Chapter Twenty-Six

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Pimlico

 

 

WHO KNEW FIFTEEN minutes had the power to completely change a person, a life, a relationship?

Stepping into that room, I knew it would be hard and emotional, but I had no idea I’d run the gauntlet, dredge up every agony, and swim through so many historical and present wounds.

I’d done that.

No one had forced me.

But as I touched my mother after a lifetime of shoulder pats and cool nods instead of hugs and kisses, everything I’d been harbouring, everything I didn’t even know fermented deep inside me, gushed forth in noxious honesty.

I didn’t do it to hurt her.

I didn’t say such things to be spiteful or cruel.

In fact, I’d made a promise not to mention a thing about it.

I just…couldn’t stop.

My childhood desires rose from nowhere, impulses took over, and I spilled things I never dreamed of spilling, especially to a mother who’d killed for me in front of a man who’d killed for me, too.

Two people who’d willingly stolen a life so I might live.

Two people who had a stain upon their souls for eternity.

I owed them more than I could ever repay.

I should protect them from unneeded memories and be ever so grateful.

They didn’t deserve to hear what I’d endured before their sacrifice made my existence better.

That was my cross to bear—they had far too many others and all because of me.

I knew all that.

I hated myself that it hadn’t stopped me.

And bringing forth such evil, spreading its darkness to the people I loved the most, hadn’t made any of it easier.

It didn’t make me better. It didn’t cure me. Purging myself in such a way didn’t release the filth still wriggling deep inside me like a snake I couldn’t catch.

It only made me sad and mad and tired.

So, so tired.

And when Elder murmured Japanese into my hair then bowed as if he was a knight laying his sword at my feet, my heart had fallen upon his blade in terror.

I didn’t understand what he said, but by the anguish on his face, it wasn’t good.

I’d tried to grab him…to ask him to explain…to introduce him to my mother now that dirty laundry had been aired, washed, and hopefully clean enough to fold away, but he’d kissed me and bolted from the room as if he would die if he stayed another moment.

If my heart had impaled itself on the hypothetical sword he’d laid at my feet, then it well and truly ran itself through in misery as the door closed on him, shutting us apart.

My insides curled up as horror splashed through me like sour wine.

What have I done?

How had I forgotten that he was listening too? That everything I’d tried to hide from him just vomited into reality and tarnished everyone in the room.

I wanted to chase after him.

I wanted to console him.

I wanted to erase that crucifixion in his beautiful black eyes.

Unthinkingly, I untangled myself from my mother’s embrace and climbed unsteadily to my feet.

I took a stumbling step toward the door, my mind consumed with fixing what I’d just broken, but then I looked back at my mother. At the way she drank me in. At the way she kneeled on the prison floor with such love and admiration and awe—three things I’d longed to see on her face since I was born—and no matter what I’d just ruined with Elder, I couldn’t ruin this.

Not now.

Not when it was so brand new.

I slowly sat back down again, nodding at my mother to join me on chairs instead of dirty linoleum.

She stood with a wince and sat, planting her hands in the middle of the table, her fingers waggling for mine.

Once again, I glanced at the door.

Elder…

Is he okay?

What happened?

My loyalties were divided. Indecision kept me stationary.

“You can go after him.” My mother’s voice wrenched my head up. “I understand.”

I had her approval.

My weight shifted from my butt to my toes, ready to launch me from my chair, but once again, I glanced at her face—to the regret and sadness and strange, messy pride—and settled back into position.

I had to accept that Elder was hurting but so was my mother.

So am I.

I couldn’t split into two and soothe both. I had to remain here, for now, and give my entire attention to her. I had to do that so I could at least bandage up some of my own pain by curing some of hers.

Then, once I wasn’t such a wreck, I could find Elder and do the same.

Knowing I had to cure others before patching myself up added another gruelling tax.

I’m exhausted.

Wrung out, mind blank, heart bruised.

But this was my fault.

No one wanted that trip down terrible memory lane.

