Chapter Thirty One
I awake to the smell of bacon and freshly brewed coffee, and for the first time in a week, I feel home. Trickles of warm sunlight filter through my bedroom blinds beckoning me to wake and greet the day. I stretch my stiff limbs and yawn loudly. I feel good. Great, actually. Sleep hasn’t exactly come easy since discovering that the Dark knew our address. Though I know they couldn’t penetrate the wards around the house, somehow they got to our mailbox. The question has been gnawing at me incessantly, among the other numerous worries.
“Good morning, dear!” Donna exclaims as I enter the kitchen.
“Hey, Mom. Something smells good,” I say grabbing a mug for coffee.
She doesn’t touch the stuff, and Chris left hours ago for work. She must’ve made a fresh pot just for me. After I’ve doused my serving with a substantial amount of flavored creamer, I take a seat at our little breakfast table and enjoy the piping hot brew.
“You’re just in time. Breakfast is served!” She places a huge plate of pancakes, scrambled eggs and crisp bacon in front of me.
My eyes grow wide at the mountain of food staring back at me. “Wow. This is great, but you know you didn’t have to do this. I could have just had a bowl of cereal. Besides, won’t you be late for your class?”
“I’m not going today. I got someone to fill in for me,” she says proudly. “I thought we could chat. Catch up. I feel like we hardly get a chance to talk anymore.”
I take the opportunity to drown my food in maple syrup before answering my mom. “I know. Just been really busy, you know. But once I graduate, I should have a little more free time.”
“Really? Even with the new job? Running a store is a pretty big responsibility. Very time consuming, I’d assume.” Donna digs into her bowl of yogurt and fresh berries.
“Yeah, but I’ll have help. I plan to choose a reliable staff that will be able to handle things efficiently even when I’m not there.” Too bad Allison, the inappropriately flirtatious sales slore, won’t be included in that bunch.
“Sounds like you’ve put some thought into this. I’m proud of you. I didn’t know you were interested in fashion. I mean, you’ve been working at the mall, but I thought you hated retail.”
I munch my syrup-dipped bacon and shake my head. “I don’t exactly hate it. I just don’t particularly like hounding people to buy stuff. I hope to make it a comfortable experience for both the buyer and the seller. People are more likely to spend money when they feel at ease and welcomed. No one wants a pushy shadow following them around while they shop for undergarments,” I chuckle.
Donna gives me a weak grin, though I can tell it’s forced. “What?” I ask with a furrowed brow.
“Oh, nothing,” she shrugs. “I just always flinch a bit when I hear the word ‘shadow,’” she explains.
Of course, the Shadow. The organization of the Dark implemented to uphold their laws. And execute their punishments. My father, Alexander, was a decorated member of the Shadow. And when he broke their most sacred cardinal rule, he was put to death at the hands of his beloved brotherhood.
“Did he try to fight them? Alexander? When they took him?” I ask meekly.
“I don’t think he did,” Donna says shaking her head. “He knew it would just be worse for your mother. He didn’t want her to get involved and fight on his behalf. He wouldn’t risk either of your lives.” Donna looks up and gives me a warm, comforting grin. “He really did love you. I remember how excited he was when he learned that he would have a daughter. You are like him in a lot of ways.”
My face instantly brightens with the thought that I could resemble my father, the skilled, cunning tracker that fell deeply in love with my mother, his mortal enemy. “How so?”
“You’re brave like him. I mean, Natalia was incredibly brave, but he had this silent courage about him. You never really saw him ruffled. He didn’t wear his heart on his sleeve, you could say. Natalia was quick to react. Alexander was calculated, always in control.”
Calculated. Controlled. I don’t think I’ve ever considered myself as either of those. Maybe Donna sees something in me that I don’t remotely recognize in myself. But I have seen those traits. In Dorian. He is always so measured. Cool, calm, and collected.
“Really? Humph. How else?” Now I’m intrigued.
“Your love for your friends and family. You are protective like him. You don’t want people to be hurt or uncomfortable. He was like that. He always wanted to take away your mother’s anxiety when things got difficult. He hated seeing her so distressed.”
I could see that. I do feel the need to protect my loved ones. But who wouldn’t? I am reminded of the time when I had the meltdown in front of the Italian restaurant downtown. How Dorian took away my stress and pain. He was so caring, so loving. He fixed me. He protected me from myself.
