The Devil’s Fool

But appearances could be deceiving.

 

I knew men like Charlie. They were excellent manipulators. “If you can read minds,” I said, “why don’t you just read mine and leave me alone.”

 

“I only use my abilities when I have no other choice. So far you have been most cooperative.”

 

“So if I stop answering your questions, you’re going to violate my privacy with your mind-reading skills?”

 

Charlie’s expression turned cold. “I will do whatever necessary to be sure you will not hurt anyone ever again. It’s not about me or you; it’s about innocent lives—innocent people that you killed.”

 

His rebuke stunned me. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have said that. I’m just not used to people doing things other than for themselves.”

 

Charlie’s warm smile returned. “There is much for you to learn about people and the good they are capable of. I’m afraid your parents skipped this important life lesson.”

 

I remained silent, too ashamed to speak again.

 

“Don’t worry,” he said as if sensing my thoughts. “It will take a long time, if not years, for you to learn to trust others. You can’t undo a lifetime of abuse in one day. But the most important thing you must remember, Eve, is that you are no longer a victim. They have no more power over you unless you let them.”

 

“And how do I know I can trust you?”

 

“Easy.” He jumped to his feet and came toward me. I cowered, unsure what he was going to do next. He raised his unarmed hands. “Don’t be scared. I just want you to touch my hand. I’m going to open my mind to you so you can see my true intensions, okay?”

 

I nodded.

 

Charlie lowered his right hand and held it toward me. It took effort, but I managed to raise my arm and touch the back of his hand. A sudden flash illuminated my mind and within that light there were thousands of pictures, layers upon layers of Charlie’s memories: his first lost tooth, the Christmas were he got his first bike, his first kiss. The memories came so fast that I barely recognized most of them, but I did learn something. Charlie was one of the good guys. His whole life was filled with laughter, kindness, and love, so unlike my own.

 

Satisfied, I withdrew my hand and asked, “How do you know so many things about me?”

 

Charlie returned to his place against the tree. “Partly my psychic ability and the other part through our connections with different people. You’d be surprised what I’m able to find out about a person.”

 

I bit the inside of my lip and averted my gaze. Moonlight broke through the tree branches and encased me in its light. I wasn’t used to being in the light. If I were stronger, I would’ve slid into the shadows.

 

I moved my hand beneath my chest and pushed down on the ground, forcing my body upright. Charlie moved to help, but I raised my hand to stop him. I slowly maneuvered myself into a sitting position.

 

“Can I ask how you ended up in this predicament?” he asked, his gaze lowering to the collapsed grave.

 

“My parents captured me as I was running away. I thought they’d believe I was dead and not try to find me, but I was wrong.” I paused at the sudden pain in my chest. Liane’s betrayal was almost worse than being buried alive.

 

“Why would they think you were dead?”

 

“A fire burned my house down. I was hoping they’d think I was in it at the time, but they obviously didn’t. They found me and gave me something that knocked me out. And when I came to, I was in there.” I motioned my head to the hole next to me.

 

“What happened to Alarica?”

 

“A vampire destroyed her. He tore this necklace from my, I mean, Alarica’s neck. It was controlling me.”

 

Charlie frowned.

 

“What is it?” I asked.

 

“It’s odd that a vampire, who doesn’t work for us, would do something like that and then not kill you.”

 

“Work for you?”

 

“I guess I should explain who I am and the company I work for.” Charlie brought his knees to his chest. “There’s so much to explain, I don’t know where to begin.” He sat for a minute and then continued, “Have you heard of the Deific?”

 

I said nothing.

 

“No, I guess you wouldn’t have, considering who your parents are,” he said.

 

But that couldn’t be further from the truth. I had heard the word “Deific” before. It was the only word my parents had forbade me to use. When I was ten, I’d said it after overhearing the word used by a guest of my parents. I’d asked my mother what it meant, and instead of answering, she grabbed me with inhuman strength and dragged me to the cellar where I remained locked up in the dark for days with only dirty water from a broken pipe to sustain me.

 

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