I had to be the one to fix it.

Taking my mother’s hands, I sighed heavily. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to hurt you by telling you such things.”

A soft squeeze followed by a motherly scoff. “Min, you could cut out my heart right now, and you couldn’t hurt me any more than I did when I realised I failed to love you.”

We shared a tangled smile, letting silence fill the holes inside us.

Finally, she grinned, somehow switching such awful topics and choosing a much easier one. “He seems nice. Strange…but honourable.”

My bones ached as I looked at the door. “He saved me.”

“Is he good to you?”

Speech became thick with tears, so I nodded.

“In that case, he’s got my undying welcome to the family and thanks.”

I nodded again, biting my lip to staunch yet more liquid. There was so much to say, so many better things to discuss. Things like Morocco and Monte Carlo and the Phantom and swimming with dolphins. So many magical moments all granted by the man who’d bought me a genie bottle from a dusty, toothless vendor so many weeks ago.

He was my true genie.

Better than any guardian angel or lover combined.

I’m so lucky.

And I hurt him so terribly.

A knock sounded on the door, cracking wide to reveal, not Elder as my heart had hoped, but the guard who’d presided over this meeting. “Fifteen minutes is up. Time to say goodbye.”

So soon?

So fast?

Who knew fifteen minutes not only had the power to change a person, a life, a relationship, but also ticked faster than any other time on a clock?

My mother squeezed my hands again. “I can’t tell you how much this means to me to see you. To see you healthy and alive and with a man you obviously care deeply for.” She sighed. “I wanted so much for you, Tasmin. University, a career, a calling…but I’m wiser now than I was then. Looking back on my life, only two things stand out to have any real importance.”

“What two things?” I didn’t really want to ask. I feared she’d say her clients and awards she earned in her chosen field, but I wanted to be supportive, so I would plaster on a smile and nod brightly when she admitted it.

“You and your father,” she whispered.

I froze, my ears ringing with shock.

“Nothing else mattered. I see that now, and it’s too late. I loved your father very much, and he was taken from me far too young. And you, my precious girl, I loved too much, and I pushed you away only to lose you, too.” Her shoulders rolled as tears once again filled her gaze. “I’m still your mother, so I’m going to give one more piece of advice…if you’ll let me.”

I hid my amazement that she’d put family above career and smiled uncertainly. “Of course.”

Pointing at the door where Elder had run, she said firmly, “If you care for him and he cares for you, then ignore everything else. Forget everything I ever told you. Disregard everything society forces on you. You want kids; you do it. You want cake; you eat it. You want to go to the Olympics, by God, you have fun kicking ass.” She laughed at the last one, deliberately lightening the mood even though my heart smarted with yet more truth. I couldn’t have children so that point was moot—no matter how terrorizing.

“Under no circumstances do you let the should-dos dictate and steal your life. It’s too short, Min. It’s too easy to screw up. Be true to yourself and follow your heart. Only then can you look back and have no regrets.” She stood, keeping my hands in hers, pulling me to my feet.

Moving around the table, she pulled me into her arms.

Mother to daughter.

Woman to woman.

Her wiry frame fit against mine as if it were a mirror image, both of us paying for our choices with different battle scars.

“I love you, Tasmin.” She kissed my cheek, her dark hair mingling with mine for a second. “Stay in touch…if you want to. But don’t stay in England if it’s not where you want to be. Travel, explore, find where your soul is happiest.”

“But what about visits—”

She tapped my nose, stepping away. “Phone calls and Skype. I’m in prison, but they allow liberties for loved ones and family. Up until now, I had no one to put on my register. I’ll fix that today.”

She blew me a kiss as the guard waited for her to present her wrists to slap the cuffs back on. “I’m so proud of you, Minnie Mouse. So proud.”

I pressed my fist against my heart to prevent it from cracking under the pressure of such a gift. I couldn’t stop the trickle of tears as she was led away.

Only, these tears weren’t caustic and burning.

