Page 4 of Cruel Legacy

I’m greeted by a stern-looking woman with her bun pulled so tight it’s pinching her eyes back and lifting her brows so she looks like a surprised cat

“Finally,” she says before I’m halfway up the steps.

Whatever nerves, doubt, or awe I was feeling evaporates in the face of her rudeness. “Excuse me?”

“We expected you four hours and seventeen minutes ago.”

“Uh, huh.” Who’s this bitch? I’ve seen a picture of my aunt. This isn’t her. “Are um, Moira and Scott here?”

“They are not. They were called away unexpectedly for a business meeting, but will return tomorrow to make sure you’re ready to begin classes. In the meantime, I’ve been tasked with getting you settled in for the evening, and as I said, we expected you hours ago. As it is, everyone has retired for the evening.” She frowns, “But I suppose I can get someone up to fix you dinner if you haven’t eaten.”

“I ate a few hours ago.”

She gives me a curt nod and says, “Then you should be fine until morning.” She turns and crosses the huge entry way, moving towards the stairs. I guess she senses I’m still rooted in place, because she says, “Come along. I’ll show you to your rooms. Please pay attention, so you don’t get lost and wander into any off-limit sections of the house.”

I close the door and follow after her. “Off limit?” I ask when I catch up with her on the stairs.

“That’s what I said.” She doesn’t offer any further explanation about it.

I listen as she points out wings and quadrants, but none of it makes any sense. Her pace quickens when we reach the third floor. She leads me down the hall towards a set of white French paneled doors which she unlocks with a silver key.

My mouth hinges open when I step across the threshold. I was expecting another hallway, but we’re standing in the middle of a large sitting room. I don’t have much time to take it all in, because we’re still on the move.

She opens another door that leads to the bedroom. She gives me a brief explanation about the individual temperature control for the thermostat, tells me I have direct access to the servant’s wing by dialing zero on the phone or tablet on the dresser, shoves the keys at me, and leaves.

Minutes pass and I’m still standing in the same spot, trying to figure out what the hell is actually happening. I’ve spent my whole life struggling for basic comforts, but my aunt and uncle live likethis?

Mrs. Sprout never actually explained how these people found me, or went into much detail about them. She assured me they were properly investigated and their relationship to me has been confirmed.

Scott is my mother’s cousin, but they grew up together like siblings, hence the aunt and uncle title. He told Mrs. Sprout my constant moves made it harder for them to track me down. If it weren’t for me finally getting my own place with utilities in my name, the PI would still be collecting a check.

I check my phone. Still no bars. Walking over to the sliding glass door that leads to the balcony doesn’t help. The first order of business is to find a new prepaid cell phone provider, because there’s no way in hell I’m staying here without a way to send an SOS to my best friend.

I built this day up in my head for weeks. Now that I’m here, I’m not sure what to do with myself. The adrenaline from the drive and my Red Bull is wearing off and my body is stiff from sitting for so many hours. A nice, hot shower should fix that.

I open the door to what old sour puss called a privateen suite, which I know is just a fancy name for bathroom. My mouth must have a loose hinge joint because it’s open.Again.This thing looks like a spa. A huge ass soaker tub sits in the middle of the floor.

The oil rubbed bronze fixtures match the faucets in the Jack and Jill sinks, and the four shower nozzles protruding from the walls in the walk-in shower which is big enough for three people. That’s in addition to the rain shower head suspended from the top of the ceiling. There’s a half frame tinted glass enclosure, a bench butts up against the glass. I can’t wait to test the heating capacity and endurance level of the hot water tank in this house.

I hurry back to the bedroom and fling open the door to the biggest closet I’ve ever seen. It’s as wide and as deep as the bedroom, with a sitting area in it, as well as a full-length mirror. It’s giving off serious dressing room vibes. I walk forward and turn left. Walk the length of the aisle, then turn right, like I would in a store. Dresses hang on the middle racks and there’s an entire wall of shoes on the farthest wall, a dresser on my right.

I open the top drawer and find it’s full of bras and panties. The next drawer has t-shirts, and the one below it, socks and pjs.

Seeing this stuff reminds me I didn’t see the boxes with the things I sent ahead. Whose room is this? From what I know, Scott and Moira never had kids, but that doesn’t mean there’s not another niece out there who uses this room when she comes to visit. I hear Sash’s voice in my head telling me not to overreact. My stuff has to be somewhere in this house, and they probably haven’t gotten around to getting these things cleared out. I walk back into the bedroom and fling my duffle bag onto the bed. I always carry two extra sets of everything with me, so I have a change of clothes and something to sleep in no matter where I go.

I grab my body wash and loofa and snag a towel from the warming rack on my way to the shower. The water heats quickly. I’m used to taking fast showers but tonight, I take advantage of not having to jump out before the water gets ice cold, or skipping the hair washing routine because there’s a line forming outside the bathroom door. There’s no line, and nobody’s waiting, so I wash and rinse everything twice, including my hair.

After I’m clean enough to be the guest of honor at a virgin sacrifice, I wrap the fluffiest towel I’ve ever felt around me, and stand in front of the bathroom mirror while I detangle my hair. I put it in two French braids and grab another towel to lay across the pillow to help soak up the last bit of water in my hair.

I slip on the basketball shorts and t-shirt I’m sleeping in, and climb onto the bed with a notebook in my hand to make a list of things I need to do before I move onto campus. I write the same thing twice before finally admitting I’m too tired to focus. I climb under the covers and close my eyes, my hand holding tight to the object I never leave home without, and let exhaustion win.

Chapter2

Pax

Imake my way through the trees and bushes to the meetup spot. I’m early, but I know the guys are already on their way. We never travel together for these things, to throw people off our trail, making it harder for us to be followed. Other groups don’t have the same philosophy. They think teamwork means doing everything together, every step of the way, even though I think we’ve proven to them ten times over it doesn’t.

As I approach the end of the shrub line, I spot a figure moving in the shadows on the right. That’ll be Holden. Wherever we go, we usually arrive within minutes of each other. Unless it’s the library. He’s there hours before anyone else, including the head librarian. I think she gave him a key and uses his early bird status to her advantage.

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