TRUST ISSUES: By Lori Titus

February 1st, 2012

The Marradith Ryder Series: The Art of Shadows, Part 69

Marradith socked David’s jaw with her right fist.

“I don’t have to use powers to knock the shit out of you,” she screamed. “Get away from me.”

He recoiled against the car window, holding his cheek. His lip bled. Despite that, Marradith was angry because she knew that he would heal quickly.

She got out the car and started walking. The rain was coming sown so hard she could barely see a foot in front of her. David followed her. He grabbed her arm, and this time she slapped him. When he grabbed her arm again  they struggled. She pushed him off of her one more time, and he threw his hands up in surrender.

“I know you’re married. I know you love him.”

“Well what do you expect?”

“Whatever feelings… what I feel for you is beside the point. You need to know about Adam. He’s the authority behind Xia.”

“Then why didn’t you go through proper channels?”

He laughed. “As in Justin? Or Rafael? They don’t want to hear what I have to say.”

“How do you know that?”

“Because my family went to them before, back when my Father fist died, and they were not believed.” David said. “Come on. Let me take you back to the house. I won’t touch you again.”

She turned and walked back to the car.

“If you want my help, you’re going to have to do a better job of giving me a reason to trust you. I don’t see any reason that I should.”

“I can tell you more,” David said. “But you have to hear me out. Don ‘t have them send me away before I can tell you…”

“Then you have to get out of my personal space,” she demanded. “And that includes my mind.”

**

Fiona received the pendant for Marradith that same afternoon.

The oval onyx pendant was encircled with a white gold setting.  This object was spelled to protect Marradith against mind reading.

Fiona wrapped the box carefully and arranged to have it delivered the next day. Marradith had been very clear that she wanted the purpose of this jewelry to remain secret. She attached a card, saying that it was an early birthday gift and that she was to be open it right away.

She placed a phone call to Justin.

“I’m sure on some level I’m going to regret doing this, because if you leave New Mexico right now, it’s going to take longer for Rafael to come back home. But your wife needs you.  I’m in her confidence, and I can’t tell you exactly why. But you need to head out to California on the next flight you can get. Now.”

**

Xia stood before Miranda Vega.

This was not the first time the demon had appeared to Miranda without being summoned. But it was the first time that she had seen her appeared since the night Miranda left New York.

“There’s no place on Earth that I can’t find you,” Xia said with a smile, crossing her arms. She looked like an ordinary woman, a beautiful creature with golden skin and dark hair. But as Miranda knew, this was a guise, just like the form of the other, Adam.

“What do you want?”  Miranda stepped backwards. She was alone in her brother’s cabin, a small property in the mountains that stayed empty for most of the year, except for the weekend before and after the Fourth of July. She’d been lucky to find enough food to sustain her for the better part of a month. The Sojourners had not reached her, and Shannon had not found her.

Yet this monster had showed up, appearing in the middle of her living room, needing no door, and giving no warning.

“Don’t look so frightened, Miranda,” Xia soothed in a motherly voice. “You did what we required of you as far as Rafael Castillo was concerned. It turns out that was not your fault or mine. His soul was not properly harvested–the deal Adam made with him was beyond its expiration.”

“So he gets no punishment, even though my husband’s death was his responsibility?” Angry tears sprang to her eyes. Rafael was not directly at fault for Pablo’s death, but as a leader within the Sojourners, Miranda felt him accountable for not controling the Wolves that ran free in her city. She could not forget that he had been turned Wolf; or that he was killed twice, and died in front of her.

“I would not say he’ll receive no punishment. There are many forms of pain which can be inflicted upon him.  But I need another favor.”

“What would that be?”

Xia smiled. ” I need a Lamia. A girl, named Marradith.”

