Goblin Cursed, page 11
Thirty minutes later, as I sat on the Jeffries’ family paisley couch across from the 3 Jeffries’ women, I was eating my words. This was going to be harder than I’d thought. I’d been here for 20 minutes and they were a tougher nut to crack than an unripe walnut. All I’d succeeded in was having each of them retreat in one manner or another. Nadine, the mother and matriarch (and I used that term loosely) looked like she was going to sink through the horrid couch and clear past the floorboards. She made a meek woman look adventurous. Becca, who looked like a replica of her mother with her platinum blonde hair and waifish frame, hadn’t moved her eyes from the black stain that dotted the carpet five feet in front of her 5 minutes past when I’d gotten here. The only person I’d gotten any sort of response out of was Tillie. She and John must have taken after their father in coloring because she had a strong jawline, which was currently clenched in barely suppressed fury. Her hateful brown hair stood up on its ends after repeatedly being pulled by her hands as she ran them through the thin strands over the course of our conversation. She was currently in the middle of “giving it to me.” I tried to remind myself they were also the victims here as she screeched on.
“...I don’t know who you think you are coming here. Like we would even think about turning Johnnie over to the likes of you, even if we did know where he was. It should be a damn crime for putting away a man who was just trying to do the best by his family the only way he knew how…” she said, going on and on.
I don’t know how long she’d been going on, but I’d tuned out long ago. When someone didn’t see that a crime had been committed, you weren’t going to change their mind over the course of a few minutes. In a world where people didn’t like to change their minds on little issues, they sure as hell weren’t going to budge on those things, we call values. I pressed the coin in my pocket between my thumb and forefinger. With the tip of my finger, I outlined the phoenix I knew by heart now. I stifled a yawn. Tor Mór, I wished I’d gone back to sleep when I had the chance.
“I say we burn her at the stake. Or better yet, throw her in a pit and let snakes eat out her eyeballs,” Bab piped up, clearly sick of hearing it too.
I decided to go for a different tactic. Partially because it was against the law to do either of the things Bab had suggested, though I must admit the thought did make me feel a little better. You couldn’t cure bad. But was she bad? Or was she caught up in the tornado of emotion?
“But let me ask you something,” I said, knowing full well that I was interrupting her tirade.
Becca’s head flew up. The disturbance seemed to shock her out of her trance. Tillie was not taken aback however. No, ma’am. She was pissed. Red rimmed eyes shot fury at me. I kept talking like we were having a pleasant conversation about sunny weather.
“Don’t you think it was a little selfish of him to do this to the family?”
Tillie sputtered. “Do this to the family? He’s done nothing but sacrifice for the family. Sacrifice everything. It was the only way he knew to take care of us.”
I turned my head to the side, like I was actually thinking about the crazy logic she’d thrown down.
After a moment, I shook my head and said, “But was it really the only way? If he’d have just been honest everyone in the family could have pitched in, helped out. There are countless organizations that are there for families suffering loss. You all could have gone to any of those. Together.”
Becca’s brows furrowed at this, not like she was angry, more like she was thinking.
Pressing my advantage, I went on. “He wasn’t just trying to ‘help.’ He was trying to prove how manly he was. That he was good enough to be man of the house, and when he couldn’t, instead of admitting that, he single-handedly, without consulting one of you about the fate he was roping you into, made the decision to bring you into the dangerous underbelly of the criminal world. Can you imagine how badly things could have gone? I say you thank your lucky stars the worst thing that happened was John got arrested and some of your possessions confiscated.”
“I know what you are trying to do.” said Tillie, fairly spitting her fury. “You are trying to get in our heads. But it won’t work. We don’t know anything, but even if we did, we wouldn’t tell you. We wouldn’t rat out our brother. Not after everything he’s sacrificed for us.”
From her statement about not getting into their heads, it was clear she was so wrapped up in her own hatred that she wasn’t paying attention to Becca because right about now, she looked like she was about to go all plastic-bag-in-the-wind.
“He sacrificed everything, did he? No, he didn’t. He didn’t sacrifice you. But that’s exactly what is at stake next if you go along with him. You could be attending her funeral right now,” I said pointing from Becca to Nadine.
“That wouldn’t happen,” protested Becca, but I could hear the uncertainty in her voice.
“Couldn’t it? Why don’t you read up on crime families, after I leave. So you can know what life you are signing up for when John contacts you again and you don’t report him,” I stood up and gave them all a hard look, trying not to look like I was focusing on Becca. “Or instead, you could make the decision to finally take control of your life and give me a call.”
I stood up and threw my business card on the table. Becca stared at the plain white and black business card, tangible fear flowing from her. Tillie’s reaction was far different. She matched me, move for move, as she stood up and snatched the card off of the pine coffee table.
She ripped it into tiny pieces and held it out to me saying, “We won’t be needing this.”
I shrugged like it made no difference to me, “It’s your funeral.”
I caught Becca’s wide eyes. I gave her a meaningful look before turning to the door. I started to walk to the door, thinking I’d misread her when she popped up like a thermometer on a turkey and followed me. “You get yourself out of here.”
