldn't let him. Instead, she detoured off the path towards the big tree in her front yard. She leaned against it, making sure no one could see her from inside the house, and Strafford posted up beside her. "I'm nervous," She said, "To see my own family, I'm nervous."

"Nervous? After all the bloody fuss you made abou' comin' back here?"

"I know, I know, but that was before I had been missing for months. Look! It's spring! I'm scared that they've resigned themselves to thinking that I'm dead and I don't know what this is going to do to them."

Strafford swept her into his arms in one smooth movement. "They're your family. They would
never
resign themselves to acceptin' tha' you're not comin' back to them.
Never
. Jus' as you would never resign yourself to thinkin' tha' you'd never see
them
again. You'd live on tha' hope, forever if you had to. So would they."

She conceded with a nod. "You're right," she said, "You're always right. I can't
stand
it when you're right."

He kissed her, soft and slow. "You love it when I'm right, wan."

She sighed. "I just love you…"

"How could you not? I'm spectacular." And he kissed her before she could make a comeback.

He pulled away a minute later. "Your family," He whispered. "Go see them." He smiled at her reluctance to let him go and kissed her pouty lips. "There'll be more later. Much more. I'm not going anywhere."

"Promise?"

"No. I don't make outright promises unless I’m certain I’ll be alive long enough to keep them. And as you know, there are no certainties when you’re a Prince of
Myth.
"

"You're
never
going to die." She jabbed a finger into his chest to make her point clear, then inhaled. “Your smell. What is it? It’s driving me crazy.”

“In a good way, I hope. It’s laurel. I was born marked with it.”

“Of course you were.” Because he was
chosen.

He smiled. "Now go see your family. Tha’s an order."

He pushed her towards her house, and slowly, she made her way to the front stoop.

Her hand lingered near the door knob.

"It's okay, Chloe. I'm right here."

She looked back at him. His smile was so genuine and affectionate, her heart almost burst with love. She wanted to kiss him again right then, but kept her mind on the task ahead. Her family was the most important thing going on at the moment.

The front door was unlocked, as she had figured it might be with all of the policemen there. She stepped through and all heads snapped up to see who had just walked in. Surprised looks circled the room.

"It's her," One cop scrambled to hold up her picture to compare. While they gawked at her, the word was passed via shouts towards the dining room.

Then things happened kind of fast.

All cop eyes looked at Chloe, then at Strafford. They dropped to the dagger on his hip, then back to her. They lingered a minute. Then every cop whipped out their gun.

Someone grabbed Chloe from behind and pulled her out of firing range. "Hey!" She exclaimed.

"I'm Detective Pierson," A man in a suit stepped forward out of the dining area. He had his own gun out and pointed at Strafford. "Don't resist. We don't want to have to hurt you, son."

Strafford ignored him. "Let her go," He calmly ordered the cop who was holding onto her. Whoever it was had a tight grip and wasn't letting go, but she could tell it was a man by his hairy arms and the stench of his cheap cologne.

"She's safe," Det. Pierson said, taking another few steps forward, "I'm going to ask you to put your hands behind your head and then slowly drop to your knees."

"I won't say it again," Strafford said, still calm.
"Let. Her. Go.
"

The hairy arms stayed tightly wound around her.

"Strafford…" She said.

Pierson foolishly took another step. It was over now...

The sound of Pierson's arm breaking was nauseating, and before the detective had even known what had happened to him, Strafford had taken his gun and had begun utilizing him as a shield. He jabbed the gun up against Pierson's throat while the detective's crooked arm dangled painfully at his side. The others were yelling the usual cop stuff like "Drop your weapon!" and "Don't make us shoot you!", "Get down on the ground!"––-all things that were having absolutely no effect on Strafford. He only pushed the gun harder into the detective's neck and glared at the other officers, daring any one of them to pull the trigger. Detective Pierson was shouting orders for them to shoot, but Strafford was good about not giving them any body parts to shoot
at
.

Knowing what she had to do, Chloe elbowed her captor in the gut. Smiling at the painful grunt he made, she wondered how he could even call himself a cop if little old her could escape him. She jumped right into the middle of the stand-off. "Don't shoot!" She shouted at the officers, "You'll just end up hurting the detective!" She turned to Strafford and pleadingly held out her arms. "Can you let him go please? I really don't think my mom would appreciate there being a shoot-out in her living room.
Ew
, and look what you did to his arm. He needs to get to the hospital, so could you drop him so they can call an ambulance or something?"

She crossed her arms and waited. After a few more tense minutes and several more threats––though they were timid ones––from the officers, Strafford tossed Pierson to the ground. The detective cursed in pain and rolled over to cradle his fractured arm.

"Thank you," She said as she turned to the other officers. "Your turn now. Oh and could you please let us explain what’s going on before you try and arrest him?"

“
Try
, being the key word,” Strafford growled.

She rolled her eyes. "Could you put the gun down already? I really don’t want anyone getting hurt.” He knew she meant she didn’t want
him
hurting anyone, but it went unsaid.

