Page 117 of Summoned
My father’s shoulders stiffen. His gaze drops to the blade, then slowly lifts to my face. “Don’t be ridiculous, Nicole…” Tension thins his voice.
He’s only a meter from the blade. One quick motion from me, and it would be buried in his gut. A little higher, and it would pierce his heart. He’d glance down in panic, grab at the handle as he collapses to the floor. I wouldn’t stop. I’d press the blade deeper with the full weight of my body—I’ve done it before—and I’d keep pressing until the last trace of life left him. I already smell the blood that would flood the hallway, spilling across the floor.
He edges toward me, then stops. His eyes follow the knife.That’s right, Dad. Come a little closer.
Daria rushes past him and heads into the kitchen. “I’m calling the police.”
For a split second, panic flashes over my father’s face. “Don’t be stupid. You have no idea what you’re getting yourself into.”
“I see a man who’s forced his way into my home, attacked his daughter, and shoved me against a wall. That, Mr.Vrachev, is more than enough. And if the police don’t take this seriously, I’m sure the media will. Especially after”—behind me, a familiar clicking sound—“I show them this picture of you.”
My father’s lips part, then press together again. His gaze shifts from Daria to me and the knife. And all of a sudden, he’s no longer the dominant man I invariably submit to. He’s a man.Justa man, losing his footing.
Not so pleasant, is it, Dad?
“Say goodbye to all your comforts,” he hisses.
Then he turns without saying another word, his movements sharp and stiff, just like they always are when he feels he’s lost control. He storms out, and the door closes behind him with a haunting stillness. I stare at the closed door, listening to the silence that follows. For the first time in my life, he backed down. Not because someone stood between us. Not because Gaetano told me to. It wasn’t rage or desperation. It was me, finally standing my ground. And for the first time…I won.
“Oh, my God!” Daria throws her arms around me. “Your father…he’s changed so much over the years.”
He’s always been like this, I tell myself.But I was too young to see it. And he wasn’t yet rich or powerful enough to show his true face to the world.
“I still think we need to call the police,” Daria says.
“Don’t. He won’t come back.”Because if he does, I will kill him.
I set the blade down and scan the room. Gaetano is not here, though I sensed his presence as soon as my father grabbed my arm. For a moment, I thought he would interfere, but he didn’t, and I’m thankful for that.
And as much as I want to be angry that he’s watching me from the shadows again, I can’t shake the feeling that his words gave me the courage I’ve always needed to standup to my father.
Daria clears her throat, drawing my attention again. “By the way, where the hell did you get that knife?”
* * *
The hours after my father’s departure drag on. I was about to leave Daria’s apartment and stop causing her trouble, but she insisted I stay. Said her home was mine, too. Then she had to go,teaching a yoga class at a studio two blocks away.
Which is how I find myself alone, drumming my fingers on the coffee table in front of the couch, and bouncing my leg underneath. Thoughts rush through my mind.
My gaze lands on Daria’s phone. She left it, saying, “Just in case. Phones aren’t allowed during class, anyway!”
I open the contact list and scroll through it until I find the name I’m looking for.Julieta Fortune-teller. I press “call.” The line rings several times before a raspy, irritated voice answers, “What?”
I’m not even sure what I’m hoping to get from this conversation. “Hello. This is Nicole. My friend Daria and I came to see you…about a witcher. You gave me a knife and—”
“I knew you’d call. My Tarot reading revealed the Death card in reverse.”
I grip the phone tighter, a chill crawling down my spine. “What does that mean?”
“Whatever it is, it’s not good.”
My stomach knots with equal parts fear and anticipation. “Actually, I’m calling to ask you something…”
“If the knife didn’t work, then you’re not dealing with awitcher. Whatever’s after you, it’s alreadyinsideyou. I want nothing to do with it.”
“You said you had a relationship with a witcher…”
“Damned devil-spawn! Stole my youth!” she spits, her voice crackling through the speaker.
