Wuthering Frights Part 7

"Of course I was going to ..." I started, but she interrupted me.

"Ever since you got back from the Netherworld, you've been different, Dulcie. You've been avoiding everyone, not answering your phone, not returning phone calls. What happened to you while you were there?" I tried to answer, but she shook her head, signifying that her tirade wasn't over. "Do you realize you never even told me what happened while you were in the Netherworld or why you went, for that matter? You've kept me completely in the dark."

I took a deep breath. "I left you a message to let you know I was back and that I was okay," I said. My words rang hollow and weak. She was right, I hadn't treated her like the friend she was-really, Sam was the closest person to me. She was more like family than a friend.

"Dulcie, I was worried sick about you, wondering what the h.e.l.l you were doing there. Not to mention, what was going to happen to you and Knight? And talking to Dia didn't make matters any better. The two of us were nervous wrecks. I couldn't sleep that whole week! And then all you can say is that you're back and you don't want to talk about it?" Her tone was becoming frantic and it was pretty obvious she'd been keeping all of this bottled inside her, finally reaching her boiling point.

"I'm sorry, Sam," I said in a mousey voice as I exhaled deeply, searching for some excuse as to why I'd failed her as a friend. "I've just been through so much lately, I barely know what to think of any of it myself."

"That's what your best friend is for," she responded, her tone softer. "Whatever you're going through, I'm here to help you. You don't have to go through it alone." She took a deep breath. "But in order for me to help you, you're going to have to tell me what the problem is."

But I shook my head, knowing she was wrong, that I couldn't tell her anything or I'd be endangering her. "Sam, I can't tell you the specifics, and please don't push me because I can't and I won't."

She eyed me with concern. "What happened to you in the Netherworld, Dulcie?"

I swallowed hard and shook my head again. "I can't talk about it."

She reached across the table and took my hand, her eyes piercing through me. "Are you in trouble?"

I took another deep breath. "Not at the moment and that's why I can't talk about anything. Just trust me when I say I'm handling it, okay?"

"What does that even mean?"

I stood up, feeling claustrophobic, like the feelings of turmoil were suddenly caving in on me, suffocating me with angst. I started for the door. "Sam, I can't do this," I said, my voice wavering between anger and sadness. "I have to keep you safe and as part of that, I can't tell you what's going on." I reached for my backpack and jacket. "You have to just trust me on this, okay?"

"Okay," she said and stood up, pulling at my backpack as she motioned for me to sit down again. "Please don't go. I won't press you anymore, I promise."

I just nodded and offered her an apologetic smile as I returned to her dining table again. "I'm sorry, Sam, but things are just going to have to be this way for a while, until I can figure a way out."

She started worrying her lower lip, something she did whenever she was frustrated or upset. "Does Knight know about any of this?"

"No!" I responded automatically. The thought that she might tell him started wreaking havoc with my stomach. "And he can't know anything! Not even that we had this conversation, okay? Promise me you will keep this to yourself."

She nodded. "I promise."

"Charm promise it," I said, knowing that if she charmed herself into promising, she literally wouldn't be able to break the power of the spell, no matter how hard she tried.

She frowned at me, probably because she was annoyed I hadn't trusted her enough not to say anything without the protection of a charm. Eventually, though, she stood up and walked over to her potions cabinet. Her potions cabinet was a two-foot-by-two-foot white box with matching doors that she'd mounted on the wall beside the front door, for easy access. She bottled a mult.i.tude of charms in vials in case she needed them right away and didn't have the time or energy to go through the rigmarole of performing each one.

The charm I sought, one which discouraged blabbermouths, was pretty commonplace so I wasn't surprised when she located it right away, taking out a vial filled with amber liquid. It was about the size of my thumb. She closed the cabinet doors behind her and then removed the cork from the top of the vial. Once it was free, she eyed me askance (another reminder that she was miffed I'd made her do this) and downed the liquid, saying aloud: "Whatever Dulcie O'Neil tells me, I will keep in strict confidence."