____________________________________

©2012 Lori Titus

Join Lori with her co-host Tonia Brown on their radio show on Tuesday nights (6pm PST/9pm EST) on tmvcafe.com . You can keep up with her other forms of debauchery on Twitter as Loribeth215, or via her blog, on: http://loribeth215.wordpress.com/

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ORPHANED: By Braylie Barrier

January 31st, 2012

I awoke groggy and disoriented. I realized that I was still sitting on the window seat, and must have fallen asleep waiting for the yelling and sounds of fists hitting flesh from my parent’s bedroom to stop. The rain had stopped, leaves scattered around the yard from the winds. Then I realized it was quiet, the house not even making it’s usual noises as if it were holding its breath. I slipped silently from my seat to the door, hesitating to open it.

It had never been that quiet. There was always at least the furnace groaning to life or sniffling coming from my mother as she prepared dinner, trying to hide her tears behind her thin and knotty hair. But there was nothing. I pulled the door open slowly, looking to see if my father was hiding somewhere in the hallway, waiting for a victim like he sometimes did. Empty. I shivered, a terrible feeling crawling up my skin like spiders. I tiptoed to the stairs and started down, the creaking under my feet deafening in the silence.

The stairs ended in a small foyer where the front door was, the living room closed off to the right and the dining room closed off to the left. I turned down the hallway by the dining room that led to the kitchen, where my mother would normally be after a fight. But there wasn’t the usual sounds of pots and pans clanging or the smells of food sizzling coming from the kitchen. Just more of that unnerving silence. When I looked in, it was empty too. Confused, I went to the dining room and peeked in, but they weren’t in there either. I looked out the window to see if my father’s truck was still there, and it was.

I looked everywhere downstairs, and there was nothing. The last place to look was my parent’s bedroom, but I was never allowed in there. Apprehensively, I climbed the stairs again, but this time they were silent. The only whisper of sound came from my feet brushing along the floor.

The walk to their door seemed to take an eternity, but also passed by in a blur. I stopped in front of it, barely breathing in case they might be sleeping. My father didn’t like being woken up, and I learned that lesson long ago. My arms still bore the scars. My hand was trembling as I reached to tap the door, and my heart was pounding fear through my body. I lightly knocked, the sound echoing through the hallway. But there was no squeak from the mattress or shuffling of feet to the door. Not even the sound of breathing, as I held it in nervousness. Their door wasn’t shut all the way, so I slowly pushed it open to peek inside.

Their bed was empty and made, which wasn’t unusual, because my mother tried to make everything perfect to appease my father. Not that it ever really worked. Out of the corner of my eye I saw red on the carpet, and when I looked, I screamed.

It was everywhere, on the walls, the floor. The blood dripped, oozed, splattered all over the room. I could only see my father’s boots sticking out from the opposite side of the bed, and my mother lying face-down on the carpet, a gun by her still, pale hand. Horrified, I scrambled back from the room until my back hit the wall, pushing the air from my lungs. My feet went out from under me and I fell, shivers and sobs wracking my body violently. It was no longer quiet. It seemed like the house was screaming. My foot hit something and it skittered away. I looked up and saw the phone, which was normally cradled in the holder on the hallway table, lying still on the floor. I lunged for it, as if it would run if I didn’t.

My hands shook tremendously, my fingers repeatedly hitting the wrong numbers. Finally, after minutes of agony, I hit nine-one-one. I put the phone near my ear, the ringing drilling into my brain. Ring faster, I thought, ring faster, ring faster, ring faster. . .

After seconds of hyperventilating, a voice answered, cool and calm. How could they be calm during this?! I yelled, pleaded, screamed into the phone for help. I didn’t hear what the voice was saying, didn’t hear anything except for the words I kept repeating, as if it would take me back in time to prevent it from happening. But it wouldn’t. I knew it wouldn’t, but I didn’t want to believe it, so I kept screaming it. Over and over until my voice was almost non-existent and I could hear sirens coming closer and closer.

My parents are dead.  

_______________________________

©2011 Braylie Barrier

Braylie Barrier is  sixteen years old, and currently writing a novel, but enjoys short stories and writing flash fiction on the side.

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