I played a pretty good poker face and tried to appear offended as I said, “It’s not like I’m going to steal anything on my way out.”
“You better believe it because I’m seeing you out,” she said, her face red through the lie.
Tillie, who’d eyed Becca since she stood up, swung her gaze to me. Her evil eye said she wouldn’t be surprised if I tried to steal the whole house from underneath their asses.
Becca and I walked to the door in silence. It wasn’t until she’d opened the door for me, I stepped outside, and she followed me closely behind that the tension in my arms began to ease.
“Look, I don’t like you or trust you.” she began by saying, her jaw working.
I crossed my arms and didn’t bother to say anything. She’d obviously come out here for a reason. She shifted on her feet and looked off into the distance, looking at nothing but the inside of her mind and the thoughts that undoubtedly crashed around in there like mallets against cymbals.
Her throat worked and she said, “But I can’t keep doing this. Since John was caught, our family has fallen apart. It’s like when we lost Dad all over again. I can’t keep doing this. At some point, we need to be able to heal and move forward.”
Running with it, I asked softly, “Does that mean John has contacted you?”
She snorted and bitterly said, “If he’d contacted us, we wouldn’t be talking right now. When he says jump, we say. ‘how high?’ It was the same as when Dad was alive. I can’t do that again. I need to live my own life for a change.”
I nodded, knowing exactly what she was feeling. Pulling another business card out of my purse, I held it out to her. “Well, when he contacts you, call me. I’ll take care of everything.”
She nodded numbly, not taking the card. “Do you have any information that I could use to possibly locate John?” I asked, pressing my advantage. “The more information I have the sooner we can put all of us out of our misery.”
“I...I wouldn’t know what to give you.” She said softly, the wind almost snatching her words away. “John always kept to himself.”
“Was there a place he liked to go? A grocery store? Anything?” I asked, searching for possible answers.
“No, we usually did his shopping for him, and he pretty much spent most of his time here when he wasn’t...working.” She finished the sentence, her mind processing the lie John had told them about him going off to a job every day. Like he wasn’t really going off and scamming people from 9-5 instead.
I tried not to show my disappointment. My mind worked. There had to be something. I’d finally got someone close who could talk to me. I had to be able to get some kind of lead. It was a stretch, but I asked, “What kind of phone did he have?”
“A...Pixel 3, why?” she asked, her face clearly said I was grasping at straws.
Maybe I was, but I had to try something.
“What about a Gmail address? Does he have one of those?” I asked.
Her brows furrowed and she cocked her head, “Well, yeah, but I don’t see how that is going to be much help.”
I wanted to laugh out loud, or shake her in frustration. Most people had no idea the kind of information Google kept on you. What most families did know though were each other's passwords.
Tapping the card against my lips, I said, “Trust me. It’s going to be a huge help. There’s a lot of technology nowadays. Do you happen to know any of his passwords?”
She shrugged and looked away as she said, “I could take a pretty good guess.”
Praying she did, I pulled a pen out of my purse and handed it to her along with the business card.
She looked at the card, scissored between my fingers. She softly shook her head. After a second, she took it, scrawled some information on the back, and handed it back, her motions quick and jittery. I put it back in my purse and took out another business card. When I gave her the card this time, she took it right away and shoved it in her front pocket, like it could burn her. She might not like it, but she didn’t have to. All she needed to do was call me. And I knew she would, if her brother contacted her. She didn’t want to live a life that wasn’t her own anymore. I understood that feeling. I lived it every time I stepped in the same room with Mother.
Chapter 12
Back at my apartment, I heard the noises before I put the key in the front door. Someone was in there. Oh, hell no. My heart beat double-time as I focused, pulling the energy from the ley lines to coil into my spine.
"Are we going to kick some ass?" Asked Bab, ready to do some damage.
I was right there with him. "Oh, for sure."
I had a second to wonder if it was the Goblins again before I shoved the door open to my apartment. When I saw the movement to my left, I feinted to the right and outstretched my hands, preparing to take a shot. It wasn't until then that I noticed Sven standing there holding a skillet with his shirt off in only his jeans.
"Gods above!" I shouted, throwing my hands in the direction of the ground, so I didn't shoot him on accident.
"Yum!" Bab said, getting over the shock sooner than I did.
"What are you doing here?" I asked, angry at Bab's reaction and how my body wanted to go over and rub over the length of him.
He raised the skillet in a defensive gesture. "I thought you might be hungry." He said, pasting on what he obviously knew was an enigmatic grin.
It worked on me like a sucker too. I could feel my insides get all gooey. I worked to solidify them and kept my footing as I asked, "I mean, why are you still here?"
"You aren't happy to see me?" he asked, putting his hip on the counter in a sexy pose.
He knew it was sexy too. The jerk. I scowled at him, mostly to hide the heat starting to creep up my body. When he could see his antics weren't working on me, he sighed and put the skillet back on the stove. He ran a hand through his hair and looked at me. I mean, really looked at me. I felt like there wasn't an inch of me that he didn't see. I squirmed.
