Val stumbled through the carport door and into the kitchen, dragging her feet as if they’d turned to lead, so exhausted she could barely move. Toby trotted up and made a sound like a cross between a bark and a whine at her, maybe sensing something was deeply, irrevocably wrong. Dogs could sniff that stuff out, some people thought.
“Mommy!” The kids ran up and threw their arms around her legs. She knelt and hugged them the way she’d craved, and felt a lump grow in her throat again.
Don’t cry in front of the kids, she told herself. Stay strong for them—and for yourself, to face what’s coming.
Jo and Dani appeared in the doorway between the kitchen and the dining room, concern etched across their faces.
“Is Daddy okay?” Simon asked, the hazel eyes he’d inherited from his father wide with childish concern.
“He’s, um…” Dammit, she felt more tears dribbling down her cheeks. She pushed them away and tried to smile. “He wanted me to check on you. He says he loves you very much, and…and he’ll see you soon.”
Simon cocked his head as if considering something, before flashing her a bright smile. “Okay! I can’t wait to see him, too.”
He seemed awfully happy. Did he know his father was close to death? Why couldn’t he see it?
“Simon, Lydia, can you”—she glanced at the two adults still in the doorway and lowered her voice—“can you see what’s going to happen to Daddy? Or what I’m going to do?”
The twins looked at her and scrunched their faces, their young minds struggling to put into words things they weren’t old enough to understand.
“There are too many choo-choo tracks,” Simon said. “They cross all over each other.”
Lydia nodded her agreement with Simon’s assessment.
God, they sounded like Cassandra, speaking in riddles. What they meant, Val guessed, was there were too many possibilities. Maybe she had a caboose somewhere on all those train tracks. Max could probably analyze the situation and give her a detailed theory on what it all meant. All she could do was take action.
She hugged the twins tight. At least the absolute worst hadn’t come to pass yet. Her children were still safe.
Val pushed herself to her feet with unsteady legs. She might collapse on the kitchen floor if she didn’t get some sleep soon. “I need to lie down for a little bit,” she said to the kids, as well as Jo and Dani.
“Pumpkin…” Dani said as Val walked by, on her way up the stairs.
Val didn’t stop, or even look at her mother. Her brain had switched to autopilot while her body went numb. She trudged up the stairs and lay down on the bed, buried her head in Max’s pillow, and closed her eyes, letting the scent of him lull her into a fitful sleep.
* * *
She awoke with a start, shaken by nightmares she could only remember in vivid feelings of dread and hopelessness. She pushed herself up, touching moistness on the pillow—more tears, leaked out during her restless slumber.
Stop fucking crying, she admonished herself. Crying doesn’t help anyone. Crying is useless. Stop it already.
Stripping off her clothes, she stepped into the shower and got to work. After scrubbing her skin and hair clean, she began rubbing her clitoris. She needed to see how Eleanor would kill her if she was to prevent it from happening. She’d avoided her own death before; she could do it again. Under the hot, soapy water, she touched herself and thought of Max, of his strong yet gentle caress…but all she could see was his bruised and battered body in that hospital bed.
Come on, Val, concentrate.
She rubbed harder, this time imagining herself as the lead in a porno film, some anonymous woman being rammed by an anonymous man and loving every minute of it. She pretended to moan in ecstasy because it felt so good, and this professional sex machine was going to make her come so many, many times for the cameras…But Val felt nothing. The right nerves weren’t firing. The string that ran from between her legs and up her spine wasn’t vibrating.
It wasn’t working.
Fuck.
Val let out a primal scream of frustration and slammed her fists into the wall. Not only had Eleanor taken away her husband and sense of security, the woman had also taken away her best weapon.
Yanking hard on her wet hair, she forced herself to pull her shit together. Giving up was not an option. A gun and a knife were all she truly needed to face Eleanor. She’d play the rest by ear. There was absolutely no way Val would let that evil bitch get away again, no matter how much she knew Max would plead for her to run. Tonight, they’d see for sure if Eleanor’s God really loved her. Mother couldn’t help her this time.
