Embers: An Inferno Conclusion, page 1
Embers
An Inferno Conclusion
Yolanda Olson
Contents
Dear Readers
Playlist
To My Baby
Prologue
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Epilogue
Original Series by Yolanda Olson
About the Author
Dear Readers
Dear Readers,
Most of you have been with me since the inception of Inferno. A lot of you struggled with that story, but I appreciate you so much for putting on a brave face and continuing on with the Greene Family.
Most of you have gone through the Hell of Inferno World in anticipation for the end. Myself and my Inferno World authors thank you.
I know that a lot of you have mixed feelings about this finally being over, and I know you may be a little afraid of what Embers will bring, but I’ll promise you something right now.
This series concludes here the way it should. I hope it was worth the wait. I hope I make you all proud.
XoXo,
Yolanda
Playlist
Butcher Babies- Gravemaker
To My Baby
My sweetest love,
I knew it wouldn't last, but I still dared to hope. You see, when he took me as his new wife he made a promise that no matter what happened between us, everything would be okay. Has he made the same promise to you? I'm sure he has.
I bet you're a girl. Did he make you bear his children? God, I hope he didn't; I pray that you were spared from having to become just like me. But if he did, watch them; keep them close to you because the moment you think it's safe—the very second everything seems to be normal, he'll snatch them away from you just like he did you to me. He'll make you believe that he loves them and that he'll never do to them what he's done to you, but he's a liar. Please don't fall for the words that slip from his silver tongue.
I love you. I love you so much. Remember that when things seem dark and whatever happens, I want you to know that I've never been more proud of anything in my life than the moment I felt you kick inside of me. That's when I knew that I had finally gotten something right. Even though I never got the chance to hold you, please remember me.
Love always,
Mom
Mom died almost a year to the day that Dad put her back into the well. He stopped going to check on her when he realized that maybe I wasn't too young to take care of his needs after all. A little bit of training and easing me into the things he liked, and just like that, Jocelyn became a distant memory.
I had my first child when I was twelve, the second at thirteen, and the third one at fifteen. I’ve managed to keep them away from their father and they seem to be happy for the most part—and to be honest, so does he.
Time has taken a toll on the old man and I can tell he won’t last for much longer. Oh, but he’s stubborn; too stubborn and I know that he won’t leave until he’s good and ready.
Everything has to be on Dad’s terms because it’s the only way he knows how to function. He doesn’t seem to be bothered by the sands of time spilling over his head into the almost full end of the hourglass, if anything, he seems to be looking forward to it.
So am I.
Even though it will hurt me when he takes his last breath, I think it’ll hurt me even more if he continues to watch our children with the same intent that he watched me, and my mother before me, and her brothers along with her.
Dad lost his way a long time ago. I don’t know what happened to him to make him the monster that he became, but my heart hurts for the man he could have become. A loving husband, a doting father, an amazing grandfather—but his mind is rotten with ill intent and the need to taste each drop of dew from his family tree, and for that reason alone, if he doesn’t succumb to whatever illness is plaguing him this time, I’ll have to look the man that I love most of all in the eye, and send him on his way.
For my children.
For my mother.
For her brothers.
For the end.
"Go outside and play,” I say softly to Cleo giving her a gentle shove toward the door. Her brother and sister are already outside picking wildflowers like I used to be so fond of doing when I was young. She has a habit of wandering around the house looking for Dad, but I always manage to get to her before she finds him.
He’s been good with them so far, and when he tucks them in at night, I’m standing in the doorway watching. It pisses him off, but not much doesn’t these days.
Dad has been sick more often than not lately, and we both know his end is near. It’s just a matter of when now.
Every time I offer to take him to see a doctor, or even to an emergency room, he declines and tells me that he’ll be alright.
“Don’t worry about me, baby. Daddy will be just fine as long as you’re by his side,” he always says.
Lately, he’s had more good days than bad and I would be lying if I didn’t say it brought me some comfort that he’s still here. Even with all that he’s put me through, I don’t know a life outside these walls and I’ll be completely lost when Dad dies, so I do my best to nurse him back to health each time he gets closer to death’s door.
“Darbs!”
His gruff voice echoes throughout the house and I quickly close the door, locking it so that the children can’t come back in before I call for them.
I move as quickly as I can because he doesn’t like to be kept waiting. My heart races with the impending thoughts of what he’ll require of me. Will it be a simple conversation? To just have me sit with him for a while? Or will he want something more—something I don’t want to give.
I run up the stairs and jog down the hall to his bedroom, pushing the door open and walking in slowly.
“Hey,” I greet him softly.
