Chapter 9 Komal #2
“I’d never known such happiness as our years together,” Augustin sighs, his hands on my back still drawing slow circles.
“They showed me a world I never dared to imagine. We passed decades in peace and prosperity. My parents moved us from London after the spiritualism movement died out and occult societies fell out of fashion. For a time, we lived in a rambling old house in Scotland, surrounded by wild places where my mother’s magic was stronger.
I was the happiest I’ve ever been. Then my father was offered a seat on the Conclave, and we decided to settle in Dusk Court.
It was there, one hundred years after I’d been given the Kiss, that my mother started to think about a daughter – a sister for me.
I’d made friends with Isabelle, a Thrall of the court, and they wanted to make her one of us.
But during the ceremony, something went wrong, and all three of them died. ”
His voice cracks. A hard lump forms in my throat as I think about Papa’s illness, and how I’d fall to pieces if I lost my family, and Augustin has lost his twice over—
Wait, how am I empathising with Augustin Durant?
It’s a problem, because the empathy dredges up memories of my own, memories of being alone in the dark, of wishing someone kind would reach in and pluck me out, but no one did.
“Durant.” I sink to the floor. “Your sob story isn’t working. I need to get out of this cupboard.”
The darkness bends around him, this cold, immovable monster who is somehow less scary than the gloom. I focus on his cool fingers on my shoulder, the only thing tethering me to sanity.
My heart hammers so loud against my ears that I have to strain to hear him speak. “I have an idea, but I need to let go of you. Is that okay?”
My hands won’t stop trembling. I nod, and then remember we’re in the dark, but he can see me, can’t he? He can see me falling to pieces. I’d be mortified if I weren’t too busy trying to keep my heart inside my ribs.
Augustin spins in a circle. A moment later, there’s a crack, and the whole door flies off. It crashes into the desk, where it splinters into several pieces.
Light.
Safety.
I collapse outward, onto the floor of his office and the shattered pieces of door. I place my head between my knees and breathe deep and long, the way my therapist taught me, until the drum solo finishes, until the needles stop stabbing, until the wet heat leaves my lungs.
You’re okay. You’re okay. You’re not dying. Nothing in the dark can hurt you.
Slowly, I raise my head, only to come nose-to-nose with Augustin Durant, his brow furrowed with concern and the tip of a fang biting into his lip in a way that makes me want to reach out and lick it.
What? No, I don’t. Why did I think that?
“Do you need anything?” he asks, his voice so low and so kind and tinged with something that makes my chest ache.
I need… a lobotomy?
“I… I…” I can’t bear to look at him any longer. I’m too fragile and afraid to be this confused. I scramble to my feet. How is he so good at this?
“Ms Ahuja, I think you should seek medical attention—”
Oh, I definitely should. But I’ve already fled outside, my spine still tingling from Augustin’s touch.
I don’t stop running until I’ve snuck unseen around the side of my parents’ place and reached the front door of my house.
Calling it a “house” is a stretch. It’s the cutest little Scandi-style cabin parked in my parents’ back garden, with vertical larch on the outside and white-framed windows.
It’s on wheels, so I can theoretically drive it anywhere, which crosses my mind almost every evening after another round of the Ahuja family circus.
My parents bought the tiny home on wheels for Preeti after she left her cheating husband.
The twins were babies when she moved in, but she moved out the week she finished medical school, claiming our parents were driving her crazy.
Now it’s mine for as long as I want it. That’s both comforting and terrifying.
I love knowing that if I fall, my family will help me pick up the pieces. That’s what family is for.
But I’m terrified of how long it’s taking me to pick up the pieces.
I’m not sure I remember what all the pieces are anymore.
I flick on every switch as I move through the living room/kitchen, breathing a sigh of relief as the whole house glows with light. I kick off my shoes and pull out my phone. The screen glows from all the messages I’ve missed.
I debate telling my friends about the stationery cupboard, but as I scroll through our group chat, where Winnie is complaining about Alaric’s swords and Beth is bitching about her studio rebuild, I can’t find the words.
I love the Nevermore Coven. Really, I do. I’ve been friends with Celeste, Isis, Dora and Maisie since high school. We’ve been through so much together. I know I can trust them with my life.
But…
But I can’t tell them that I had a panic attack in a cupboard, and my mortal enemy comforted me…
They all have their lives together. They’re getting married. They’re working careers they love. They’re solving crimes and building vampire property developments and expanding their businesses. They’re not living in a tiny house in their parents’ back garden.
I’m supposed to be Madam MacGyver. I fix things. I don’t lose my shit in the dark.
I can’t say out loud why I’m still in Argleton – not because of Papa, but because I’ve screwed up my life so bad that I don’t know how to fix it.
I can’t tell them that winning the mayoral race is the only thing I can do to make things right, to make my father proud of me and show myself that I can still fix things.
So instead, I put down my phone, pour myself a glass of red wine, microwave some takeaway and turn on Love Island.
My hands tremble a little as I lift the spoon to my mouth, but there’s nothing like biryani to ease the existential crisis of being stuck in the dark with only Augustin Durant to save me.
I know I’ll leave the lights and TV on all night so the darkness doesn’t creep in on me.
I know that I won’t sleep, but I’ll get hours of work done on the village app and my debate speech.
I know that if I stop and consider the stationery cupboard for one single second, I’ll have to remember the calming circles Augustin drew on my back as he spilled his secrets in the dark.
I’ll have to confront the moment I looked up at his concerned face and pouty lips and thought I’d like to kiss them…
But I’m not going to confront it. Because it’s absurd. It was a moment of anxiety-induced temporary insanity. I did not have a moment with my sworn enemy, the man who’s made my life a misery and who doesn’t believe I have what it takes to be mayor.
Right?