Val slapped the shower faucet off and threw on a black hooded sweatshirt and a fresh pair of jeans, then jogged downstairs. Darkness through the windows told her evening had arrived; she’d slept through the entire morning and afternoon. She found Jo cleaning the table off post-dinner.
“I can stay longer if you’d like,” she said, though the circles around her eyes betrayed her exhaustion, and likely worry about her brother as well.
“Nah, I’ll be all right. I’ve got my mom, and bodyguards now. Go home and rest, and visit Max. Thanks for all your help, Jo. We couldn’t have gotten through the day without you.”
With a weary smile, Jo hugged Val, then Lydia and Simon. “Good night, kids. Be good for your mother and Nana.”
After she left, Val addressed her children. “I have to leave again, kiddos. I’m sorry, but it’s important.”
“It’s okay, Mommy,” Lydia said. “We understand.”
“I’ll be right back, though.” She teared up once more. “I will see you again.” God, she hoped it was true. It had to be true.
“Don’t be sad, Mommy,” Lydia said. “I’ll always love you. Daddy, too. If you love us, we’re never really gone. We’ll live forever.”
Max’s words from the memorial service.
“You’re not gone yet, honey,” Val said.
“I know,” Lydia replied with a cryptic smile. Not yet.
Her heart tightened, not wanting to leave her babies. But she had to finish this. They’d never be safe until she did. And Max would be avenged.
She kissed and hugged her children—not for the last time, dammit—and left them playing with LEGO blocks in the living room. After slipping a leather jacket over her hoodie, she walked into the kitchen. Dani stood up from where she sat at the table.
“Oh, pumpkin,” she said, and Val lost it. She burst into tears as her mother embraced her, bawling uncontrollably in the arms of the only person besides Max she had to confide in.
“He’s brain-dead,” Val cried, trying to keep her voice down so the kids wouldn’t hear.
“I’m so sorry,” Dani said as she stroked Val’s hair.
“What am I going to do without him? How am I supposed to go on? The children…I can’t do it by myself.”
“Yes you can. You’ll find a way. You’re my strong Valentine.”
She didn’t know about that, but she had no choice. The only way she could go was forward. Still, Dani’s words soothed her enough for her to pull herself together. Taking a deep breath, she lifted her head off her mother’s breast and swiped her tears away.
“Mom, I need to go take care of the person who killed Max.”
Dani’s eyes widened. “Take care of who?”
“Can you please watch the children?”
“Of course. But…what are you going to do?”
“If I don’t come back, please make sure the children are safe. Take them to Jo’s place, or Michael’s family. Those are the only people I trust—and you.”
A slight smile touched Dani’s lips and her eyes moistened. “Thank you. I’ll make sure the kids are okay. But please be careful. Whatever you’re going to do…come back alive, will you?”
“That’s the plan.” It was her only plan, really.
As Val walked away, Dani said, “I love you, pumpkin.”
Val stopped, then walked back to her mom and hugged her. “I love you, too.” Finally, the words felt true. She needed her mother. Maybe that had always been the case, but now Val was willing to admit it.
Her mother planted a sweet kiss on her scalp before she finally left. This was what she was fighting for—her mother, her husband, her children. Her family. Eleanor wouldn’t hurt them again, not while Val was still alive.
Either Eleanor would die tonight, or she would. Time to face her enemy—for the last time.
* * *
Though the sky is black, Christmas lights will nearly blind you. They hang off the awning of every booth and shop along the main route of the holiday festival. You will hurry through the crowd, as quickly as you can without running. The red raven is following you, coming for you. She’ll think she has the upper hand, but she does not. You are in control, and she is in your thrall. You’ll lead her into an apartment complex on the festival path, up the stairs, and onto the roof. You will face off with her there, a grand struggle for life and death. Know that I am on your side, as always. My eyes cannot be blinded, my wrath avoided, my will denied.
You will plunge a knife deep into her heart and know that I have made it so. It is the end. It is my will. It is destiny.