These tears were fresh and mending.

I was still exhausted.

I was still drained and crippled and frazzled from the day.

But for the first time, I unbuckled a piece of my past and deposited the terrible weight. Discarding one tiny piece of luggage—throwing away a satchel or a duffel filled with screams and silence—and finally had the courage to stroll away without it.

* * * * *

I’d expected to find Elder waiting outside the room, but instead, I found a fresh-faced officer who led me silently back the way I’d come.

I couldn’t argue about being escorted from the prison on my own, but I couldn’t stomach the thought of Elder leaving without me.

Nervousness pooled in my belly. Anxious heat hissed over my skin.

Where is he?

What had happened to warrant him leaving me alone in jail?

Even though fear pressed and tiredness fogged my mind, I held my head high and followed my guide. Passing through security, I signed out and pushed open the doors to return to freedom. The irony that I’d been a captive along with my mother wasn’t something I found humorous. I had my freedom now but how long would it be until she got hers?

My heart swelled with affection rarely felt toward her.

We’d both entered this calamity and survived with different habits and become someone entirely new.

In a way, I was glad. Perhaps this new mother-daughter existence would have a much closer bond than the previous version of ourselves. For once, I was looking forward to talking to her, answering her prying questions, and remembering how to be a member of a family.

Family…

Elder.

He was my family. He was the one I loved above all others—including myself.

Yet…he’d vanished.

Squinting in the newly appeared sunshine making a last hurrah before dusk fell, I spotted a black clad figure standing beside the sedan that travelled with the Phantom.

My heart leapt then plummeted as I recognised him.

Not Elder.

Selix.

Moving toward him, I struggled to contain the worried flutterings in my belly. “Where’s Elder?”

Selix cocked his head as he opened the back door for me. “He told me to inform you something urgent came up, and he had to attend to it.” His eyes flickered with the lie. “He’ll meet you in a couple of hours and escort you to Hawksridge Hall where the ball is taking place.”

Part of me wanted to stomp my foot and demand to be told the truth. To figure out why Elder had run and left his friend to feed me fibs. Yet the other part of me understood why.

I could understand how watching my mother and me rekindle our strained relationship could be taxing to anyone. What I’d said in there wasn’t nice or sugar-coated. My tears hadn’t been controlled or pretty.

But he knew me.

He knew where I’d come from. He’d been there. He’d waded through the blood and patched up my broken bones.

If he could do all that—stand beside me unflinching until today—then what had set him off? What made him run when we’d faced so much worse together?

Perhaps he regretted doing what he did for me. Maybe he second-guessed his willingness to get involved and needed some time on his own to revaluate his commitment now he knew more.

Or maybe…he wasn’t thinking about me at all? Maybe he’d sunk into his own private agony—his pain at never having an open-armed reunion with his family. My mother had withheld her love but had killed for me. His mother had lavished her affection and then banished him.

I was so lucky.

He was still alone.

My heart twitched and tore at the thought.

I’d been so selfish. Of course, he would be distraught at seeing two people who had never been close overcome their differences and unify.

I’m an idiot.

I rubbed my chest, doing my best to calm the lovesick muscle as I nodded at Selix. “Tell him to take all the time he needs.” I placed a leg into the car. “If you speak to him between now and tonight, can you please tell him I’m eternally grateful for everything he’s done for me. That he’s my family just like I hope I’m his, but if he’s reached his limit and needs space, then…” I looked away, fortifying myself for such traumatising words. “Tell him I understand, and he’s under no obligation.”

He smiled stiffly. “Will do. Now get in the car.”

I slid into the vehicle and held back the wobbliness of sadness and exhaustion as Selix slammed the door. That was what I liked about him. He was no-nonsense. He saw I was upset but didn’t take it upon himself to cajole or soothe.

His loyalties were to Elder, though I didn’t understand why as their bond bordered violence with a sprinkling of mutual respect.

At the start, I’d believed Selix was a servant loyal to his employer. That he was nothing more than paid help.

