- EIGHT #2
Amy's eyes found mine and I saw... pleading there. Like she was begging me to say something. The only problem was, I had no idea what that was. "The man with those insane 3D tattoos?" I asked and watched as relief seemed to wash over Amy's face.
"Yes. He's a strange man. He's worked here for ages. He occasionally has these... violent episodes where he lashes out at other people or himself."
"That's why he was chained," I said, nodding a bit, swallowing the bile in my throat at knowing the truth of it.
"Precisely. It's not the best solution, but he refuses medication and the only other option would be an insane asylum. And those places are so... cruel."
"They are," I agreed because, in truth, they were.
"Is there anyone we can call for you?" Amy blurted out suddenly, making her mother send her a stern look.
"Oh," I said, giving her a small smile. It would be suspicious if I had been lost in the woods for days and no one in the human realm would be looking for me. "Actually, if I could call my mother, that would be great."
"Of course," Opal said a little tightly. "Amy, dear, show her to the phone."
With that, I was led to a phone where I dialed the number to my cell, praying no one in the family had any kind of super hearing and could hear my own voice on the answering machine before I left a quick message to my 'mother' apologizing for being out of touch and that I was okay, before hanging up.
When I turned, Amy was gone and Opal was staring at me. She looked for long enough for me to shuffle uncomfortably. "I'm sorry," Opal said, waving a hand. "You remind me of someone I knew a long time ago. You're her spitting image actually."
"I get that a lot," I said dismissively. "I just have one of those faces I guess," I lied through my teeth. No one had ever compared me to anyone before.
"Yes, that must be it."
I saw a woman step into the hall, gaze downcast, dressed in a stiff, uncomfortable-looking fabric.
She didn't say anything, simply stood with her head bowed and waited to be acknowledged.
Opal followed my line of vision. "Oh, wonderful," she said as Amy came into the hall again.
"Amy, dear, lead our guest to the tea room.
As I fell into step with Amy, I could hear Opal speaking to the servant, low and vicious.
"Find my husband. Right now, do you understand me? It's important."
I felt my stomach twist, knowing she knew or sensed something.
I blindly followed Amy and realized that they actually had a room for tea.
It was a slightly smaller room than the others with soft, feminine wallpaper and a hexagonal table in the center.
No white, I realized. Not one thing, not even the table and chairs, were white.
On the center of the table was a large ornate teapot and a tray full of pastries that made my stomach churn painfully. Food. God, I was so hungry.
"Have a seat," Amy said, waving a hand to a chair and moving across from it.
I looked down at my sundress that had once been clean and pretty with dismay.
I felt so filthy in their clean, gorgeous home.
Hell, even my moccasins were tattered, leaves sticking out of the sides.
Amy's gaze followed mine. "Yarrow?" she asked, sounding curious and perhaps concerned. "You're injured?"
"Oh, my feet were raw from all of that walking," I said, dismissing it.
"And you knew to use yarrow?" Opal's voice asked from the doorway, making me start.
Everything in me screamed to be careful. "I didn't even know what it was honestly." That was true enough. "My feet were just chafed so bad that I stuck leaves in my shoes to see if it would help."
"Why weren't you wearing... sneakers?" Her mouth tripped over the word as if it were foreign. "Don't hum..." she stopped herself, eyes going a little wide and I tried not to smile at her slip up. "Don't you wear shoes with rubber soles for walking?"
"I didn't plan on going so far," I said with a shrug.
Seeming satisfied, Opal nodded and took her seat to my right.
"It was actually lucky you picked yarrow," Amy said, trying to keep up conversation. "It has healing properties."
"Yeah," I said a little numbly. "I really was lucky." That I had Jasper. Oh, God. Jasper.
"Are you alright, dear? You're white as a sheet."
My head snapped up and I offered her a tired smile. "Yeah, it's just been a confusing couple of days."
"Of course," she said, reaching for the teapot and pouring four cups. "Here," she said, handing me mine before passing out the others, leaving one at the empty seat to my right. "The tea should help."
I wrapped my hands around the cup, wishing the warmth could seep into my soul which felt suddenly as cold as Opal's house. "This is a lovely room," I said instead, looking around.
"That's kind of you. This is Amy's little project," Opal said a bit disdainfully, like she hated the sight of it.
"It's very inviting," I said to Amy.
