Chapter 8 #3
I opened the fridge and began throwing out leftovers. I made myself something small to eat, though I wasn’t really hungry.
Afterward, I unloaded and reloaded the dishwasher. I needed to keep moving. I didn’t want to think—about anything.
I worked my way through the house, room by room, searching for anything we might have left behind. I combed through my bedroom carefully and remade the bed, smoothing the blankets flat as if erasing any sign I had ever been there.
An hour later, I had gathered a small pile of forgotten items and placed them neatly on the dining table.
I was unloading the dishwasher again, when the doorbell rang.
I walked to the door and opened it. A worried Ronan stood in front of me looking tired.
“Can I speak with ye?”
I walked away, leaving the door open behind me.
“I really wish you wouldn’t,” I hollered into the air as he followed me into the kitchen.
I began putting dishes away, refusing to look at him.
“Are ye really leaving?” he asked. “I’m sorry. Ye weren’t ready to be bombarded wit all dat information. Especially dat type of information, but do ye tink dat leaving now is a good idea?”
I could see it in his eyes; the pleading.
I placed another dish into the cupboard.
“Yes,” I said evenly. “I am leaving. I’m allowed to say when enough is enough. And this ... is more than enough.”
Silence stretched between us.
“There is nothing I can do to change ye mind?”
I closed the cabinet door.
“No, if you can’t respect my decision—or my space—then maybe it’s a good thing I’m learning that now. Please, just leave me alone.” I continued. “I don’t own this house. You can communicate with Charlotte from this point forward.”
“Joslyn, please—just listen to me.”
“No.”
The word came out sharp. Final.
“I’m done with everything,” I snapped. “I’m leaving. If you want someone to stay and listen to your bullshit, then you’re barking up the wrong tree. That bitch is upstairs. Maybe she can help you out.”
I left him standing in the kitchen and walked to my room. I slammed the door behind me, and locked it.
* * *
Charlotte had her bag sitting beside mine, near the door. She was curled up on the couch, waiting quietly.
I stepped into the kitchen and grabbed a bottle of water. As I twisted the cap, a car horn sounded outside.
The taxi.
We gathered our bags silently and carried them outside. The driver loaded everything into the trunk, and we climbed into the back seat.
As the car pulled onto the road, I turned and looked back, grateful to be leaving and thankful for the distance I was putting between Ronan and me.
When we arrived home, Charlotte and I still hadn’t really spoken other than when necessary. I had about hit my limit with Charlotte’s bullshit. Maybe if she hadn’t been so damn reckless, none of this would have happened.
Ronan wouldn’t have felt the need to bring Maddox into this.
Then he wouldn’t have thought he had to tell me all this fantastical nonsense that my brain kept rejecting.
My gut was telling me that I was the one who was wrong, but I wasn’t ready to process it all. I wanted to think without any outside interference.
I dropped my bag by the door and went straight to the study. Nothing in here seemed to be anything real that was conclusive evidence of anything. Just more confusion.
Hours had passed without me even realizing. My stomach growled at me. I looked at the clock on the wall; it was past nine at night. I picked up my phone and ordered food to be delivered.
Leaving the study, I walked to the kitchen and got some water from the fridge.
As I turned to head back to the study, my eyes fell on my bag.
I sat down on the floor and unzipped my suitcase, flipping it open.
I rummaged around until I found what I was looking for.
Pulling the envelope out, I stared at it for a few moments.
It was my first name, written in my grandfather’s handwriting.
I returned to the study to place my water and the envelope on the desk.
I took the pages out of the envelope and laid them out.
This is what was inside the safety deposit box: an envelope.
I hadn’t read it or even opened it before now.
I ran my fingers over the handwriting, picturing him writing my name—taking the utmost care to seal it shut.
The doorbell snapped me back to the here and now.
Greeting the delivery guy at the door, I swapped my money for the food. Shutting the door, I locked it and carried my food into the study. I set the bag down and unloaded the food and utensils. I took a few bites and a drink of water. Then I turned my attention to the papers sitting on the desk.