There was no way I thought that now.

Now, I believed Selix was there for his own purpose, and Elder would prefer them equals instead of the second-in-command role Selix preferred to play.

That’s all it is…a role.

A pantomime.

Just like Elder was playing the role as my protector.

He had his lines and delivery—following the script he wrote himself. However, I doubted abandoning me inside a prison while emotionally distraught was planned.

He must be hurting terribly.

I wish I was with him.

I wish he would let me help him.

Selix climbed into the driver’s seat, and, without a word, drove me to wherever I was meant to be.

* * * * *

The hotel room was opulent, but it wasn’t private.

As I entered the suite at some luxury establishment, I expected to have some time alone. Selix had checked me in and given me the keycard. He’d escorted me up in the elevator and left me to my own devices once I was safely deposited outside the room.

I’d happily accepted the reprieve. Readily looking forward to a bath, a nap, and perhaps some time to write a letter to No One.

My fingers itched to put my thoughts on paper after speaking them aloud for so long. Plus, the need to erase what I’d penned about my mother was the one thing keeping me going instead of collapsing into lethargy.

Yes, a note would help.

They always do…

As the door closed behind me and I entered the lounge, I froze.

Do I have the wrong room?

This one already had guests, and not one of them was Elder.

“Hello?” My voice sounded hollow to my ears. Mild shock that I’d spoken without thinking almost made me wish to be mute once again.

I didn’t want words.

I wanted letters.

I wanted No One.

I want Elder.

Living with trauma was a sneaky thing. Some days I was invincible—able to take on Elder and every obstacle in my path. And some days…some moments…those strengths vanished, leaving me shaking, panicking, and seeking all exits to flee.

This was one of those moments.

Backpedalling, all I saw were two women who weren’t invited, who I didn’t know, who could be part of any trafficking or racketeering scam.

“Get out.” I cursed the wobble in my tone.

A woman, with coiled brown hair and red lipstick, stood smartly from where she perched on the grey and navy couch in the window bay. “Ah, you’re finally here.” Clapping her hands, she summoned her friend to stand. They wore matching cream blouses with tailored black skirts and aprons with needles, tape, and chalk peeping from their front pockets.

“Who are you?” I grabbed a letter opener from the desk beside me, brandishing it. “What do you want?”

The women shared a look. The older of the two with ginger hair styled in a French twist held up her hands. “We’re not here to hurt you. You can put that down.”

“I’ll put it down when I know who you are.” I glanced behind me, eyeing the door. Selix had vanished into the room two doors down. If I was fast enough, I could run there before they could grab me. “Tell me. Right now.”

The older woman with ginger hair pointed at herself and then her friend, followed by the embroidered sigil on their matching breast pockets. “I’m Mel, and this is Nat. We’re from Social Art.”

“Social Art?” My hand grew slippery around my weapon. “What’s that?”

The red-lipsticked lady giggled. “Obviously someone didn’t pass on the message.”

When I gave her a blank look, she added, “We were hired by Mr. Prest to help you get ready for the masque.”

“Oh.”

A reply I could handle.

A response my flight or fight desires could accept.

Slowly, I put the letter opener down, my fingers creeping to my throat where prickling anxiety remained.

The masquerade.

I’d entirely forgotten about it.

All I wanted to do was rest. To somehow regroup from this afternoon and figure out what had happened to Elder. God, the thought of mingling with strangers…all of them wearing masks?

I gulped.

I can’t.

I wasn’t in the right headspace. If my ever-present fear had sprung up from two women, what would happen in a ballroom full of hundreds?

I had a better handle on my panic attacks, but what if one found me in the middle of a crowd? What if I collapsed and sobbed and screamed and Elder had to drag me away? I’d ruin his reputation and his meetings with whoever he planned to do business with.

Shaking my head, I bypassed them, spying a bathroom beyond. “I-I’m not feeling all that well.” I kicked off my ballet flats and made my way past a small table where a pad and pen embossed with the hotel logo begged me to scribble on it.