She carried the vial to the dishwasher and put it in for the next load. Then she faced me with anxiety in her eyes. "Does all this have something to do with why you broke things off with Knight?"

I nodded, my eyes suddenly feeling heavy with exhaustion. "It has everything to do with why I broke up with Knight."

She nodded and dropped her gaze to the floor before glancing up at me again. "Then you do still love him?"

Even though I was surprised to hear her using the "L word," mainly because I hadn't realized I'd been so obvious in my affection for the Loki, I just sighed and nodded. I figured on this one count, I might as well be honest.

"Is there anyone you can talk to about this, Dulcie?" Sam asked, her expression filled with concern. "Is there anyone you trust whom you can talk to?"

There was one person-Quill, but he was as deep in all this s.h.i.t as I was. Plus, I didn't think he'd appreciate me lamenting my shattered relationship with Knight. I shook my head. "I have to figure a way out of it, Sam, but I'll find a way." I offered her a tentative smile. "You know me."

She returned the smile, but hers was wistful. "If anyone can, it's you. I just hope you know what you're doing and I also hope you aren't in serious trouble." She sighed heavily. "I really wish you'd tell me what's going on, Dulce. I'm sure I could help you."

I shook my head. "I can't tell you anything, Sam."

She nodded and dropped her eyes to her lap where she'd folded her hands neatly, like she was posing to have her portrait painted. "I have something for you," she said as if just now remembering and stood up, walking to the far end of the living room. She opened the top left drawer of her entertainment center and produced a white box. Walking back, she handed it to me without a word.

I opened the box and found a bracelet inside it. It was made of silver wire and appeared to be knitted. The wire knit framed a greenish-blue stone in the middle of the bracelet. The stone was maybe the size of my thumbnail. I glanced up at Sam and smiled. "It's beautiful, Sam, thank you."

"It's called a Viking Knit," she said. "It's hand woven wire, and back in the days of the Vikings, they used the same weaving for their chainmail armor."

"Wow," I said, rubbing the stone between my fingers.

"It's one continuous strand of wire."

"It's really beautiful."

"Thanks," she said and looked as if she was very proud of it. "I made it myself."

I glanced up at her, surprised. "Oh my gosh, Sam! Wow, I'm really impressed! I love it." I rubbed my fingers across the slick surface of the stone, watching it sparkle in the light. "What sort of stone is it?" I asked.

"A protection stone," she said softly. "Also something the Vikings carried with them. They believed it warded away evil spirits. I charmed it to protect you against anyone who would do you harm."

"Thank you," I said again, throwing my arms around her.

"I'm really worried about you, Dulcie," she said as she rested her head against my hair.

"I'm going to be fine, Sam, I promise." Even as I uttered the words, I couldn't say I believed them.

She shook her head and sighed as she pulled away from me, smiling as she took each of my hands in hers. Her eyes were shining with unshed tears. "Whatever it is you've gotten yourself into, the bracelet should help keep you safe."

I watched as she took the bracelet from my hand and placed it on my wrist, securing it as she did so. I shook my hand, the bracelet sliding down my wrist and resting at the top of my hand. The silver knitted metal gleamed in the sunlight streaming through Sam's windows. It was beautiful. I glanced up at my best friend. "Thank you for being you, Sam."

I spent the majority of the day with Sam, and I had to admit, I needed every minute of it. Being able to forget the stress of my overwhelming life for a few hours did wonders for me. When I got home, I actually felt rejuvenated, recharged. 'Course, the added energy could also have been from all the food Sam had forced down my throat. I'd eaten more today than I had all week.

As soon as I walked in my door, I noticed Blue outside in my yard, pawing on the sliding door to be let in. Taped to the gla.s.s was a note. I walked over to the door and opened it wide, nearly falling over as Blue jumped up on me. He showered me with doggy kisses, his tail wagging as he peed all over the floor and then looked up at me in an embarra.s.sed sort of way.

"You silly boy," I said, laughing as I walked to my kitchen, grabbed a handful of paper towels and cleaned up his mess.

