TEDDY
I've never wanted to run from the water dorms as much as I do right now. My mother’s beady eyes track my every move as I draw closer, while my heart threatens to split in two with the need to turn and check on Ivy.
But offering my mother something to control, to wield over me with the precision of a surgical blade, won't bode well for anyone.
I may not like my mother, but I know every piece of her, every part, the bad and the… evil.
A storm brews inside of me, carnage invoked by despair as my jaw aches and my teeth grind together.
My hands clench at my sides as I trudge across the grass. The moon touches everywhere but her, like it knows bathing her in any light would burn those nearby, like even the darkest parts of the world understand that some elements cannot survive out in the open.
Being in her vicinity is damaging enough.
If anyone knows that, it's me. She has the ability to make me throw a pity party for myself, turning me into a young child again instead of the man I know I am.
She brings out old trauma and pain, pressing her fingertip against my open wounds while she smirks at the victory that comes with the consequences.
I shake my head as a group of students run by, laughter thick in the air, and I seize the opportunity.
Sucking in a sharp breath, I let my gaze follow them in hopes of catching a glimpse of Ivy, but everybody moves too quickly and I come up short.
My pulse pounds in my ears as tension ripples through me.
Disappointed, I set my sights on my mother, speeding up to get this over and done with fast, despite knowing how much I'm going to hurt in the aftermath.
Stuffing my hands in my pockets, I come to a stop in front of her, rocking back on my heels like I don't care that she’s here.
I do.
I care with every fiber of my being, knowing that it’s my mother who continues to walk this earth, while my hero, my father, ceases to exist.
“Theodore.”
I hate my name on her tongue.
“Cressida.”
Her lips pinch, curling around an invisible cigarette, one of her many addictions on display. I'm sure there's one in her pocket, itching to be lit.
Her black leather pants are stuffed into worn, brown boots, a stark contrast to the soft cashmere button-up that covers her frame. Demure on top, dangerous on the bottom.
“You shouldn't keep me waiting,” she chastises, her eyes narrowing as she manages to flick her nose up an extra inch, glaring down at me with that same hatred I'm so familiar with.
“I wasn't aware I was,” I reply, tilting my head to the side, but the second I move my neck, it straightens, and my back stiffens as a tightness forms around my throat.
My heart thunders in my chest as my mother's magic takes hold, the air bending to her will.
To the world, she looks small, dainty almost. All delicate, like the perfect picture of a shattered widow, but I see what lies behind those eyes.
Frustration wars inside me; the irritation of her mere presence, combined with the fact that she so quickly resorts to forcing her control over me, makes it impossible for me to contain myself.
I snap back, my throat bobbing against the invisible grip as I attempt to speak. “You will release—”
My words trail off as her magic contorts at her order. She doesn't tighten her magical hold around my throat. Instead, she twists the air between us, mottling my words to nothing but a breeze, so they can't take root against her.
Amusement flickers in her dark eyes as she flexes her hand at her side, and the grip around my throat replicates the motion.
Bitch.
Her eyes are void, a familiar look on her, but also a telling sign that she’s a little more hectic and unpredictable.
She’s at her worst.
I remember once, when her eyes were full of love, hope, and joy. I haven't seen those eyes since my father passed away, and every moment that has ticked by since, they've become more void, more pained, more angered, and I'm the cause of it.
“It's disappointing when I have to visit again because you didn't do what I told you to the first time,” she states, and despite her grip around my throat, I have enough room to reply.
“I never said I would.”
Her palm connects with my cheek, but my face doesn't move with her magic still in place.
Heat floods at her touch as my knuckles curl at my sides.
Instead of relishing in the present pain, my mind takes a trip down memory lane, like always.
Memories of me as a child, with the same burning sensation, flood my veins as my cheek heats, playing like a kaleidoscope in my mind, each one merging together.
She may have smiled when my father was still here, but she was still just as handsy then… just when he wasn’t looking.
I'm surprised that the left side of my face isn't permanently numb by now.
I sink my teeth into my tongue, the taste of copper more prominent as I push myself to recall my father's smile.
That slight lilt of a smile to the right side appears in my mind, clearing my thoughts and bringing me back to the present, only to falter at the same sight of my mother.