Pilfering the stationery, I didn’t care which hotel Selix had brought me to or whereabouts in London we were. We were in England, and that was all I knew. Back in the country I knew better than any other and I still found myself completely lost.

“Do you think you could call Mr. Prest and give him my apologies?” Inching toward the bathroom door—backing over the threshold and almost free from their sharp gazes—I shrugged. “I’m sorry, I’m really not feeling—”

Something whispered over my scalp, warm and heavy.

Oh, God.

Terror sprang. Self-preservation kicked in. I spun around ready to attack whoever had attacked me, only to bury my face in a billow of tulle.

“Ah, you found it.” Mel came forward, her heels silent on the carpet. “Your dress.”

Hugging my notepad and pen, I backed away, my lips parting as I studied the gown hanging from a collapsible wardrobe. Small shelving with the most delicious blood red heels and a box with Victoria Secret’s emblem rested beside the incredible creation of satin and lace.

“It’s one of our signature pieces,” Nat said as my arms went lax and I dropped the pad and paper. My entire body went floppy with awe. Shock. Amazement.

A rustle sounded behind me; followed by a soft voice. “That’s the dress he ordered. It’s from a collection called Bruised by Beauty by Nila Weaver.”

Mel chuckled. “Well, it’s a Weaver creation, but the designer of the company changed her last name a few years ago. In fact—” A light hand fluttered on my shoulder. “You’ll meet her tonight at the masque. She’s married to the owner—Jethro Hawk.”

Even being touched by a stranger couldn’t stop my wonderment as I studied the dress. It hung impersonal and lifeless, but it glowed with magic. Sorcery that promised whoever wore it wouldn’t be mere mortal anymore but someone transcended from mankind. Someone ethereal.

The bottom of the skirt was oversized and bell-shaped with acres of elegant swathes of every colour on the red and blue spectrum. Ochre to blood and midnight to forget-me-nots. The colours twisted and turned, smudged and battled to look exactly like a bruise upon human skin. Slowly, the colours stopped fighting, creeping up the dress until the war ended and red was the true winner.

Red—the colour of passion.

Red—the colour of pain.

It shimmered and beckoned and beamed with the richest, deepest crimson I’d ever seen—as if blood had cascaded right from someone’s heart. Off the shoulder with sashes of beadwork, navy and blue-black lace webbed like veins.

It was the most beautiful thing I’d ever seen.

And the most morbid.

Whoever wore this gown was shouting to the world she wasn’t pure. She wasn’t innocent. She was raw and bloodied and bruised and was so much stronger for it.

I choked on overwhelming love for Elder—that even running away he’d somehow found a way to tell me how proud he was.

The hand on my shoulder squeezed gently. “Whatever tiredness, worry, or illness you’re suffering, we have to find a way to fix it. This dress demands to be worn. You must be the one to wear it. It would be a sin not to.”

Nat pushed past me, clipping toward the vanity where rows of makeup already rested on black velvet runners. Bottles and brushes, palettes and creams all ready to paint their chosen one.

“Oh, I almost forgot.” Mel plucked a large box from the floor and held it out to me, cracking open the lid. “This goes with it. The whole ensemble is called Queen Who Bled.”

With my heart lodged in my throat, my eyes fell on the final ingredient. And for the first time, I felt faint for all good reasons instead of bad. The familiar closing of my lungs and rush of panic in my veins only brought wonder and a touch of anxiety that I could never be beautiful enough to pull off such a mask.

A mask undoubtedly chosen by Elder.

A mask that would grant me protection, beauty, and queenly power.

I would go tonight.

I would wear the dress.

I would find Elder and thank him for everything he was.

And then I would kiss him.

Because gifts such as these…they deserved a hundred kisses.

A thousand.

More.

“I’m suddenly feeling much better,” I whispered.

“In that case.” Mel smiled. “Let’s get you ready for the ball.”