Soul of Darkness (27 page)

And in the darkness of my room I found myself wondering about the impossible odds of defeating them both.

The morning’s first rays of light streamed through the window and right onto my face as I squinted through red, puffy eyes, my drooping eyelids heavy with the weight of a nearly sleepless night.

I rolled off of the bed, dragged myself into the bathroom and under the showerhead, and let the thick stream of warm water soothe me as I let it flow over my head for at least five minutes without moving.

Freshly showered, my skin moisturized, my hair and teeth brushed, and dressed in clean clothes, I felt like a human being again.

Since it was still a bit early for breakfast, I made the bed and lay down on top of the comforter, my long, wet hair dampening the pillow beneath my head.

As I lay thinking about Aidan, wondering whether or not he’d managed to get even a minute of sleep, the bedroom door suddenly opened and he walked into the room.

Speak of the devil,
  I thought.

“I heard that,” he grumbled as he walked past me into the bathroom and locked the door.

I couldn’t help the small smile that spread over my face. Served him right…since he’d read my thoughts again without my permission.

Had it become this easy for him to read me, or had he made a conscious effort? Perhaps it got easier the longer we were in each other’s company.

I heard the shower running and quickly turned my thoughts away from tempting images of Aidan’s naked, dripping wet body, lest he could read my mind from this distance.

Twenty minutes later, the bathroom door opened, and Aidan emerged with nothing more than a white towel wrapped around his waist.

His damp, beautifully tanned skin was covered with a light sheen, and droplets of water fell from his dangling wet hair onto his perfectly chiseled chest as he stood in the doorway of the bathroom as if to mock me…as if to show me just what I’d been willing to give up for the sake of messing around with his brother.

At least, that’s how I interpreted the situation.

Though it was anything but easy
,
I swiftly tore my eyes away, attempting to appear cool and unmoved…which I very much doubted I’d managed to pull off.

And judging by the arrogant grin appearing on Aidan’s face, I presumed I hadn’t fooled him one bit.

Jerk,
I thought savagely.

I don’t care if you heard that 
I then added
for his benefi
t―
just in case he was listening in again.

Aidan turned around, smirked at me, grabbed some of his clothing from the traveling bag he hadn’t yet unpacked, and disappeared into the bathroom once more.

I used his absence to slip from the room and headed downstairs in hopes of finding an already loaded breakfast table. As on previous occasions, Malcolm didn’t disappoint.

“You’re the best,” came out of my mouth even before I could wish him a good morning.

Malcolm looked up from pouring himself a cup of coffee and grinned appreciatively.

“Thank you, lass. Just for that, I will give you the very first cup of coffee,” he said, sliding the cup he’d poured for himself toward me as I approached the table.

“I love you,” I said jokingly, appreciating his gesture of handing a coffee junkie like me the very first dose of the day.

Malcolm laughed wholeheartedly, a sound I didn’t believe I’d heard from him before. His laughter seemed so genuine that it immediately warmed my heart. No matter what difficulties we were facing, no matter how mysterious or unclear Malcolm’s intentions appeared at times, somehow I felt as thoug
h―
perhaps against all odd
s―
we’d become closer…he’d become someone I could rely on…someone I could trust.

At least, it seemed that way.

I sat down at the table, added some milk to my coffee, and watched as Malcolm busied himself with making eggs and pancakes.

“Why do you make pancakes so often?” I asked him, feeling it was perhaps more of a typical American than an Irish or Scottish breakfast.

“Because you seem to like them so much,” he answered matter-of-factly, as though it were a given that my being partial to them justified him going through the extra trouble of making them.

“Thanks,” I said, feeling touched. And since I didn’t know what else to reply, I added, “But, you know, if you make them for me every morning, in future I can just roll down the hill instead of having to use a portal.”

Once again, I was rewarded with Malcolm’s hearty laugh.

“Duly noted, my dear,” he finally replied after having calmed down, still smiling broadly.

I decided to use the light atmosphere to make a request.

“Malcolm,” I started tentatively, “I was wondering about the possibility of going to Brown University to get my stuff. I wouldn’t have bothered returning for it, but…after everything I owned…burned…I want something to remember my parents by. I’d like to get the quilt my parents gave me.”

Malcolm hesitated before turning around to face me.

“I am sorry, Persephone, but it seems like a bad idea for you to be seen anywhere near the University. I believe someone at your school must have contacted the authorities and reported you as missing. Someone might even have posted a picture of you…you could be recognized. What would you tell them? How would you explain your absence? Moreover, if people find out you are here, our enemies could easily be alerted to your presence as well.”

