My Heart be Damned (27 page)

Time lost all meaning as half an hour went by and then an hour. A chill wind blew leaves up around me, but I didn’t feel it. I rocked back and forth slightly, just fixed on the words carved into her grave.

Jennifer Lynn Carter. My mother.

I looked down at the grass and tried to picture her coffin lying six feet below. Morbidly, I imagined what had become of her body - one of those thoughts I couldn’t control.

A rough gust of wind swept my hair up, tangling it around my face. Hairs on the back of my neck stood on end – just a side effect of being so close to the port of escape for Damned souls. It happened in every cemetery.

“I don’t want to do this,” I whispered, reaching out and tracing the numbers of her birth date. “I don’t want to be a Hunter anymore. I don’t want to end up here. Not yet. I don’t want to be attacked in my home. I don’t want to have to keep lying to people. To Dad. To Daniel.”

There was no answer. Of course, there was no answer.  Even though I knew I wouldn’t get a response of any kind from her, just talking about it made me feel better. Like somehow she could hear me.

“There’s this guy,” I whispered. I imagined her, sitting next to me.

She would have rolled her eyes with a small smile and said, “There’s always a guy.” She knew me better than I knew myself.

“And... I want to be with him. God, I want to be with him. He’s an absolute asshole, but strangely, I find it charming.”

I laughed to myself and shook my head. Now I was going insane too. “The ritual you died for and thought you stopped? Well, Seal is trying again. They need my blood and some Coat of
Tarham
thing to finish it, but all I want is to curl into a ball and not have to think about it ever again. Except, I can’t stop thinking about it because I want to know what you did to Seal – why he killed you. What I really want is to go on a date with Marshall and not talk fighting techniques and the best ways of stabbing someone. Most of all, I want you to come home.”

I buried my head behind my knees and stayed there for a moment. “Dad’s moved on, I guess. Her name is Cindy. She’s okay. Tries too hard.
Kinda
Stepford
, too. She’ll never be like you. But weirdly enough, she’s not trying to be you either.

“Dad thinks I’m being sullen like Daniel. Miserable. Moody. He doesn’t understand that I have to keep all these secrets from him. From all of them. He doesn’t understand that the reason I’m always out and always locked away in my room is that I’m trying to save the world. Can you believe it? Me trying to save the world.” I sighed. “And I think I’m going to fail, Mum.”

I stayed at the cemetery until the cold numbed every part of my body, reading parts of the diary aloud and
realizing
with every page that my life was no different to that of other Hunters. All this feeling sorry for myself had to stop. The Hunter from the diary had never thrown a tantrum and quit, and neither had my mother. This was it for us.

In it until the end.

After
apologizing
profusely to my mum’s gravestone for acting like a brat, I used my tip money to catch a cab home, falling asleep as soon as my head hit the pillow.

But I was in for the wrath of Dad when I woke up in the morning.

“Late night?” he asked as I stumbled into the kitchen.

I ignored him and yanked open the fridge, finding the orange juice. There was only a little bit left, so I swigged it from the carton.

“I’m worried about you,” Dad said. Frankly, I was surprised he’d noticed anything about my
behavior
. His newspaper crinkled, and when I turned around, he had folded it shut. “You’re never home. You don’t talk to me. You’re rude to Cindy. You don’t even try with Daniel anymore. This family is broken, and I’m trying very hard to fix it,
Amerie
.”

I wiped my mouth with the back of my hand. “I know,” I muttered. “I know it’s broken.”

“So help me fix it.”

I nodded, thinking of my visit to Mum’s grave. She’d want me to try. “Okay. Yeah, cool. Whatever you need.”

“I was thinking, maybe a nice family dinner tonight. We could go out. There’s a lovely Italian place, down the road, that I’ve had my eye on for a while now. Do you have work tonight?”

“No. Not tonight.” I opened the
breadbin
and grabbed the last two crumpets, slotting them into the toaster.

“This is good. It is better here. Don’t you agree?” Dad said. “We’re not living in a shit hole, and we’re going back to normal. If all goes well with my job, we might be able to move back to
Huddersfield
.”

I stared at him. Really stared at him. I knew I wasn’t looking too fresh today, but neither was he. Dark circles lined my father’s eyes, and he hadn’t shaved in what looked like a week. Maybe it had something to do with the empty bottle of wine and a stash of empty beer cans I’d seen littered around the sofa – where he’d passed out last night. His drinking hadn’t stopped. Not by a long shot. And if he thought drinking coffee was going to be his sobering cure for long, he was even more naive than I was.

My crumpets popped out, and I smothered butter on them before taking them downstairs into the conservatory. Daniel was in there playing something on his PlayStation. His shaved hair had grown out slightly, but unlike Dad’s, it wasn’t from being unkempt. More to do with him changing his look.

“I’m
diggin
’ the hair,” I said, ruffling it with my free hand.

He swatted my hand away and smiled. “Thanks. Jess likes it longer.”

“Jess?”

“New girlfriend.” He pounded on the keypad, swaying from side to side on the wicker sofa as if that would help. I sat next to him, wondering when this transformation with my brother had occurred. In all the saving the world madness, I’d neglected my own family.

