Copyright 2014 Wanda Lotus.
Part 9
I sent Prince back to New York City with strict instructions to stay out of Central New York or risk my wrath, then I contacted the other elders so they could handle him accordingly when he got back home. Three weeks passed, and I didn’t see Kacela, not even at the grocery store. If she was on her shift when I entered the store, she made herself scarce as soon as she picked up on my presence. She had completely recovered from her grounding and knew I didn’t intend to kill her, so her avoidance had to have been embarrassment, not fear.
One afternoon I turned up my street and sensed her. The closer I got to my house, the stronger her signature got. “Bloody hell. If that troublemaker is sitting on my porch…”
She was perched on the top step waiting for me.
I left my car in the driveway and marched to the foot of my steps. “Get the fuck off my porch.”
“Hi to you, too.” She was subdued and wouldn’t meet my eyes. Instead, she picked at a loose thread in the frayed knee of her jeans.
“You arrogant, intrusive asshole. How did you find my house?”
“Like you said when we met, Liverpool is a small town. It wasn’t hard.”
“Get off my fucking porch, and if I ever see your ass on my fucking street again…”
“Don’t swear at me…please.”
“Oh, so you fucking try to kill me, and you expect me to be polite? You can do shit like attempt to murder someone in cold blood, but a few fucking swear words rattle you?”
I felt her bristle, but she didn’t flare at me. She just kept picking at the hole in her jeans. “Awhile back you asked how my mother died,” she murmured.
“At this point I don’t care how she died.” I sensed her sincerity, but I was too angry. I had no intention of opening myself up to her a second time, only to be betrayed by her overactive imagination and victim complex.
She continued as though I hadn’t spoken. “She never wanted me. She made it her business to tell me every day, in the most colorful language possible, that she never wanted me. I thought my name was ‘bastard’ until I was three.” She winced at the memory. “She thought it was hilarious that my first complete sentence was, ‘Get your fucking hands off me.’ By the time I was seven, I had figured out what I could do to people. But I never used my power on her. Instead, I used it to protect her whenever her boyfriend tried to slap her around. I’d secretly drain a little energy off of him, just enough so he couldn’t hurt her. The last time he did it, I drained him to the point his body was only recognizable by dental records. Mom beat me up for what I did to him. After that, she switched to calling me ‘monster’. I was ten.”
I sat down next to her. This poor kid had been through hell and back before she reached puberty. No wonder she had trust issues. I didn’t want to feel anything but anger towards her, but compassion flooded my heart before I could get my emotional shields up.
“So how did she die?” I could figure it out, but I wanted her to tell me. It felt as though she needed to talk.
This time her voice was little more than a whisper. “When I was twelve something in me snapped while she was beating me up. That was her favorite thing to do, besides cursing at me.” She looked at me, her eyes shining. “I looked into her eyes and watched the life drain from them. I held on until her skin began to shrivel and smoke. I wanted to make sure she would never hurt me again. As much as I had cried because of her, I made up my mind I would never cry because of her again, and I haven’t.”
I reached over and gently wiped the tears from her cheeks with my fingertips. “Until now?”
She hadn’t realized her face was wet. Her temper flared when I called her attention to it. Just as quickly her face crumpled and she began to cry in earnest. I scooted closer and wrapped both arms around her. She resisted for only a moment, then she relaxed into me. She sobbed for probably a full five minutes before all of her bottled-up emotions were released.
“I have no idea why I told you all of that.” She sniffled. “Some of your softness must be rubbing off on me.” She stiffened, afraid she had offended me. “Wait, I didn’t mean…”
I squeezed her. “It’s okay. I know sarcasm when I hear it. So that’s why you don’t like being cursed at and usually don’t swear?” It dawned on me that when she was raging at me in that clearing she hadn’t uttered a single swear word. Those had all been directed at Prince.
“Yeah. It’s triggering.”
“Then I’ll try to remember not to, okay?”
“Thanks.”
