Chapter 8 - Hyacinth
For a moment, I think that Shane is going to argue further, but he just shakes his head and gets into the car. I look up at the manor once more before doing the same.
I didn’t know if I believed any of this before now, but the vibes rolling off the manor can’t be denied. Something happened here, and the echo is rippling through time.
“Where do you live?” Shane asks as he pulls out of the driveway towards the dirt track. I give him the address, and he just nods and grunts, leaving me wondering if he even knows where it is.
For just a moment, when we were out in the gardens, I felt something between us. A connection, a deep understanding. Now I’m wondering if I imagined the whole thing.
Taking a breath, I look over at Shane, ready to attempt a conversation, but his eyes stay fixed on the road ahead. The words die on my lips. I look down into my lap instead, idly twisting my fingers together.
What am I going to do? Does he expect us to just live like this? Always awkward, with a fathomless silence the only thing between us?
The thought triggers my old anxiety, bringing back the memories. I shake my head a little, shoving away the sadness so I don’t cry, and look out the window instead.
“Are you alright?” Shane asks.
Like you care.
“Sure, I’m fine,” I mutter.
I can feel his eyes on me, but I don’t turn to look at him, and as we reach the turn-off, Shane puts his focus back on the road.
It doesn’t take long to get to Silver Valley, and I only have to correct Shane’s driving once on the way to my place. When we pull up out front, I feel a familiar sense of joy and comfort, but it vanishes quickly when I see Shane giving me a hard look.
“Don’t hang around too long,” he says. “I’ve got places to be.”
“Sure, fine, whatever,” I mutter as I get out of the car.
Shane follows me across the yard to the front door. Most of my stuff got left behind at the parking lot, but I keep a spare key in a hanging plant for my neighbor to water my plants if I’m away. I retrieve it and open the door, trying to ignore Shane.
Again, the familiar comfort wraps around me, and I can’t help but smile. I remember the day I found this little cottage, the last place the agent showed me.
“It’s old and cramped,” she said. “Built by a madman or something. Impossible to rent. I’m sure you won’t want it.”
I remember her words as I turn in a little circle, looking at the strange, low ceilings and sharp stone edges of the doors. It was built by hand out of necessity, not design, and that’s exactly why I fell in love with it.
As I step inside my home, part of me instinctively sets out to do my usual routine—going to the kitchen to make a cup of tea and enjoy it out in the garden. I’m just about to walk to the kitchen when I hear Shane behind me.
“Don’t just stand there,” he says. “Get your gear. I can send someone over for the furniture, if you want it.”
Tension streaks through my body, a hint of resentment that almost makes me snap at him.
I built a safe little world here, a place that belongs to me alone. For the first time in my life, I was the one in control. Now you’ve stolen that from me.
“Okay,” I reply, trying to sound neutral. I walk quickly down the hall to my room, trying to avoid further interaction.
Once I get there, I can barely think straight. When I haul my suitcase out from under the bed, I almost hurl it across the room. I have to cover my face with my hands and take a deep breath.
A fantasy of running away overtakes my mind, so clear I can almost feel the air stinging my face as I run through the field beyond the house. Excitement flickers through me, but it’s quickly killed by a heavy wave of resignation.
When I moved here, I said I wouldn’t run anymore. I know I certainly didn’t count on getting kidnapped and forcibly married… but running just feels wrong.
I start throwing clothes into the suitcase, trying to push my emotions away. The harder I try to fight them, the worse they get, and when tears begin to trickle down my cheeks, I slump down and cover my face, letting the tears come.
I can never come back here. Everything I’ve built, I have to leave behind.
This really hurts.
“Hyacinth?” Shane asks. “Are you okay?”
No.
“I’m fine,” I reply, trying not to snap.
“I can hear you crying. What’s wrong?”
His tone is just a little sharp, as if he’s frustrated with me. I keep my back turned to him, my resentment of him and the entire situation growing.
“Packing up my stuff is a bit hard. That’s all.”
“Why?”
I take a deep breath and roll my eyes up to the ceiling, glad that he’s behind me and can’t see my face.
Why is he torturing me like this? Surely he understands how hard this is for me.
“Just go away and let me pack,” I bark.
“Can I help?”
“No. Just go.”
“Are you sure?”
“Yes!” I yell, finally turning around. “Why are you getting on my case like this? Getting kidnapped and dragged away from my life isn’t my idea of a good time, you know?”
Shane’s big blue eyes widen in surprise. “Okay,” he mutters. “I was just trying to help.”
“I don’t need it,” I snap, turning away again.
His footsteps slowly disappear down the hall, and I wipe tears off my cheeks as I finish packing my bag.
Was he really trying to help? Sure as hell didn’t feel like it.
Once my suitcase is full, I zip it up, looking around my room and letting my gaze linger. It’s the first time in my life I’ve had a space that was completely my own, and now I have to leave it behind.