Then with Blue on my heels, I approached the sliding door and pulled the note off the gla.s.s, unfolding it to read: Dear Dulce, I didn't want to keep Blue too long cause I'm sure you miss him. He's a really great dog and if you ever need someone to dog sit again, call me first, k?

Really glad you're back. We all missed you tons.

Love, Trey.

PS: There's this convention coming up for Star Wars and I got this Chewbacca costume that's super cool and I was wondering if you would go with me to the convention? It wouldn't be like a boyfriend-girlfriend thing (Knight would kill me) but like a friend thing. I just don't want to look like a loser going by myself, you know? Oh, and don't worry about a costume-we can find Princess Leah or Padme or I also have a pretty cool ewok costume I wore last year. That might be a little big on you though ... Don't worry about a costume, we'll figure it out, k? Cool beans?

P.P.S: Thanks again for letting me keep Blue so long. I really like him.

Later gator!

Love, Trey.

I put the note down on my kitchen counter and couldn't help the sadness welling up inside me. I just felt as if I'd not only been a bad friend to Sam, but to Trey and Dia as well. And I couldn't even think about Knight. But the frustrating truth was that this whole situation was a catch twenty-two because I had to keep my distance from everyone in order to keep them safe. I didn't want Melchior knowing who my friends were because I didn't want him to use that knowledge against me ... or them.

I didn't have the chance to continue feeling guilty because the cell phone from Quillan suddenly started ringing. Feeling my throat constricting as I wondered what in the h.e.l.l Melchior or Baron wanted from me now, I reached for it and flipped it open.

"What's up?" I asked, my voice tremulous.

"Meet me at the portal by the loading docks in ten minutes. Melchior has requested to see us both."

Nine.

"Hi," I said, once I recognized Quill. He was standing next to his blue Mustang, which he'd just parked in the lot of the loading docks. I'd pulled in beside him a minute or so earlier. He closed his door, beeping the car locked as he faced me with a wide smile. His glance moved from me to my bike as his eyes narrowed.

"Is that your bike or a loaner from the ANC?" he asked and motioned to the Ducati, inspecting it as though he were displeased.

"Mine, but provided by the ANC." I removed my helmet, wedging it under my right arm as I stepped off the bike. The light of the full moon was so bright, it was like standing under a spotlight. The cold, salty ocean air whipped around me, chilling me through my leathers, while the smell of dead fish made me want to retch.

"Where's the Wrangler?" he asked.

I sighed, remembering my Wrangler and missing the yellow Jeep. "Gone. Totaled in an accident."

He didn't say anything but noticed my helmet underneath my arm and unlocked the mustang again, holding his hand out for it. I gave it to him and he plopped it on the pa.s.senger's seat. He was as aware as I that if I left the helmet unattended on my bike, it probably wouldn't be there when we returned from our errand to the Netherworld. Like I mentioned earlier, the loading docks weren't exactly the best neighborhood.

"And that?" he asked, referring to the leather jacket, which I was still wearing. "Remember, you'll get wings in the Netherworld."

That was one of the curiosities of the Netherworld which I liked least. As a fairy, wings would instantly sprout from my back as soon as I crossed over to Netherworld territory. The worst part was that my wings seemed to completely have a mind of their own. They'd start flapping unexpectedly and for no reason at all-annoying, to say the least. And they were also the reason I had to wear an oversized, baggy T-shirt which I'd slit in half down the back in order to make room for them. So, yes, it would be wise to leave my jacket behind. I took it off and handed it to Quill, waiting while he locked the door again.

"You totaled the Wrangler?"

The pervasive silence between us was telling. Quill had to be thinking the same thing I was-that once upon a time, when we were much closer, he would have already been aware of details like this. Now, however, there were parts of my life to which he wasn't privy. We definitely weren't the friends we used to be.

"Yep," I said and shrugged like the accident hadn't been a big deal although it had been a very big deal.

"Were you hurt?" he asked in a soft voice, his tone troubled and contemplative.

"As you can see, I'm fine," I said simply, not wanting to focus on the past any more than I wanted to focus on the shreds of Quill's and my former friendship. It was enough that we were maintaining some sort of pseudo friendship now, something born from necessity, considering the fact that neither of us belonged to the social circles in which we were now included.