“Believe it or not, you have his sense of humor!” Donna continues. “Unless you knew Alex, you couldn’t tell if he was joking or not. He was wickedly sarcastic. I found him hilarious, and you wouldn’t expect that from someone like him.” I can tell this trip down memory lane has put her in good spirits. I smile at my mom brightly, encouraging her to keep going. “And he loved music. He had the most beautiful voice too. Would sing to Nat’s belly, to his baby girl, every night.”
To hear Donna affectionately call my mom Nat warms me thoroughly. They were close, all of them. Love was there. I wasn’t the only one who lost when my parents were slaughtered. Donna lost her closest friends. She has suffered so much in the name of love.
“You knew him well. Alexander. Wasn’t that difficult, considering?” I don’t dare elaborate.
“Extremely, at first. But I couldn’t deny the immense love he had for Natalia. No one could. It literally radiated from him. Both of them, actually. By then, your dad, Chris was in my life. He persuaded me to give Alex a chance. Told me I couldn’t hold an entire species accountable for the act of one cruel, disgusting being. He was right. Alex was a good one,” she smiles and nods.
I imagine the four of them, laughing, talking, joking, being happy. Not unlike the bond my friends and I share. Though I can’t picture my parents’ faces, I can only imagine how gloriously beautiful they were. What I wouldn’t give just to get a glimpse of them.
“Who do you think I look like?”
Donna narrows her eyes as if she’s deep in thought. “I’d say Nat. You have her eyes, her beautiful hair. And her smile. She had the most dazzling smile. It could literally light a dreary day. You have Alex’s nose though, and some of his expressions. It’s funny; I see so much of them in you. They truly live on through you.”
I can’t deny the fresh emotion that pools in my excited eyes. To know that I have a piece of them with me, that I even remotely resemble their greatness, fills me with joy and hope. Maybe I can survive this. Maybe I can persevere with their strength, courage and tenacity coursing through me. They sacrificed so much for love. Maybe I can too.
I glance down at my half eaten breakfast and try to blink away tears. When I look back up at my mom, I can see that she is fighting with her own moist eyes. A smile stretches across my lips.
“Thank you for this. Really.”
She knew I needed this pep talk. She knew I needed to know that I was created out of love and courage and goodness. I had been walking on eggshells, afraid of what I could be capable of, and she is telling me that it’s okay. I am okay.
I rise to my feet and clear my plate. “I’m gonna grab a shower and get some studying done. Thanks for the talk, Mom.” I mean it. Though my apprehensions have not completely dissipated, Donna has made them easier to face. She’s made me realize that I owe it to her, Chris, Natalia, and Alex to survive.
The hours tick by seamlessly with the help of the Dorian-inspired playlist on my iPod. When I look up, it’s already 4 PM. Humph. Usually studying is like pulling teeth for me, yet it’s been oddly painless this time around. I close my Astronomy textbook, and stretch my stiffened limbs. My growling stomach leads me to the kitchen, where I find Chris, surprisingly. He usually doesn’t get home until 6 PM or later.
“Hey, Kiddo,” he greets me from the refrigerator. He is still dressed in his smart navy suit and tie.
“Hey, Dad. You’re home early.” I grab the loaf of bread from the bread basket and search the cabinet for the jar of peanut butter.
“Yeah, thought we could all use a nice dinner out. Whadayasay?” He decides on a can of ginger ale and an apple, and looks up to smile at me, awaiting my reaction. It’s a welcomed sight, considering how tense things have been between the two of us.
“Sure, sounds good.” I opt for just a single slice of bread with peanut butter in an attempt to save my appetite.
“Great. Your mom ran out to the store. She should be back shortly. We’ll leave in a couple hours, ok?” Chris is really trying to regain the seamless ease we once shared. His efforts don’t go unappreciated and I smile back at him warmly.
“I’ll be ready! Thanks, Dad,” I say before heading back to my room.
My family and friends are all I have. I have to fix the fissures that threaten to tear us apart while I still have the chance. I grab my cell phone and scroll down for Jared’s number. After a few rings, it goes straight to voicemail but I hang up before it prompts me to leave a message.
Since I have a couple hours to spare and couldn’t possibly read another word about globular clusters or moon phases, I decide to turn up the music and start organizing the things I’d like to take to the new apartment. I grew up in this room; it’s been my sanctuary since I was 14 years old. Six years of bittersweet memories. I couldn’t possibly strip it bare of all the joy, pain, frustration, laughter, fear, and love that fill it. It’s not like I will be gone forever, and it would destroy Donna if I emptied it and didn’t leave at least an inkling of her daughter in here.