I can't help but feel a slight twinge of sadness as I acknowledge the fact seeing her doesn’t lift my spirits.
Not even the memory of the way her eyes would glitter with happiness that felt like the elitist kind.
No.
It's my father's crooked smile that serves as an anchor, while my mother is an energy-sucking vampire who always finds a way to sink her teeth into me.
Her intentions are always clear: take until there is nothing left.
She folds her arms over her chest as she narrows her eyes at me. “Your father would be very disappointed in the way you've been treating me lately,” she declares, as if sensing him in my thoughts, and I scoff, my throat vibrating against the air tightening around my neck.
I attempt to brush her off, but a mere mention of my father in a negative light cuts deep into my soul.
“What do you want, Cressida?” I ask, silently pleading for her to be gone.
“I want you to use that damn magic of yours and help me, as I’ve already asked,” she snaps.
My nostrils flare as I shake my head. “I’ve already said no.”
I once heard that ‘no’ is a complete sentence, but apparently that doesn’t apply to her.
What she's asking for is insane. We both know it, yet her eyes dance menacingly, like she's not done trying to get her way.
“If you don't, then maybe I'll pay the Angel of Heaven's Ridge a visit,” she muses, tapping her fingertip against her bottom lip, and my eyes narrow as anger zaps through me, but nothing consumes me more than panic, all while I desperately try to remain neutral, but she has a way of exposing me whether I like it or not.
If I give in, she'll know Ivy's importance to me, which puts a value on her head.
If I don't, she'll follow through on her threat just to test our connection.
If there is one thing I know to be true about her, it's that my mother is the queen of manipulation and ultimatums, and she always follows through on a threat.
My jaw grinds.
“Am I supposed to care?” I grunt, trying my luck, and she laughs, the sound haunting, as if she hoped that's what I would say.
“I’m sure we'll find out,” she promises, leaning in to press her crimson-stained lips against my cheek, right in the center of the burning spot that she marked me with.
My muscles clench with anger, but before I can breathe a single word, she releases me and disappears from sight.
I rub at my neck, the pain absent enough to make me question if it was ever there to begin with, while sighing with disappointment.
Cressida Lupis, my mother, and the most selfish person I’ve ever had the unfortunate experience of.
I sag back against the wall, wiping my hand down my face as I heave in a few deep breaths, when a cry rings out in the distance; a blood-curdling scream that makes me wince. I have no idea who the sound came from, but I know the harm has come from my mother and her pent up anger.
I shake my head and pinch my nose, focusing on my own issues.
Ivy.
Fuck.
I want to check on her, but first, I have to follow protocol and check the water’s edge.
Dragging a hand through my hair, I straighten, willing my chest to ease as I take off across campus once more.
It's impossible to avoid the Fire Protectors’ building this time, and I gape at it longingly as I hurry away.
Despite the strong desire to turn back and forget my obligations, I push on.
My mind is twisted in thoughts wrapped around my mother, her threats, and her demands until I reach the clifftop, spotting a few of the Water Protectors up ahead.
As I draw closer, I’m knocked back mid-air, landing on my back with a thud, only to gape up at the Water Protector leader, who suddenly appears, his magic vanishing to reveal his frame above me.
My nostrils flare with even more tension as I push him away and pounce to my feet, staring off with him, amped up and ready to brawl, while silently hating his ability to be invisible. I could have used that skill earlier when my mother was nearby.
“You're no use if you're showing up when we're fucking done,” Rogan grunts, and despite the tension that ripples through me, I lift my hands in surrender.
It’s a tight rope, a real fucking thin one that I’m balancing on, but I’m aware enough to know that my anger isn’t at him, but my mother and myself.
Mostly myself.
“My bad, man,” I grunt, hoping to play it off without getting too into it, especially when I’ve got other matters to handle.
I feel like I wouldn't have been much longer if I had walked Ivy back, without my mother’s interjection, but that's beside the point.
The way his lip curls tells me there’s something else going unsaid here, but I don't have time to figure that out either.
“You're damn right it's your bad. We're a fucking team. None of this is—”
“Is protocol done?” I interrupt, and his eyes narrow while I note the droplets of water dripping from the hem of his t-shirt.