“Then we’ll stop by a store and buy a cheap wig and huge sunglasses…the kind that cover half of the face,” I argued, “Besides, I wasn’t there for too long, so no one really had close contact with me. I believe we can pull it off. Just go with me…just the two of us. Please, Malcolm,” I pleaded, hoping he could hear the sincerity and desperation in my voice.

Malcolm sighed heavily, turned toward the stove, and shoveled some eggs and two pancakes onto a plate.

“How do you always manage to melt one’s heart, my dear?” he grumbled while setting down my plate of breakfast in front of me.

I merely grinned at him in reply and started to devour my breakfast. Though my heart was bleeding for my parents, though perhaps I shouldn’t have laughed or felt hunger ever again, I felt I owed it to them, to the ones who had given me life, to live as well as I could…to laugh…to cherish…as much as I could, even through my pain.

Otherwise, the life they’d given me would have no meaning.

Malcolm and I had already finished our breakfasts when Aaron and Aidan entered the kitchen one after the other and sat down to eat. Malcolm filled them in on our planned excursion to Brown University and asked Aaron if he wanted us to bring back the personal belongings he’d left behind in his quarters on campus.

After a moment’s hesitation, Aaron assured him that nothing he owned was important enough to warrant the extra amount of danger we would be putting ourselves in by staying longer than absolutely necessary.

I briefly wondered if I was being extraordinarily and unforgivably selfish for asking Malcolm to go back to campus with me, for putting him in danger just for the sake of retrieving my quilt.

And the truth was: probably so.

But just this once…for the sake of having something from my old home, from my family…neither of which I would ever see again…I felt that, no matter the cost, I had to risk it.

Just this once
, I silently promised myself and Malcolm, privately hoping for his forgiveness for putting him in danger. Yet, somehow, I believed he understood why I needed to do this. If he didn’t, he wouldn’t have agreed so readily.

Though Aaron and Aidan appeared to have misgivings about our plan, they seemed to realize that there was absolutely no talking me out of it.

So, shortly after breakfast, Malcolm and I took Aaron’s car and headed toward a local costume store, where I bought an auburn colored, shoulder-length wig that didn’t look too unnatural, even though it was rather cheap, and a pair of sunglasses that were so huge that I almost resembled ‘The Fly’.

I donned my new sunglasses, pinned my eye-catching, flaming red hair neatly against the back of my head, and covered it with the wig, finishing up my disguise just as Malcolm parked the car in the University’s parking lot.

Quietly, Malcolm and I made our way to my dormitory. In the hall leading to my room we halted for a moment and assessed the situation. Currently, there was no one nearby, the deserted hallway stretching out before us.

I gazed in the direction of my room and gasped. I’d never really thought about the fact that I’d officially gone missing, that in the eyes of the rest of the world I’d vanished from one moment to the next without explanation.

The yellow police tape covering my door contrasted starkly with the colorlessness of the rest of the hallway.

Apparently, I’d fallen victim to a violent crime.

Though it seemed very unreal, the scene was oddly fitting. In the space of a heartbeat my whole life had changed…I was currently even on the run and fighting for my life. If I couldn’t be compared to someone who had suddenly become a victim of a crime…then who could?

After all…my life would never be the same as before.

Walking toward the door, I abruptly remembered that I didn’t have my key. Though, now that I thought about it, the door seemed to have been replaced, and this one surely had a different lock.

“It’s probably locked,” I told Malcolm as he came up behind me.

“Let me see, my dear,” he answered, pushing past me to stand in front of the door. After turning the knob to no avail, he pulled something out of his coat pocket and started fumbling with the lock.

“Did you just seriously pick the lock?” I asked him after a soft clicking sound reached my ears.

Malcolm just grinned at me and turned the knob. Holding the police tape slightly out of the way, we entered and closed the door behind us.

“Is there anything you can’t do?” I asked, bewildered, impressed…and a bit annoyed.

Show off.

“Yes,” Malcolm answered earnestly, “I cannot hold a tune.”

That had me chuckling while I swiftly walked toward my bed, intent on grabbing my quilt as fast as I could, since it was of importance not to stay too long.

But the bed was completely bare.

“They must have taken your belongings,” Malcolm said.

Not wanting to give up without a proper search, I decided to check the closet. Sure enough, and to my utter relief, my personal things had been packed into a large cardboard box which now sat on the floor of the closet next to my suitcase.