“Come here,” he says, holding a hand toward me. He’s leaning against the wall, watching the children play outside. Time has been kind to his appearance—his hair is still mostly black as is his beard, though there is more gray with each passing day. He keeps his body as strong as it will allow him, and that damn grin hasn’t faded away like most of his spirit has.
He’s still the same bastard that I remember when I was young, and he’ll never show any signs of slowing down. No matter how much his body wants to give out on him.
I walk over to him and take his hand, allowing him to pull him closer to where he’s standing. He rubs the top of my hand with this thumb before he lets it go and sucks his teeth.
“How long are you leaving them outside for?” he asks, narrowing his eyes against the sudden burst of sunlight that breaks through the sparse clouds in the crystal blue sky.
“I don’t know. Cleo just went out and Richter and Skylar haven’t been out very long.”
He grunts and crosses his arms over his chest. He continues to watch them in silence until Cleo wanders too close to the well.
Dad immediately lifts the window halfway, leans out, and yells at her.
“I told you not to go near that fucking thing! Go back to your brother and sister or come back inside,” he barks at her.
Cleo looks up at him before she covers her face with her small hands as she runs over to her siblings and I can tell she’s crying.
“You shouldn’t be so hard on her—she’s just curious,” I say to him softly.
“Yeah well I never got around to scraping the bitch out of there and she doesn’t need to see that,” he grumbles, lowering the window again. He places his hands on the sill and sighs heavily. “Look, I’m sorry. I don’t get why I’m such a bastard these days. I guess it’s because I’m getting so damn tired lately and watching those kids is the only thing I can do to keep me sane.”
I nod, even though he can’t see me, and turn to walk out of his room.
“Where are you going?” he asks.
I glance over my shoulder and see him now sitting on as much of the sill as he can, arms crossed over his chest again, eyeing me dangerously.
“I was going to get some lunch together for the kids,” I reply cautiously.
That grin—the damning one, the one that tells me that he wants the one thing I don’t want to provide, starts to slip across his ruggedly handsome face.
“Want some company?”
I don’t.
I don’t want his company, but I don’t want to leave him alone either. If I do, who knows what will happen to him. He fell the last time he was alone, and it was a struggle to get him back up the stairs to his room, so I had to leave him in the den and tell the kids to stay away from the door. They get so angry with me when I tell them to stay away from their father, but they don’t understand, and I’ll never tell them.
They don’t need to know that their father is no father at all, rather a monster that walks in the daylight among them, hunting their innocence.
“Of course, Daddy,” I finally say, forcing a small smile onto my face. “I always want your company.”
Dad yawns when we enter the kitchen, then gives me a l
“Is there anything in particular you’re hungry for?” I ask, immediately regretting my choice of words when they leave my lips.
“Well, I won’t be having my usual, but thanks for asking,” he responds with a dry laugh.
I pull the pitcher of cold water out of the refrigerator and retrieve a glass from the cupboard above the sink. I walk over to the island, set the glass down and fill it with water, sliding it over to him. He sounds parched and I don’t like it—it scares me in a weird way. I’m not ready for him to go just yet and I won’t have any part of it until I’m good and ready.
I guess I’m like him in that way. Neither of us like things we have no say over, but he put me in my place a long time ago, and I tend to stay there when it’s appropriate, only stepping out really when it comes to the children.
He doesn’t seem to mind it—tells me that it makes me a good mother; better than Jocelyn ever was, and that he appreciates me for it.
I don’t take it as a compliment by any means, because if life had gone the way it should have, I wouldn’t be here, and neither would my children. I sometimes think about that on quite nights that Dad’s asleep in bed next to me and the moonlight shines on our glistening bodies, exposing our sins to the darkness.
I think about how much better the world may have been for my mother and her brothers had they had a normal life instead of what they were subjected to.
Unfortunately, the wistful thoughts of a young woman, long since dead when her mother was abandoned into a hole in the ground, won’t help anyone. I have to be strong for my children and for my father, equally.
“Thanks, Darbs,” he says with a nod as soon as he’s finished his glass of cool water. “I appreciate the way you look out for me.”
“You’re welcome, Daddy,” I reply with a small smile. Even the tiniest of praise is enough to get me through the days and nights when I feel like giving up.
“Maybe just make some simple sandwiches, huh? Cut the crust off the bread so we won’t have to listen to them bitch about having to pull it off while you’re at it,” he says, getting to his feet and heading to the small window in the kitchen.
I don’t understand how he can be so kind in one moment, and so hate-filled in the next, but I’ve become accustomed to his mood swings and do my best to brush them off.