I have to live in someone else’s house now, with their rules.
A dark wave of despair rises in me, and I struggle against it. Horrible memories ride on it, like rumbling clouds about to unleash a brutally violent storm.
No, no. I won’t think about that.
I get up quickly and drag my suitcase into the hall. Shane looks up, puts his phone in his pocket, and then comes over to me.
“I’ll take that for you,” he says.
“Thanks,” I say automatically. I follow him out the front door, locking it behind me.
“I can have someone pick up the rest of your stuff,” Shane says as we get into the car.
“Okay,” I mumble, looking back towards the house.
You don’t get it, do you? It’s the house I’m going to miss. For the first time in my life, I had a space that belonged solely to me, and now I have to let it go.
Shane pulls out from the curb, and I watch my beloved house disappear behind us as we drive off.
Maybe if I were going somewhere new and exciting, I would be okay with this. But I don’t know what I’m walking into, and I’m not doing it by my own choice.
Shane is quiet on the way home, and I can hear his phone buzzing in his pocket. I remember that terrible things must be happening in his pack. He might not mean to be insensitive to me.
People are dying—I have to remember that. The problem is, to me, it’s an abstract idea. I’m not really a part of this pack, and I don’t know these people.
The idea makes me wonder if I should go with Shane to the infirmary next time he goes, but I reject that thought immediately.
I’m definitely not ready to walk into a room full of sick and dying people. I have no idea how that’s going to affect me.
When we get back to Shane’s, he carries my bag into the house and takes it to my room. I look at the cramped little camp bed with disappointment.
I want to ask if there’s anywhere else I can sleep, but I’m afraid he’s going to say, “In my bed with me,” and I’m not fucking doing that.
Sighing, I wrap my arms around myself and follow Shane back to the kitchen.
“Do you want something to eat?” he asks.
“Sure,” I reply, sitting down at the table.
He comes over with several small containers.
“What’s this?” I ask.
“Meal prep. It’s just how I usually do things. These are all chicken or beef salad, so just choose what you prefer.”
“Okay,” I reply, choosing a box of chicken salad.
“I’m not a great cook,” Shane says as he sits down. “But it’s decent. I just can’t deal with figuring out dinner every night, so I pre-make everything.”
“Makes sense,” I answer, wondering if this could be an insight into his character.
If he’s the kind of person who plans things out, does that mean kidnapping me was really extraordinary behavior for him?
After sitting in silence for a few moments, I decide to address my worst fear.
If this is going to work at all, he has to respect my wishes.
“Shane, I’m going to need to go back to the bakery soon.”
“For your phone and car?” he asks. “Sure. I can take you tonight.”
“No—well, yes—but the main reason is that I have to keep the shop running. I can’t just take days off.”
Shane raises his head slowly, giving me a stern look. “No.”
The word is so simple and short that at first, I didn’t understand it. “What?” I ask.
“No. You aren’t going back to work—what are you thinking? You’ll be leaving your bakery behind just like everything else.”
“No fucking way,” I snap, my voice coming out high. “You can’t be serious.”
“I am.”
“What the fuck am I supposed to do all day? Do your cooking and cleaning?”
“Couldn’t hurt,” he replies with a touch of a smile.
“Don’t!” I say sharply. “Don’t joke about this. That bakery is my whole life, and I’m not giving it up. What kind of jerk are you, to deny me this? It belongs to me, and you can’t take it away from me.”
Shane goes to say something, then pauses. I can almost see his thoughts racing behind his bright blue eyes.
“You really won’t run away?” he asks.
I shake my head. “I love my little shop. I wouldn’t abandon it.” As the words leave my lips, I realize how true they are.
“We just need to stay close to each other,” he says as if he’s trying to be reasonable. “We need this spell to work… or we need to find out for sure if it isn’t going to work. I don’t want to interrupt the process at all.”
“The way you interrupted my life?”
He sighs. “I’ve tried to apologize. I don’t know how many times I can explain. You saw the elders, spoke to the girls—you even felt the vibes in the manor.”
“Yes,” I reply. “But even if I am the right one, kidnapping me was not the way to go about it.”
“I don’t know what came over me,” he says in exasperation. “I was in a bad spot, desperate to do something. I heard the others talking and acted on instinct. I felt like I had no choice.”
“No choice but to take my rights away?” I ask softly as tears begin to trickle down my cheeks.
Shane looks up at me, his striking blue eyes almost glowing with emotion.
The tangled dark web of my past rises in me again, threatening to overwhelm me.
Shane opens his mouth to speak, and I know I can’t trust myself to listen or respond rationally, so I get up quickly and push back from the table.
The chair crashes to the floor, but I pay no attention to it, turning and running from the room before Shane can say another word.