Leaving the empty suitcase behind, I quickly snatched up the box and followed Malcolm from the room. We had barely closed the door behind us, readjusted the police tape, and walked a few steps, when two female students entered the hallway and headed our way.

Just in case
,
I swiftly averted my gaz
e―
though I doubted anyone would recognize me
―
and Malcolm and I hurried toward the exit. Walking toward them, I overheard the students talking.

“What’s with the door covered by police tape?” one of them asked.

“Oh…that? A female student’s missing. You know…I actually saw Professor Chambers carry her out in his arms after he knocked down her door. I saw it with my own eyes,” the other girl declared proudly, excitement apparent in her voice, as though she loved nothing more than to gossip about other people’s lives.

“Why did he do that?” her companion asked, sounding astounded.

“Well…he claimed she’d taken sleeping pills and that he was taking her to the hospital. But…,” she paused for dramatic suspense, only continuing after her friend urged her to go on, “But…apparently they never made it to the hospital. Both of them went missing after the incident,” she finished mysteriously.

“No way!” the other girl exclaimed, “Did they run off together?”

“No one really knows,” her fellow student replied, “But if you ask me…the way he knocked down the door and carried her out…I think he kidnapped her after having drugged her. Anyway…everyone’s been looking for them, but there’s absolutely no trace. She’s probably already dead and rotting away at the bottom of the ocean.”

“Poor thing,” her friend sighed.

I had to fight hard to restrain myself, to keep from verbally attacking the
m
for making such stupid and absolutely baseless assumptions and accusations.

For a second, I even contemplated contacting the police and letting them know that Aaron was innocent, that there hadn’t been a crime. But I knew better than to reveal the trut
h―
not that the police would believe me if I tried. Contacting them would only serve to help our enemies find us sooner.

I could not risk it. Not even for Aaron’s sake, or rather…especially for Aaron’s sake. He would in fact be one of the first to die right along with me if we were found. And I was sure he’d much prefer being a murder suspect to actually being the one who was murdered. So I kept quiet, passing them without so much as a word or a glance in their direction.

Malcolm and I silently headed toward the exit of the building and the parking lot, neither of us feeling the need to discuss what we’d overheard. There was no point, since we couldn’t change what people thought, anyway.

Just as we reached the car, hundreds of students filed out of the main buildin
g―
classes must have just ended.

After placing the box with my belongings in the trunk, I got into the car, fastened my seatbelt, and watched the students gather outside the building on this sunny morning, talking and laughing…their lives filled with a simple happiness and ease.

Wishing I were one of them, that I could lead a normal life instead of being crushed by the weight of my destiny, I took one last envious look as our car slowly pulled out of the lot and drifted away, leaving the students and their ordinary lives far behind u
s―
their images decreasing in the rearview mirror as the distance and the insurmountable rift between our lives grew…

Chapter 18 * Confession

A
s soon as we got back, I grabbed the box from the trunk and hurried upstairs to my room, wanting to be alone for a while. Though I was sure Aidan remained close by, he didn’t enter the room, giving me the privacy I needed.

After placing the box on the side of the bed, I sat down next to it and started to go through its contents.

Having unpacked and placed toiletries, clothing, shoes, books, and other items on the floor next to the bed, I finally found my favorite quilt neatly folded at the very bottom. My heart felt constricted as I carefully lifted the quilt out of the box and held it in my lap, treating it as though it were made of glass rather than fabric.

It was, after all, the only palpable object I had left to remember my parents by. They’d given it to me on the day I’d turned sixteen, replacing the children’s quilt I’d had before with one better suited for a young adult.

I remembered how surprised and happy I’d been to find it on my bed when I’d come home from school on my sixteenth birthday. And I recalled the pleased looks on my parents’ faces when I’d thanked them for the special gift.

Immediately, tears sprang to my eyes, and I curled up with my quilt in my arms, vowing to give in to the agony I felt one last time. One last time, I would give my emotions free rein…before I locked them up inside. Because at a time like this, when everything was hanging in the balance, I didn’t have the luxury to fall apart.

Resolved to bury my grief once the new day broke, I cried all through the day and well into the night, neither eating, nor drinking, nor moving…until I felt I had no tears left.

When daylight awoke me from my sleep, I pushed aside any lingering thoughts about my parents. Ignoring Aidan, who seemed to be awake as well…I heard him stirring on the floor next to the bed…I grabbed my clothes and headed for the bathroom to get dressed and freshen up.

Upon heading back to the bedroom a few minutes later, I found him waiting for me right outside the door. Having stopped me in my tracks, he took advantage of my brief hesitation to position himself inside the door frame, his body taking up half the room.