“You wanna catch the Tube together?” I asked, munching on the last of my crumpet.

“Sure,” he said. “Let me just finish this fight up and... I’m done! Take that, punk!”

I laughed, his good mood infectious, and waited for him to finish packing his schoolbag, so we could leave together. We even shouted up a goodbye to Dad and Cindy. During our journey to school, we spoke about loads of stuff, and it was as if I had my brother back. Not that we were ever particularly close, but this was good. It was better. I hadn’t seen Daniel laugh as much in a year as he did during our hour of travelling, and he seemed completely smitten with this Jess girl.

When we finally reached school, I had a new outlook on my situation. I was always going to be a Hunter whether I liked it or not, and me not doing my job meant the world was a little bit more dangerous for my family. I owed it to them to Hunt again.

Chapter Twenty-Six

Choices

The last person I expected to see when I walked out of school that afternoon was Marshall. He’d parked up in the queue of parents, and scoped out the girls that walked past while he waited. Pig.

I walked over to the car and bent down, sticking my head through the open window. “Don’t you get enough dating opportunities at The Hut? Coming to pick up girls from my school is a new low. Even for you.”

He laughed, and leaned across the passenger seat, to push the door open. “I was waiting for you, actually.”

“I’ll walk thanks.”

“As much as I enjoy watching your ass as you walk away, I did come here for a reason.”

“And what reason would that be?” I demanded.

“Don’t think I’ve forgotten about the day out I owe you. I’ve finally thought of somewhere I’d like to take you. So, get in.”

I hesitated. On the one hand, I was ridiculously interested in where he planned to take me. But, on the other hand, it would look as though I’d been waiting, desperately, for this little outing if I climbed in all excited.

“Well?” he pressed. “You’re not getting any younger or prettier standing there. And I’m cold.”

I sighed and climbed in, fastening my seatbelt. “Fine. But this better be good.”

He grinned and pulled out of the line of cars, cutting someone off in the process. I slid down into my seat as he stuck his hand out of the window in a rude gesture. That was probably somebody’s mum he had just done that to. Nice.

“How was school?” he asked.

“Why do you sound
patronizing
when you say that? It’s like you’re trying to remind me that I’m younger than you rather than sounding like you’re taking an interest.”

He shrugged. “You’re clearly quite paranoid. Not my problem how you take it.”

I ignored him and turned to stare out of the window.

“Any luck on the research?” he asked, turning down the stereo slightly.

“If I had any luck, you would be the first to know,” I said.

“Wow. What’s up with you?”

“Nothing.”

“I really didn’t have you pegged as one of those hormonal girls, you know. Obviously, I read you wrong.”

“Obviously,” I snapped.

He let out a long breath and turned the stereo back up. I turned to
apologize
, but he was singing along to the song playing, unfazed. I didn’t know why I thought taking out my frustrations on him was going to help. “Where’re we going?” I asked once the song was over.

“Brighton.”

“Brighton! That’s going to take ages to get to!”

He raised an eyebrow at me. “Frankly, I’m a little insulted that you don’t trust my driving. I’ll get us there quickly. Don’t you worry your pretty little head about it.”

“If you say so,” I said, smiling at him.

Marshall hadn’t been exaggerating. He drove so fast that we ended up getting to Brighton in record time. The sun had just begun to set, painting the sea in a beautiful array of
colors
. He swung the Honda into a tight gap on the pier, grabbed his leather jacket off the backseat, and gestured for me to get out.

We walked up the pier in a comfortable silence. Our hands kept swinging past each other, our skin brushed briefly. I wondered if he could feel the same sparks that I did when we touched. Brighton pier had an all year fair that was beautifully lit and an extremely popular place for weekend trips, if you could afford the train ride. My mum had brought Daniel and me here once, a very long time ago. We’d had one of the best times of our lives.

The first part of the fair was the amusement arcade. By the look on Marshall’s face, this was like heaven for him. His eyes fell on a change machine, and I followed him over to it, watching as he loaded note after note.

“I’m putting your skills to the test,” he said, spotting my look of surprise. “What better way to test your hand-eye coordination than on amusements?”

My face fell. “So we’re here to train?"

“Yes and no.” He shoved the handfuls of change into his pockets and turned to find our first game. “Two in one, really. Thought we could come here, have some fun and train you in the meanwhile.”

I tried to hide my disappointment by making it into a competition. If he wanted me to learn, then he would see, exactly, what I was capable of doing. I stared around the arcade, spotting couples everywhere I looked. Stupid couples.

“How about that?” I asked, pointing over at a stand in the corner. It was one of those rigged tasks where you had two balls to knock down three stacked pins. There were always weights in the bottom of the pins, but with the right aim and strength, it was easy.

He laughed. “Okay. Care to make a wager?”

“What is it with you and wagers?” I said, following him towards it.

“Whoever can throw the most impressive ball wins.”

“And who judges that?”

He handed the vendor enough money for both of us. “The vendor of course,” he said, winking at me.