Assessing my closet, I realize that I need to go through it and discard old, outdated clothing. Many items are from high school, and though it was only a couple years ago, I’m not exactly going to be reverting to my old Goth days or the skater look complete with huge, wide-leg jeans. I begin to get nostalgic pulling the items from the hangers and tossing them into a pile for Goodwill.
High school wasn’t exactly pleasant for me, but it was a necessary experience that helped shape who I am today. I can’t believe I wore most of the apparel, and have a good laugh at my lack of fashion sense. I can only imagine what Morgan would say if she saw me in the tasteless frocks. She didn’t move to the Springs until right before Senior year when I had finally found my fashion footing. If she had met me just a year earlier, we probably would not have been friends, supernatural bond or not.
After I deplete almost half of my wardrobe, I get to work on my childhood collection of stuffed animals propped up on a little wooden bench. These will not be thrown away. At least Donna can come in here and reminisce on the days when I was a normal, non-threatening little girl. However, I do want to take a few to the new apartment, just to feel some kind of connection to my old life.
I pick up an old rust-colored teddy bear. Jared gave it to me after winning it at one of the county fairs some years back. He was always so skilled at carnival games. He could knock down empty tin cans with rubber balls and pop balloons with darts like nobody’s business. And I was always there cheering him on. I wonder if we’ll ever be like that again. Chances are Aurora now occupies that place in his life, though I doubt she’d be caught dead at one of our usual haunts.
I notice what appears to be a slip of paper hidden behind my little display of furry friends. I knock a few stuffed animals out of the way, and reach my hand behind the bench to fetch it. I can tell from the thickness of the paper that it’s actually a photograph. Once recovered, I look down at it cheerfully, expecting it to be an old picture of me and my friends. However, five totally different faces stare back at me from the aged photograph. They are all gloriously youthful, jovial and beautiful.
To the far left, I recognize what looks to be a young Chris. He looked so handsome, strong and carefree. Even back then his brown hair was clean cut, yet I can see a hint boyish charm in his gleaming smile. His face is turned towards a slim, gorgeous blonde. Donna. It’s strange how much she hasn’t changed over the years. In the photo her hair is longer, and her skin is luminescent, almost like porcelain. Chris is looking at her lovingly and it appears that she is laughing, her eyes closed and head tilted back just a bit. She’s happy, and I can almost feel her loving spirit exuding from the picture.
Next to Donna is the most stunning woman I’ve ever seen. Her long chocolate brown hair falls in deep waves down her back and her skin is the color of fresh cream. She is smiling brightly and her startling golden eyes hold immense ardor as she cradles her round, bulging belly. A large, masculine hand also embraces her pregnant stomach, the hand of the striking, caramel-colored man standing next to her. He, too, is smiling, and I can’t help but be in awe at his exquisite beauty. His thick, black hair stands in tiny coils and his full lips are fenced by a neat goatee. His most attractive feature is the contrast of his hauntingly light eyes against his copper skin. I’ve never seen the combination before and it’s breathtaking. The dazzling couple is obviously in love. And they seem overjoyed at the prospect of welcoming a new baby into their lives.
Their faces remind me of someone. They remind me of myself. The almond shape of the woman’s golden eyes. Her heart-shaped face. Her long wavy tresses. The man’s button nose. His dark hair. This is Natalia and Alexander. My parents- the Dark Hunter of the Light Enchanters and the Dark One from the Shadow. It’s hard for me to believe that I was conceived by such amazingly beautiful people. Their looks are otherworldly, astonishing, causing me to gasp in admiration.
I wish I could cherish this moment and enjoy seeing the faces of my birth parents for the first time. But their overwhelming beauty and their obvious affection for each other and their unborn daughter is overshadowed by another staggering discovery in the picture. Standing next to my father, Alex, stands a tall, sculpted figure displaying a seductive half-smile. Olive skin, hair the color of onyx, and smoldering ice blue irises. He appears to be in his mid-twenties, full of youthful exuberance and delicious danger. Seeing him here makes my heart pound with alarming fervor, and my breathing becomes ragged and shallow.
The alluring man in the photograph is no stranger to me. I know him well, just as he knows every inch of me inside and out.
Dorian.
My Dorian.
And it all becomes crystal clear. What Dorian has been trying to relay to me all along. What I have been trying like hell to run from since my twentieth birthday, still trying to hold on to just a shred of normalcy. He knows who I am. He knows I’m the Dark Light. And the beautiful dream boasting colorful images of love, contentment and a future with the alluring man I so desperately love disintegrates right before my eyes, morphing into a horrifying, bloodcurdling nightmare.