"Thank you," she said, firmly. I heard a clatter to my side and looked over to find Opal staring daggers at her daughter.
I shook my head, their weirdness becoming almost too much to handle. "Aren't you going to drink your tea, dear?" Opal asked, her voice expectant.
I felt all my muscles tighten. A memory was surfacing from when we had first entered the woods, Jasper's school- teacher and holier than thou voice scolding me about the strawberry.
It hit me with force, making my head snap up to find Opal watching my cup with a sneer.
He'd told me not to eat or drink anything that he himself had not given me.
He'd told me that fae could not be trusted.
I sneaked a look at Amy who looked sad, like I was on my way to my own execution.
"It's too hot," I supplied, my voice a little choked as I realized neither of them were drinking. The whole pot must have been spiked with something. But why would they want to poison me? Were they trying to kill me? Knock me unconscious? God, was it some sort of truth serum?
"Oh, of course, dear," Opal said, giving me her tight smile again. The front door slammed suddenly, making me start. "That must be my husband finally," Opal declared.
The footsteps in the hall were hard and purposeful.
He walked into the room a few seconds later and I felt my stomach clench.
It was like seeing a slightly older version of Jasper.
Except that maybe life had been hard on him and he had become cold and hard, all the goodness pried from his soul.
His head was ducked down, gaze focused on scrubbing a rag against his hands.
My gaze followed his and it was good I was seated because if I wasn't, I would have fallen over.
Blood. There was dried blood all over his hands.
It didn't take much to realize it was either Doyle's or Jasper's. One of them was getting what was coming to them.
Declan's gaze shot up as he walked, eyes finding me and stopping short, like he hadn't been expecting my presence.
"Darling, we have a... lost girl with us today," she said, voiced steeped in a meaning I wasn't privy to.
"You called me here for this?" he asked, tone angry, exasperated, like he was sick of her.
"Darling, this is Celestine," she said firmly. "Celestine, this is my husband, Declan."
My stomach clenched hard as I raised my gaze to him. Declan's face went from disinterest to disbelief in the passing of a second. His eyes widened and he actually went back a step.
"Why don't you join us for tea, Declan?" Opal asked, pointedly.
"Yes, of course," he recovered as he moved to sit. "Celestine, it is nice to meet you. You are, of course, very welcome here."
"Than..." I started then clamped my mouth closed so hard that my teeth hurt.
I was going to thank him. That was another thing Jasper had told me, to never thank a fae.
If you thanked them, you owed them. And it suddenly hit me that that was why Opal had given Amy such a hard look before.
Amy had thanked me. She owed me now. My gaze cut to Amy who was giving me the tiniest of knowing smiles.
"That is most kind of you," I covered, silently thanking Jasper in my head.
Declan's head tilted to the side as if I had whispered Jasper's name aloud. His eyes were knowing when I found them and I remembered that Jasper told me his sensing thoughts and feelings thing was hereditary. He'd gotten it from his father.
Shit.
I was found out after all.
Wonderful.
"You have... good manners," Declan said, his voice dry, like maybe he found my dilemma amusing.
"I had a good teacher," I snapped back, almost glad for the spark of honesty. Inwardly, I was screaming Jasper's name over and over, daring him to call me on it. I conjured an image of Jasper and projected it to his father.
I knew I had succeeded when Declan threw his head back and let out a big, booming laugh. "Yes," he said, giving me a smile that I swore was genuine, as if he enjoyed my defiance. "Well, he won't be teaching you anything else."
"Maybe not," I said, my jaw so tight it hurt. I hadn't realized how angry I had become until I felt the heat flood my entire body. "But then again, maybe he will."
"Trust me," Declan said, sneering.
"Whatever could you have possibly done in your evil little life to make you think you are trustworthy?" I shot back. I knew it was reckless. I knew it was asking for it. But I couldn't help it. I was already so screwed that I couldn't imagine it could get any worse.
"What on Earth are you talking about?" Opal broke in, her tone making it obvious how much she disliked being out of the loop.
"We, my dear," Declan started, his voice completely devoid of emotion as he addressed her, "are discussing our son."
"Jasper?" Opal asked, confused.
"Yes, Jasper," I barked. "Your son. The one you treated so badly that he had to take your daughter and run away with her. The son that your husband has been torturing down in his dungeon."
"Well then," Opal said, smirking. "I guess we can suspend all the pretenses then."