Simple to Dad could be anything, but I decide on peanut butter and jelly because I know the kids love those sandwiches. If he’s not happy with my choice, I’ll make something else for him—right now my concern is getting some food into their stomach until dinnertime.
“That kid doesn’t fucking know how to listen,” he suddenly barks, slapping the windowpane. I jump and turn to face him slightly in time to watch him open the window and lean his body out. “Cleo! Get the fuck away from that well! Don’t make me come out and collect you!”
“Stop yelling at her,” I snap at him. “It’s not her fault. She’s a child—she doesn’t know any better.”
Dad’s body goes stiff before he leans back into the kitchen, walks over to me, and slaps me hard across the face. Tears sting my eyes, but I won’t let them fall because that’s what he wants. His cruelty has grown with his age and when he’s not making me sleep in his bed with him, he’s usually being malicious in other ways. There’s only a small sliver of time that he’s ever gentle anymore, and those are the times I cherish the most.
Gripping my face firmly in his hands, a sinister smile crossing his lips, he turns his head to the side and leans his ear toward me.
“One more time. I didn’t quite hear you,” he dares.
I take as deep a breath as I can before I’m able to form words again.
“Please don’t be so mean to her. She loves you and you’re always yelling at her. I don’t understand what you expect from someone as confused as she is,” I reply in a gentler tone.
“What I expect?” he begins, turning to face me again and tightening his grip on my cheeks. “What I expect is to have obedient fucking children and if she can’t understand the simplest of shit, then maybe I’ll have to teach her a different way.”
“No!”
My reply is immediate, defiant, and much louder than I would have liked, but he lets go of my face and smirks.
“Then you better teach her how things go around here, Darbs, or I will.”
I begin to wring my hands, trying to think of a way to keep Cleo safe from his unsavory desire when it dawns on me.
“May I sleep in the living room tonight, Daddy? I’ll keep Cleo out here with me and I’ll set some rules for her. I’ll make sure she understands everything you need her to, and if I fail then the punishment is how you see fit—only I want to be the one to be punished and not her. Please?”
Dad puts his hands on his hips and looks me up and down, mulling over my proposition before he clicks his teeth and nods.
“You have until tomorrow night to make sure she gets it, otherwise, you’re fucked. In more ways than one,” he says dangerously before he goes back and sits at the island and resumes his watch over me.
But he doesn’t know that I already have a plan. If I fail Cleo—if I fail him, he won’t have a chance to punish me, because I’ll set the children free before I punish myself for failing to protect them against his wrath and desires.
The children have cleaned up and are sitting at the dining room table, happily eating their peanut butter and jelly sandwiches. I’m sitting at one end of the table, and Dad is sitting at the other. He’s engaged them in conversation about what they did outside, and even though it sounds like the interest of a doting father, I know better. It’s the inquisition of damaged man that wants to make sure that they know that the well is off limits.
Richter tells him about the bugs he found with Skylar and how she squealed “just like a girl” when he held a worm to her face. Dad laughs as Skylar yells at her brother for making her look like a “sissy” in front of her daddy.
A small smile forms on my lips. I never had siblings—none that I grew up with anyway, so to watch them go back and forth is as amusing as it can be in the situation we find ourselves in.
“What about you, kid? What did you do out there?” he asks, turning his attention to Cleo.
She’s been quietly nibbling on her sandwich and when she realizes that Dad is speaking to her, she nervously cuts her eyes towards me before setting her sandwich down and pushing her hair out of her face. I lean over with a napkin and gently wipe away the small streak of jelly she left on her beautiful little face and kiss her gently on the cheek.
“Tell your Daddy what you did outside,” I say to her softly. Unlike Richter and Skylar, Cleo has some slight abnormalities when it comes to her ability to understand things and respond as quickly as Dad wants, but that’s to be expected considering her origins. It hurts my heart that this inbred family tree decided to stump it’s fucking branch with her, because she’s such a beautiful, caring soul. While her outside is a thing of wonder, her mind is stunted.
In a way, she’s kind of like him, only he chose to be the monster he is, and she had no say in the matter. Not that my Cleo is a monster because she’s not, she’s just different from her brother and sister and special in her own way.
“I ran around,” she says, leaning across the table, looking down at him carefully. “And then I ran some more.”
Dad looks at her for a moment before he rolls his eyes and turns his attention to me. “Have you been schooling these kids like I told you to?”
“Yes,” I reply evenly. I don’t want him to start in on her again—Cleo is so sensitive because of her inbreeding and young age, that all it takes is a disapproving look to render her a sobbing mess.
