Page 29 of In the Dark

CHAPTER 9

That was the way of disaster. Swift, out of the shadows, when least expected.

The three girls let themselves out of the room. For Karsia, her sadness warred with frustration. She felt completely lost. Stomping down the stairs, she made her way into the kitchen as wrath pounded in her chest with the force of a hammer.

Elon and Morgan were congregated around the center island. One stood with a teapot in his hand, while the other grasped his cup in preparation. Both turned to look at her when she entered, different ends of the spectrum making the best of a bad situation. Elon, with his wavy dark hair and boyish blue eyes. Morgan, distinguished and older, taller, thinner. Both men had been thrown into something beyond their control and forced to tread water.

“We’re on our third pot of tea and getting to know each other. Any change?” Morgan asked her. “I’m sorry about your mother, by the way. Truly sorry. I hope she pulls through.”

“I’m glad to see you two are getting chummy. It seems oddly fitting.” She grimaced and closed her eyes, catching a glimpse of herself, her old self.

That Karsia knew her mother was in trouble, realized she should have been able to help but could not, nearly brought her to her knees. A cry caught in her throat and she clawed at the fake heart in her chest.

Morgan moved instantly to gather her into his arms.

“Let go of me,” she said, her tone sharp but the plea halfhearted. Though no tears came she felt the sting of them aching to burst out and grant her relief. Shock, pure and simple, had her gasping to fill her lungs with air. “This is stupid. I shouldn’t be crying like this. Evil doesn’t bawl like a baby.”

“No, but you do. And you’re not evil.”

Elon continued to line up the porcelain cups and distribute the brewed beverage. He kept any comments to himself, his personal grief unvoiced.

“I know if there was a way for you to fight this, you would be in there healing her with everything in your power,” Morgan murmured against her ear.

“But I’m not, Morgan. I’m not in there and I’m not healing her because I can’t do it. This thing inside of me won’t let me help my own mother.” Karsia shook, afraid to give voice to the terrible things her mind already knew. “It was no accident. Someone hit her on purpose.”

She recognized now why she’d been drawn back here in the first place. There were forces at work beyond the original players in their story.

“My mother could die. And it’s my fault,” she said it for impact, watching Elon wince at the words.

“Try not to think about it. Try to think about anything else. Your thoughts have energy, and if you give in to your fatalism, you put it out there in the universe. Never forget your own strength, little witch,” Morgan said soothingly. He rubbed up and down her back and pushed his exhaustion aside. “Being harsh won’t help.”

“Yeah, it’s a little hard to think about anything else, no matter how harsh it sounds.” Karsia pushed him away and crossed to the stools positioned at the island.

She remembered the moment when Varvara decided to redo the kitchen. Every few years she got a bug in her bonnet and chose a room at random to rip down to the studs. Thorvald would give her anything she wanted, in the end, despite protesting that none of the renovations were necessary. He complained loudly each time she went crazy with her new ideas about decorating, but he was always secretly pleased with the results. For the kitchen, she’d gone for French countryside with quaint modern twists.

Karsia ran the heel of her hand along the stools, soft linen upholstery and brass nail heads completing their look. She’d been there the day they arrived at the house. Watched Varvara rip into them with a delight rarely seen in adults.

The kitchen was large and eat-in, with a quaint round table and six chairs ringing the outside. Although her mother cleaned once in a blue moon and rarely made much use of the double wall ovens, Karsia knew the kitchen had been the heart of the home. A gathering place where they could come and relax. Enjoy a cup of coffee or a piece of chocolate from the community bowl on the countertop.

Her heart hitched when she realized she might never see her mother there again.

She let her fist fall on the marble countertop. The stone cracked. “Elon, so help me God, slide one of those teas over before I lose my damn mind.”

Elon had two cups at the ready. The porcelain screeched until it came to rest inches from her waiting palm. “For what it’s worth,” he told her softly, “I’m sorry. I know we haven’t had a chance to get to know each other, and I’m sure you’re worried about me and what I am, but I’ll never betray you or your family. I love your sister.”

“Yeah, that’s what they tell me.” Karsia gulped the entire cup and felt the burn down to her gut. Searing liquid singed her taste buds though she cared little for the pain. “Every single one of them.”

He and Morgan gathered around her with the false sympathy of those who had nothing else to say except sorry. It made her sick to her stomach.

She gripped the edge of the island and exchanged a long, hard look with both Elon and Morgan in turn. “Look, I’d love to stay and chat but I have a sneaking suspicion that things are going to go downhill from here. I really need to go or else I’m going to hurt someone.”

Destroy. Kill.

Echoes of pain and fury sounded inside of her, aching to burst through her fingertips in raw, unadulterated force. She had no desire to stop them.

“You need to be with your family.” Morgan lifted a brow and moved a hairsbreadth closer to her. “Anything you throw out, we can handle, as long as we’re together.”

She pushed at him. “Who the hell are you to say that? You’re not part of this. We’re not together in anything.”

---