A whole host of possible answers flitted across his face. From the way his shoulders slumped a shade, I could tell he decided to go for the truth. I applauded in my head. No matter how content pretty answers made you feel in the moment, they didn't help in the long run. And I didn't want to feel content for the moment. I wanted honesty, so I knew what I was dealing with. Knew how to move forward. That would make me happiest of all: the ability to move on for once in my life. To not forever be stuck in the past.
"You need someone here." He finally said.
Ouch. That hurt. Mostly because it was true. I was in over my waders, and I knew it. Quickly though, like all hurt does when it tries to be processed, pain quickly turned to outrage. I may be lonely, but that didn't mean I needed anyone. I'd never needed anyone in my life. After all, I had been through, all of the things I had lost, it was one of the only things I could still cling to: that I was capable. Me. Myself. I. How dare he insinuate that I wasn't enough?
The nice thing about outrage is it drove away lust like red dandelion seeds in a tornado. I stalked towards Sven. Without conscious thought, ley line energy flowed into me, unbidden, unrestrained. I let it come.
"Now, you listen a damn minute. I don't need anyone. I've survived- no flourished in this cold, cruel hell with no one else but myself." As static electricity built around me, I was dimly aware my hair had lifted off my head and had bled to purple. It was a classic sign things were getting out of control. But it didn't matter. Nothing mattered except the misery and anger knotting a tight rope inside me. "Fuck, go before that even. I didn't need anyone when my dad and my sister were killed. I didn't need anyone when I had to pull myself out of the bog of my mother's all-consuming sadness. I didn't need anyone when she snapped out of it only to make my life a living hell. And don't even get me started on living in New York City knowing no one. I didn't need anyone then, and I certainly don't need anyone now."
I felt wetness on my face. Good gods, I was crying. How humiliating. It wasn't until another splat hit my arm and then my head realized it wasn't me crying; it was raining. I looked up, and a thundercloud had gathered above us. Lightning flashed in the cloud, waiting for my call. Seeing the light dance calmed me a bit. I wasn't alone. I always had the rain. Being that the ceilings were so low, though, I really had to calm myself though. Just because I was upset didn't mean I wanted to electrocute Sven or myself. I took a deep breath and pulled the energy back inside me. I could feel it coil around the base of my spine, where it lies in wait, like a serpent waiting to spring.
When the clouds had dissipated a bit, and just a light fog dewed our skin, Sven dared to take a step closer.
"Look," he said. "I'm not here to argue that you weren't ok before. I'm not here to point out that your childhood was a nightmare. That may have been the truth. It may not be. But, it doesn't matter. What matters is that you need someone now. Between the voice in your head making you do things and these rogue goblins I've seen everywhere on the news, you're going to need backup. Because believe it or not, there comes a time in everyone's lives where they need someone." He stepped closer to me, close enough to where I had to tilt my head up to continue to look into his eyes. His hands came to clutch my arms tenderly. "Let me be your someone."
Heat blossomed where he touched me. I was pulled into the magnetism of his soul-searching gaze.
"You are a bit of a mess. I'm not going to lie." Agreed, Bab.
I laughed a watery laugh and said, "Look who's talking."
Sven seemed to know I wasn't talking to him and a rye smile hitched up the corner of his lips. He rubbed my arms, bringing me back to the moment. I wanted to give him what he was looking for, but I just couldn't. He'd killed my trust. It didn't just spring back to life with a couple of nice words. It was nice to have him here, though, so I gave him a concession.
"What have you got cooking there?" I asked, nodding to the skillet on the stove currently streaming an amount of smoke that guaranteed anything in it was going to be the same color as a Black Witch's magic.
His smile said that he knew I was agreeing to his sexy butt being around. For now. Looking back to the food, he started to explain what the concoction was but, upon seeing the swirling smoke, exclaimed, "Shit!"
He rounded the L-shaped counter curve at a speed that had me wonder if he wasn't going to be out the rest of the night if he knicked the sharp edge of the corner. As he sailed around it, it turned out that he was a whole lot more graceful than I was, big surprise there. I had to smile as he shoved my old spatula around the pan, a discouraged look on his face. I came over to peer into the pan. It had nothing to do with the fact that I missed his warmth.
"Right. Keep telling yourself that, honey." Bab said, a smile in his voice as I bent around Sven in the tight space.
The gooey black and yellow contents of the pan looked like a pot of melted bees. I burst out laughing. Sven's scowl just made me laugh that much harder.
"It's not funny," he said, lines etched between the usually smooth expanse of his forehead.
I doubled over at the petulant look on his face. "Ow! Ow!" I said, gasping between breaths.
"Do you know how long it took me to make that? I haven't made food for two centuries. Let alone on one of these." He gestured to the yellow stove with the spatula with a force that caused some of the blackened goo to fly off and stick to the dirty surface.
The science experiment he called food didn't even run or slide down the side of the stove. It stuck like a stubborn lump, defying gravity, like a zit. It really was a disaster. My smile widened so far my face hurt. It was the sweetest thing anyone had done for me in a long time.
"I can't tell you," I took the pan out of his hand and tossed it in the stainless steel sink with a clang and continued, "how much I appreciate the thought. It probably would have been delicious if I hadn't come in and interrupted."