More minutes passed before the police officers realized Strafford had no plans of backing down before they did. Besides, she was standing between them, and she knew as long as she was, there would be no shooting. Guns were eventually returned to their holsters and Strafford finally dropped the one he had declared on the Pierson's chest, but not before dislodging the bullet chamber, taking out the bullets and pocketing them. The others gathered around Pierson and one called for an ambulance on his walkie. The one she had elbowed grabbed the now empty gun and moved it out of sight.

"What's going on down here? What's all the noise for? Have you heard anything new?" A female's voice cried out as it made its way down the stairs. Chloe's heart jumped up into her throat and the butterflies already in her stomach tried to break out. She had been waiting months to hear this voice again, but now that she had, she didn't know what she should do next.

Her mother stopped moving three steps before she made it to the bottom. She grabbed at the part of the sweater over her heart and gripped the railing to steady herself. She quickly surveyed the scene––the injured detective on the floor, his fellow officers frantically moving to help him, the unknown boy with black hair casually standing on the other side of the living room––and then there was Chloe, her daughter.

When their eyes met, Chloe's mother stumbled down the last three steps and shuffled closer to her. Chloe's eyes filled with tears which she struggled to contain there. Her mother looked so distraught and tired. Her pretty face was stained with dried tears and she clearly hadn't slept in days. A flurry of emotions swept through Chloe and she reached out for her mother.

"Mom," She whimpered as the woman made a sudden grab for her and pulled her in close.

Their embrace was long and hard. Beth spent several long minutes rubbing her hands over Chloe's face as though she was assuring herself that it was indeed her daughter standing in front of her. Her tired eyes looked into Chloe's as she ran her fingers through Chloe's red locks. She seemed to notice something she hadn't yet and became fixated on it.

"You …you brushed your hair," She finally mumbled. "It's…so pretty."

Then she burst into tears.

"Mama," Chloe said again as she threw her arms around her. "It's okay, Mama. I'm okay. I'm here and I'm okay."

"I thought you were dead!" Her mother cried harder, her arms wrapping around Chloe so tightly she could barely breathe.

"No, Mama. I'm not dead."

"You never came home from school and the police found your car abandoned in the parking lot. There was no evidence of you being kidnapped or hurt. But you never came home, and I waited for you! Then they found your backpack in the woods by the school. And there was blood! I was sure you were dead and I would never see you again!"

Her mother forced them apart, but tightly gripped both of Chloe's arms and gave her a good hard shake. "
Where have you been all this time
?" Anger and hurt seeped through every word.

"I've been safe. I'm okay. I had to stay away to keep you safe." She looked at Strafford, who had gone statue over by the couch. "They took very good care of me."

Beth was looking at him too. "They?
Him
? Is this all
your
doing?" She snapped. Then suddenly she flew into a rage and running at him, screamed, "
Is this all your fault?! Did you kidnap my daughter?! Did you do this?!"

"Mom! STOP!" Chloe shouted, trying to restrain her mother whose fists were pounding against Strafford's chest and arms. He didn't move to stop her either, but let her hit him as if he knew the attack had been coming and had braced himself for it. The cops were standing back watching, looking unsure of whether they should step in or keep as much distance between them and Strafford as possible.

"Stop hitting him, Mom! It's not his fault!"

"
Did you take my child from me?!
" Her mother continued to scream, "
How dare you! HOW DARE YOU! GIVE ME BACK MY SON!
"

Strafford grabbed both of Beth's wrists.

"Wha' did you say?" He gave Chloe a questioning look that asked if he had heard correctly. "Ms. Clever," He said, "Please tell me wha' you meant. Wha' happened to your son?"

No words could form on Chloe's lips, or thoughts could form in her head that could make sense of what her mother had just said. She stared back at Strafford, questioning him with the same eyes. Beth remained silent, like she had come to the realization that Strafford didn't know what she was talking about. His expression said it all. She was shaking beneath his hands and more tears welled up in her eyes.

Just then, Ace and Swindle burst into the house, almost knocking over the policemen situated in front of the door. When Ace just shook his head at them, she knew something was very wrong.

What's going on!
She screamed inside of her head. She heard the Fates stir, but they said nothing.

She felt the oxygen drain from her lungs. She couldn't breathe, she couldn't think––everything was a blur. Her head hurt. She couldn't see anything. The Knowledge and images started to swirl around in her mind until they were nothing but a meaningless mix of colors. They spun around faster and faster and she swore her brain was swelling inside her skull. Her head throbbed harder.

But slowly, the colors began to arrange themselves around each other. A picture was forming in her mind. She watched the image construct itself––the corners first, then the edges that connected them, then the center put itself together.

It was the Minotaur.

It was still and then it moved. It roared. Then lunged for her.

"Benjy!" She screamed, running for the staircase, "Benjy! Benjy!" She felt Strafford's fingers brush against her arm as he grabbed for her. She heard her mother call out her name.

She took the stairs two at a time, tripping over the last step, stumbling into the hard edge of the railing. She staggered forward and flung open the door to her little brother's bedroom.

He was not there. Why had she hoped he would be?

A familiar image flashed in her mind and something drew her to his bookcase. She started tossing books from the shelves until she came upon her little brother's Hercules pop-up book.

She flipped through the cardboard pages until her Intuition brought her fingers to a halt.