Joslyn,
I know that you’re probably mad about something at this moment. It might be due to my passing or something else that may have popped up since then. My sweet, fierce, beautiful girl, I tried to keep you innocent as long as I could, but that time has passed with me.
You were made to believe that my entire career has been nothing more than chasing cryptids across the world and teaching college students that monsters might exist. That is not entirely true.
Now, the information I am passing onto you comes with its own responsibility if you choose to continue my work.
Ronan will no doubt have mentioned something along these lines to you.
The truth is monsters do exist; Bigfoot.
Mothman, Jersey Devil, Dogman. The part I’ve been keeping from you is that along with the animalistic cryptids, there are also ones that can pose a real danger.
Vampires, werewolves, witches, and shapeshifters are all real too.
There is a group of Apex cryptids—ones that have human characteristics—and humans that work together.
Sounds crazy, I know, but it is very true.
I have been a part of this group since my early twenties, when my father introduced me into its folds.
My job was to keep in communication with the heads of each race and hold them accountable for any crimes that have been committed within their borders.
They have a duty to keep their members in line and not allow them to run rampant.
It is a very delicate agreement, and checks and balances must be kept.
If you do choose to enter the guild, then there will be a lot involved, and the training will be extensive.
My second has been Ronan for a few years now, and he knows me well.
He will be an asset to you. Then there is Maddox.
He is the acting head of the vampires while also being my teacher, mentor, and protector.
He is one of my closest friends, but you have never met him.
I had no logical way to explain to you why the man does not age.
I will tell you now because I promise you, he, above all, can be trusted and you are going to need to know who you can trust, especially since I am not there to guide you.
Maddox is a vampire, and telling you in this letter will hopefully give you time to process, while also taking the task of telling you off others’ shoulders.
The choice is yours and I do not want you to do this just because you think it is what I would want you to do. To tell you the truth, I would rather that you didn’t want it at all, but with full transparency; you were sort of made for this. It runs through your veins and is part of who you are.
I do implore you not to take this decision lightly. You need to be sure without a doubt because this is a lifetime commitment and will consume so much of your time. As for the fact that I am sure you’re doubting everything right now. You need proof, right?
I know you well enough to know that you require proof, especially since I’m not there, face to face, to tell you.
Well, my dear, I have that part covered.
Enclosed in this envelope is a very specific set of instructions that will lead to a treasure trove of evidence.
That evidence must never leave your possession; it is now your personal collection.
What is important for you to understand is that knowledge is power.
It is also something that allows you to protect all creatures from each other and from themselves.
The more you learn, the better equipped you will become.
Weigh everything carefully before you decide; be sure.
I love you and I want you to do what is best for you.
Love forever & always,
Grandpa (Papa)
I set the letter down and sat back in the chair.
This was ultimately what I was afraid of when I left Ireland.
I wanted to go to sleep, wake up, and have it all be a bad dream.
He was right. I was angry at everyone. Why did he pick me?
Why not Charlotte? Did I want this? Did I even believe this?
I picked up the fork and absent-mindedly pushed my food around.
I needed a break. A shower might help to get my mind clear.
I put my food away, taking it to the kitchen and sticking it in the fridge.
Then I proceeded to go upstairs to shower.
After I stepped out of the shower, I put on clean pajamas and set out to retrieve my bag from where I had left it open by the door.
After I shoved everything back in and closed it, I was able to carry it upstairs to my room.
Tossing it onto the bed, I once again opened it.
I put away my clean clothes and toiletries, then took all of my dirty clothes to the upstairs laundry room and started a load.
I was starting to feel the jet lag and the stress of the last two weeks.
I plugged my phone in next to the bed and turned off the lights.
Crawling into my bed felt amazing, cool and soft on my skin.
My fluffy pillows and down comforter felt like a cloud, and sleep found me quickly—deep and dreamless.