We sat in silence, her head on my shoulder, and watched a few cars go by. “Kacela, what are you doing here, anyway? You’ve been avoiding me like the plague. Why would you want to show up at my house?”
“To apologize.” She sighed. “You could have killed me. You should have, and you didn’t. That’s the second time you saved my life. If I didn’t know better, I’d think you like me.” Some of the sass was back in her voice, and she smiled as she nudged me with her shoulder. “Why didn’t you kill me when you had the chance?”
“I don’t take pleasure in murder.”
“Have you ever killed anyone?” I raised an eyebrow at her in response. She looked away. “Stupid question. Never mind.”
I patted her back and let go of her far more reluctantly than I cared to think about at that moment. “I kill when it’s necessary, and only when it’s necessary. Killing you that night wasn’t necessary.” I smiled. “And I’ll be honest with you. I do like you, a lot more than is wise, considering your deadly temper. But I can’t trust someone I’d have to always be on guard against.”
“What if I learned to control my temper?”
I chuckled. “Okay, first, I’ll believe that when I see it.” She giggled, though she looked ashamed of herself. “Second, why does it matter to you whether I trust you?”
“Because anyone who has the power to kill me and chooses not to, even when I deserve it, is someone…I can learn a lot from.” She hung her head. I could tell those last few words hurt her ego. “I’ve killed people for far less than what I did to you. I’ve been thinking about the things you’ve said to me and how you’ve treated me. You’re right: there’s a lot I don’t know. If you weren’t as powerful as you are, I could have killed the one person who’s ever been unconditionally good to me.” I felt the longing in her before she lifted her face to look into mine. “I know I screwed up, big time. I like you a lot, too, but I don’t blame you for not trusting me. If I were you, I wouldn’t trust me, either. You don’t have to be my friend. But I really, really could use a mentor.”
I knew I was going to say yes; there was no way I couldn’t. She was completely sincere and humbled. The stark difference compared to her normal bravado was almost scary. I could see the hurt little kid she had been looking out at me through her eyes. I closed mine, knowing my heart was showing and not liking that fact at all.
“Please, Mya?”
I sighed and nodded, then felt her wrap both arms around me and squeeze. “Thank you.”
That’s how we ended up becoming friends two years ago. The electricity between us was so strong, it was only a matter of time before we became lovers. A few months after our conversation on my porch, that devil showed up at my house in the same outfit she had worn to the club the night we ran into Prince. Suffice it to say the blouse didn’t survive her visit. She says she sacrificed it for a good cause. I’m happy to allow her to think that.
Just as I suspected when I first started getting to know her, she’s not a cold-blooded killer. She just needed a good therapist and gentle guidance from a friend she could trust not to abuse her. My restraint in the face of her rage impressed her so much that it didn’t take more than a month or two for her to learn how to control her temper, though I ended up grounding her a couple more times before she finally learned not to fly off the handle at me. It took a lot longer for her to learn to make healthy choices about what kind of company to keep. Once in a while her poor choices would mean she’d find herself fighting off a bad egg. That means things can end up deadly for the other person. When that happens and I’m not around to intervene, she runs to me for help hiding the evidence. That’s where the digging comes in. Thank goodness we live not far from acres of wild forests. Besides providing a place to dispose of things, their wildlife keeps Kacela well fed. I drive us to the mountains, park the car, and settle down to read or write for a few hours. She goes to do her thing and comes back glowing from a successful hunt. The exercise and fresh air do wonders for her libido, too. We usually fog up the windows before heading home.
By the way, her flinging the orb at me as I headed out the door wasn’t an attack. It’s a game between us. From time to time she’ll try to catch me off guard, and I’ll remind her she can’t. She likes to live on the edge and needs more excitement than Central New York can provide. My capturing her in her own orb was a little more excitement than she was bargaining for that day, though. She hasn’t done it, since. I hated to scare her, but any animal trainer will tell you it’s important to assert your authority and never totally let down your guard. No matter how well-behaved, a wild animal is never truly tame.
Truth be told, I don’t think I’d want her to be.
<- Part 8