I took the two balls and waited for him to go first to see what I was up against. He stepped back just a few paces and then swung his arm around again and again, jumped in the air and spun in a neat circle, throwing the ball at the same time. It soared through the air and knocked all three pins down, bounced off the wall and rebounded into my own stash of pins, knocking all of them down too. My mouth dropped as the vendor applauded, clearly impressed.

“Wait...wait a minute,” I said, gulping. “What do you get if you win?”

He grinned cheekily. “A kiss.” He paused while I internally freaked out happily at the thought of kissing him. “I’m only kidding,” he backtracked. “I get five questions, and you have to answer them all honestly. Deal?”

The disappointment was bitter, but I nodded anyway. “Okay and the same for me if I win.”

“If,” he repeated.

I rolled my eyes and backed up away from the stand. The vendor finished fixing the pins and stood back, his face expectant. I kept backing up until I was at least twenty feet away. I could do this. I could win. I sucked in a deep breath and ran, vaulting into a cartwheel, spinning once I was in the air, into a flip, which I did a few times before dropping to one knee and throwing the ball right at the pins. The ball knocked them all down, bounced off the back wall and slammed into Marshall’s head, ricocheting off towards the next set of pins and knocking those down too. Bull’s-eye.

“Ouch!” Marshall complained, rubbing his forehead. “What is with you and the cheap shots recently?”

I shrugged. “Gotta get the upper hand somehow.”

He frowned and turned to the shocked vendor. “Okay. Which one of us impressed you more? And please don’t say her.”

The vendor shrugged. “Sorry,” he said in an accent that I couldn’t work out. “That was some funny stuff,” he said, pointing at me. “She wins.”

“Yay!” I jumped in the air a few times, fist pumping, making sure to rub it in his face as much as possible.

“Okay, okay. We still have lots more games and loads of opportunities for me to win my five questions. Come on.”

He turned and led the way to a row of pool tables. I stopped and gave him a dirty look. Of course, he would pick something he was good at doing. He hustled people for money on a regular basis with his stupid pool skills.

I let out a deep breath, and turned to look for something else for us to do. I spotted a fortuneteller’s tent in the corner of the dome, yanked on Marshall’s sleeve, and gestured over to it.

“What?”

“Let’s go get our future read,” I said.

He snorted. “No thanks.”

“Why? She might be one of the real ones. A prophet. I’ve never met a real one before. I’d love to know what they’d tell me.”

Marshall shifted so that he was standing between the tent and me. “Trust me, they’re more about the money than the truth.” He looked more than a little uncomfortable, his shoulders squared, his jaws tense.

“What? No, they’re not. My mum used to tell me about one she knew.”

“
Amerie
, we’re not here to be conned by fortune tellers, okay?”

“Okay. Gosh. It was just a suggestion. I don’t know why you’re so against even trying to find out if it’s real or not.”

“There’s no point.” He shook his head and led me back to the pool tables. “Now, where were we?”

I couldn’t understand why Marshall was being so weird about the fortuneteller, but I didn’t want to risk ruining our night by souring the mood. So, I let it go.

“You’re an incredibly sore loser,” I pointed out.

“What? Why?” He shrugged out of his coat and laid it on one of the metal stools by the pool table.

“You know I don’t play billiards.”

“Don’t or can’t?”

“Both.”

“Then I’ll teach you,” he said. He grabbed two cues and chalked the ends before handing me one. Slipping a coin into the side of the table, he waited for all the balls to slide out and then set them up in some kind of order within a triangular shaped thing.

“Okay,” Marshall said, seemingly satisfied with his obsessive sorting. “I’ll break.” Then he launched into an exceedingly boring explanation of the rules. It went in one ear and right back out the other.

“I don’t even know how to hold this stupid thing,” I said, waving the cue around and nearly hitting a girl walking behind me.

Marshall laughed and gently pulled the triangle rack away from the balls. Then he took the cue ball, went around to the opposite end of the table, and
plonked
it down on a little blue dot. With a masterful flick of his wrist, he hit the cue ball powerfully and it knocked into the other balls, sending them all ricocheting off at all angles. Three of them rolled straight into different holes.

He peered down at the side where the balls were rolling into a glass holder. “I’m stripes then. And as I potted a ball, I get another shot.”

“You sound like you’re making this up,” I said, leaning on my cue.

“I’m not. And mind how you treat the equipment. It has feelings you know.” He hit the white ball into another spotted ball, but it missed the hole he was aiming for. I had a funny feeling that he had purposely missed, giving me a chance.

“My turn?”

He nodded. “Try not to hit one of my balls, because then I get two shots.”

I rolled my eyes, and looked about for a striped ball to aim for. “Is there anything you don’t get two shots for?”

“Winning your trust.”

He said it at the same time that I’d clumsily moved my cue. I jerked up, the cue hitting the white ball roughly and sent it flying off the table, so it rolled across the floor. Marshall ran after it, and left me, reeling. Why did he say that?

He jogged back, put the white ball back on the blue dot, and smiled
patronizingly
at me. “We won’t count that.”

“Gee, thanks.”

“Here,” he said, moving me to stand in front of him. “I’ll help you with your first shot. You’re a fast learner. You should be able to get the hang of it from that.”