My Heart be Damned (28 page)

He bent over me, so that my backside pressed against him, and probably in his private area too. I couldn’t stay focused enough to hear what he said. Something about envisioning the route of the ball or something. I sucked in a deep breath as his hand clasped around mine and his other hand repositioned my fingers wrapped around the front of the cue. Then with his left hand, he pulled back, bringing the cue backwards, and then swung forward, hitting the white ball. It hit a solid ball and sent two into the same pocket. Then he let go, and stepped back, and everything was wrong when I wasn’t in his arms.

“Get it?”

“Huh?”

He frowned. “Were you even listening?”

I turned to face him, hoping my cheeks weren’t bright red. “Pool really isn’t my game. Let’s just say you won and do something else. You get five questions. Okay?”

He shrugged. “If you want. I mean, this is your night so if you don’t wanna play, I won’t force you.”

“Thanks. Can we hit the rides?”

A smile spread across his face. “Sure.”

We spent the next few hours riding every ride we could squeeze in. The fair sold wristbands that allowed you to ride any ride an unlimited amount of times – if you could bring yourself to wait in line. My
favorite
was when we strapped into a huge plastic ball, and shot up into the air. Even better, when Marshall screamed like a little girl beside me while I laughed manically.

It was after we stumbled off it for the third time that we decided to quit on the rides and get something to eat, in the hopes it would settle our stomachs. Marshall decided on Chinese since he’d be paying, and I happily followed. We left the fair behind us as we crossed the pier to a row of shops opposite. Marshall seemed to know where he was going, and I wondered if he did this in his infinite amounts of spare time – explored other towns and cities for prospective date locations.

“Table for two?” the server asked.

Marshall nodded. “Yes, please.”

She led us to a table right at the back. The lighting was dim, but we were right by the buffet bar. The walls, painted a dark red, matched the silk tablecloths exactly. A soothing oriental song played in the background, and I was
taken instantly
with the beautiful flowers dotted all around the room.

“Nice, isn’t it?” Marshall said when he spotted me, gawking around like a tourist.

I nodded and slid onto the seat opposite him. The waitress wore a traditional Chinese outfit, her black hair tied back into an elegant bun. I wished I would look anywhere near as graceful.

“Would you like the buffet or to order from the menu?” she asked softly.

“We’ll go for the buffet. Thanks,” Marshall answered.

She nodded once and disappeared for a brief moment, only to bring two plates back. We took them gratefully and headed straight up to the buffet. I had never seen such a vast array of Chinese food before. All my
favourites
were there, along with things I had never tried before. I piled my plate high, not caring if I looked like a greedy pig in front of Marshall. His helping was double the size of mine anyway.

“Ever used chopsticks before?” He picked up a packet on the table and tore the top off. I picked up my own ones warily.

“Nope. But how hard can it be?”

He laughed and expertly began digging into his food with the chopsticks. I watched him, trying to work it out by observation alone. The way his fingers curled around the long sticks didn’t look too complicated. I imitated him, reaching down to pick up a chicken ball, and then totally missed, flicking rice at Marshall instead.

He choked on his food, and leaned back in his seat, trying to hold in his laughter. I narrowed my eyes and tried again. This time I managed to pick up the chicken, but I couldn’t work out how to position the thing into my mouth. In the end, it fell out of the chopsticks and rolled onto the floor.

“You’re hopeless,” Marshall said through laughter. “Stick to a fork. If you can handle it, that is.”

“Ha. Ha. You’re so very funny.”

“
Here.
” He set down his own chopsticks. His hands reached over to position my fingers around the chopsticks properly. Then he guided them down to pick up some noodles, and brought it back up to my mouth. I wasn’t expecting him to let go, and when he did, my grip loosened, and the noodles slid onto my lap. I groaned, slammed the sticks down, and picked up a fork.

“Don’t we owe each other some questions?” Marshall asked once he’d finally stopped laughing.

I nodded, mouth full of noodles
─
which I
’
d used a fork to get there.
“
You can go first.
”

“Okay.” He swallowed the food in his mouth. “But I want them to be quick fire questions. So you say the first thing that comes into your head. No thinking about it. No choosing how to word your answer. Got it?”

I chewed on a chicken ball, contemplating his stipulations. “Fine.”

“What’s more important to you: saving the world, or getting revenge?”

“Saving the world.”

“Would you give your life for someone you loved?”

“Without a doubt.”

“Brain or muscle?”

“Both.”

He raised an eyebrow. “You can’t choose both. You have to choose one.”

“Brain, then. I have enough muscle for the both of us.”

“Very true. Okay...would you kiss me back if I kissed you first?”