He glanced at me curiously, but refrained from commenting, instead facing the Ducati again. "You'll need another mode of transportation."

"Why?"

"Don't want you to give off ANC everywhere you go."

I shook my head. "I thought my added value to this cl.u.s.ter f.u.c.k was all because I'm active ANC?"

Quill's eyes traversed me from head to toe as he took a deep breath and shook his head, apparently appreciative. "You look good in leather," he said with a soft smile. But at my less-than-impressed, raised-brow expression, he got back to the point. "Being active ANC isn't the only reason you're valuable to your father or me, Dulcie. You know that."

"Actually, I don't, but let's skip that conversation," I retaliated, wanting to think about my father as little as possible. "You think I need to drive something different to avoid suspicion?" I figured Quill was worried that leaving my ANC bike unattended in questionable places such as the loading docks, might draw speculation should anyone in the know (namely, Knight, Trey, Sam, etcetera) happen upon it. He actually had a good point.

"Yep," he said and nodded. "Apparently, we think alike."

"Well, an untraceable vehicle can be part of the agenda we discuss with Daddy Dearest," I muttered and started forward.

"Portal is this way," Quillan corrected me. He motioned for me to go in the exact opposite direction I was headed. I glanced at him dubiously, trying to remember the previous location where the portal spat us out the last time we returned from the Netherworld.

"That way?" I asked, my hands on my hips and eyebrows scrunched in an expression of "Um, you're wrong, Quill."

"Yep, the portal always changes location. It's a safety measure," he explained.

"Interesting," I said, shrugging as I started toward him again. "How do you know where it's going to pop up?"

He rolled up his left sleeve and pointed to his watch. "Portal compa.s.s. Remember?"

I nodded, as I recalled him using the same device to locate the Netherworld portal that brought us here. But on to more important topics ... "So what does Melchior want with us?"

Quill glanced down at me and smiled before shrugging. "That's the twenty million dollar question. Who the h.e.l.l knows?" He took a deep breath and shook his head, leaving me with the feeling that he wasn't exactly fond of my father, even if he were Melchior's right-hand man. "He's summoned me to discuss incredibly unimportant s.h.i.t in the past."

"Such as?"

He sighed as he thought about it, his frown slowly giving way to a smile as he apparently remembered a case in point. "To tell me a joke," he said and shook his head, the humor leaking out of his expression while something close to irritation crept in. "He summoned me once to tell me a stupid a.s.s joke that I already knew." Then he laughed again, but the sound was forced, like he was pretending to find it funny, while there wasn't a shred of true amus.e.m.e.nt in him.

Somehow, I couldn't share in Quillan's feigned humor. I didn't regard my father's actions and his personality flaw of ordering people around very funny. Disrespectful, unnecessary and self-centered, yes, but funny, no. I stopped walking and took a deep breath. Quill paused in front of me and turned around to face me with a curious expression in his eyes.

"I'm not going to do this forever, Quill," I said, my lips tight. "I'm not going to let him dictate my comings and goings for the rest of my life."

Quill was quiet for a few seconds as he apparently searched for something to say. "Once you're in, there's no getting out, Dulcie." He said the words as if he were already resigned to them, and almost as though he believed them wholeheartedly. The truth of the matter was that he probably did because he'd been involved in this lifestyle for so long, any embers of fight left within him had died a long time ago.

I will never allow that to happen to me, I insisted to myself. As long as there is breath is my body, I will fight or die trying!

"There's a way out of everything," I said resolutely. "And I'm going to find it."

"Dulcie, I hate to break your bubble, but you're already in the thick of it. There's no getting out."

I shook my head and clenched my teeth as I faced him with steel resolve. "I'm in it for the moment, but this arrangement isn't permanent. I'll find a way out."

He approached me then, placing a hand on either of my shoulders, the look in his eyes patronizing. "Your father is more powerful than you can imagine. You can't just go after him with your guns blazing. All you'll end up doing is sacrificing yourself and Melchior would just replace you."