I was about to walk past him into the bedroom when his arm shot out in front of my chest to block the remaining space. Though I tried with all my might to shove his arm out of the way, it remained solidly pressed against the wooden fram
e―
as unyielding as steel.

“Are you alright?” Aidan asked in a soft, sympathetic voice.

Without feeling the need to answer him, I once again tried to shove him out of my way.

“Why won’t you answer?” he asked in a slightly irritated tone.

“I have nothing to say,” I replied coldly.

Something seemed to have shifted inside of me the moment I’d decided to lock away my grief. I wasn’t someone to easily compartmentalize my emotions. In order to stop the pain, I appeared to have cut myself off from my feelings altogether, leaving me rather colder than I would’ve imagined myself to be.

However, there was nothing to be done about my current state of mind. The others would simply have to deal with it.

“But
I
have something to say,” Aidan replied calmly, not moving an inch from where he stood.

Realizing I just didn’t have the strength to fight my way past him, I gave in.

“Fine, say what you need to say…and then let me go,” I conceded.

“I know what you’re doing,” Aidan said, something akin to pity in his voice, “But this is not the way. Don’t cut yourself off emotionally. It won’t make anything easier.”

“How would you know?” I raged at him, my anger getting the better of me despite my current state of callousness. What gave him the right to be presumptuous about my feelings…about my pain?

“Trust me…I know,” he answered, looking me steadily in the eyes. I thought I detected a flicker of his own pain as he did so.

“I know…because that’s exactly what I did after…my mother’s death…after I heard that she’d burned alive. I cut myself off, thinking it would be easier that way…that I wouldn’t hurt as much. But the truth is: cutting yourself off won’t help you; you’ll only end up depriving yourself of the love and comfort you need in order to get over the pain. All you’re doing right now is punishing yourself. Tell me…why do you feel the need to punish yourself?”

“What do you care?” I spat at him, “You, yourself, don’t seem to know whether you want to comfort or punish me!”

For what happened with your brother, 
I added only in my mind before I went on. Nevertheless, he probably heard it.

“You keep ignoring me…won’t speak to me, won’t even look at me…until something happens. Then, you take me in your arms and comfort me…only to treat me with contempt as soon as I’m done crying. Why in
hell
  would I need such comfort?”

“I’m sorry,” Aidan finally said in a low voice after a long pause, “I don’t mean to be this way. I know I may be childish, but…but I never said I’m perfect. I know I have faults. Though I…might want to forget…it’s not that easy for me. I realize you probably had no choice…that you couldn’t fight the curse’s magi
c―
though you haven’t even once tried to explain yourself to me. But seeing you like that with…someone else…I…I just can’t seem to wipe it from my mind, no matter how hard I try. And every time I think about it…my jealousy…makes me want to lash out at you…and causes me to be cruel to you.”

Why are you jealous? What exactly am I to you?
  I suddenly thought before I could stop myself. And although I was certain he’d heard every bit
―
I saw it clearly in his eye
s―
this time he pretended not to have read my mind.

After a long, lingering look and a painful silence he abruptly pulled his arm back from the door frame and pushed past me into the bathroom, lightly knocking against my shoulder in the process.

Taken aback because I couldn’t believe he was running away instead of truthfully answering me, I stood glued to the spot until Aidan actually shoved me into the bedroom and closed the bathroom door, leaving me alone with my inner turmoil and sudden insecurity.

Was this his answer…that I was nothing to him? Would he have gotten so jealous and angry at me if that were the truth?

Then, why not admit that he felt something for me?

Then again, had I ever admitted my feelings for him? They might be obviou
s―
I had sacrificed my soul for hi
m―
but I had never said as much as a word to him…had never confessed.

Because I still wasn’t sure what having these feelings would actually entail. Because he wasn’t the only one for whom I felt something. Which meant, before I had the right to admit my feelings, I had to make a decision.

And perhaps that was the exact reason why Aidan would not say what he felt. He must have been just as uncertain about whom my heart really belonged to as I was.

I walked over to the side of the bed, picked up the items I’d unpacked the day before from the floor where I’d left them, and carefully put everything back in the cardboard box, leaving out only the quilt, which I folded neatly and laid on the bed before heading downstairs.

After breakfast, during which Aidan once again ignored me, acting as if our earlier conversation had never taken place, I returned to my room where I continued to spend the following days before and after meals lost in my own thought
s―
just waitin
g―
unsure of what lay ahead of us.