I hesitated.

“No hesitating!” he reminded me, leaning forward eagerly.

“Okay, yes. Yes, I would.”

He smirked and popped a chicken ball into his mouth. “Last question. Do you trust me?”

“No,” I answered without thinking. I slapped my hand over my mouth as his face crumpled. “I mean yes! I do trust you.”

He shook his head, staring down at his half-finished plate of food. His shoulders had sagged somewhat. Did he truly care that much about me trusting him? “Your turn to ask questions,” he muttered.

“Marshall, I do trust you,” I said, reaching out to put my hand over his. He slowly withdrew his hand out from under mine.

“Subconsciously, you don’t. Trust your instincts if you believe them,
Amerie
. They’ve got you this far.”

“They led me to you,” I countered. “I don’t know why I said no, because I do.”

He looked up and plastered on a huge, fake smile. I wondered whether he wanted it to look fake, or he was just that bad of an actor. “No worries. I’ll just have to work harder.”

I went along with it. “If that’s what you want.”

“Ask me your questions.”

I mentally reviewed his questions and decided to throw some of them back at him.

“Have you really quit cage fighting?”

“Yes.”

“Would you give up your life for someone you loved?”

“Yes.”

“Blondes or brunettes?”

He reached across the table and hooked a lock of my hair around his finger. “Definitely brunettes. There’s something about brown hair that just drives me crazy in bed.”

I rolled my eyes. “Would you kiss me if I kissed you first?”

“In a heartbeat.”

Trying not to blush, I asked him my last question. “Do you trust me?”

“With my life.”

An awkward silence fell over us as we both registered his answers properly. At least one of them had to be a lie. I’d tried to kiss him, and he’d pushed me away. So, he wouldn’t kiss me back. Lie. That or something had changed in the way he felt about me…

And he trusted me with his life? I stared down at my food, not feeling so hungry anymore. In fact, all I wanted to do was go home. This fake date just made me feel even more confused
that
before.

Marshall started up a flimsy conversation about a TV show we both liked, and by the time he’d devoured his plate of food, we were having a light-hearted debate about the co-dependent relationship Sam and Dean Winchester had in Supernatural. It carried on all the way back home and only stopped once Marshall had parked his Honda outside of Cindy’s house. I glanced at the time. Almost ten in the evening and all the lights were still on. Strange.

“I hope you had some fun,” Marshall said, leaning towards me. “Are we still stuck in a rut?”

“Nah, I think we’re okay.” I grabbed my school bag from the backseat. “Thanks for taking me out. You didn’t have to.”

“You won it, fair and square.”

I paused, my hand closed around the door handle. “Is that the only reason you took me out? Because I won it in a fight?”

He shrugged. “Does it really matter?”

“To me, yeah.”

He sighed and leaned his head back against the seat. “It started off that way, but I really enjoyed myself. You’re not too bad to hang around with.”

If he thought that was a compliment, he was seriously wrong. I snapped a goodbye at him, threw open the door and stormed into my house, slamming the front door behind me like an immature child. He absolutely drove me crazy.

“
Amerie
?” Dad barked.

“Yeah, Dad.”

“Come upstairs, please.”

I sighed and kicked off my shoes, leaving them at the bottom of the stairs. Dad and Cindy were curled up on the sofa in the living room. The fake fireplace blazed, and they, each, had a glass of wine in their hands. Despite the
cozy
setting they had going on, neither looked happy.

“Sit down,” Dad snapped, pointing to the armchair.

Confused, I did as they told me. They were both glaring at me. Feeling uncomfortable, I looked down at my clasped hands.

“Where have you been?” he asked.

“I was out with Mercy.” My tone took on a hard edge. What was it to him? I wasn’t demanding to know how much alcohol he’d drunk this evening.

“We called Mercy,” Cindy jumped in. “She said she hadn’t seen you since you left school. Look, no one is here to be your enemy,
Amerie
. We just want you to talk to us.”

“What is the big problem? So I went out. Big deal! You never usually act like this, Dad. My hanging out with my friends isn’t the problem with this family.”

“No, you, ditching family dinners, is the problem with this family,” he snapped.

I opened my mouth to argue and then closed it. My brain whirled back to this morning’s conversation. Dinner. Crap. He was right. He’d made plans for a family dinner tonight and I’d totally forgotten. All because Marshall had come up with a better offer. I dipped my head, ashamed.

“What do you have to say for yourself?” he demanded.

I shrugged. “I’m sorry. I don’t know what else to say. I completely forgot and...”

“And you’re grounded,” he said firmly. “No ifs. No buts. Grounded. You can go to work. You can keep your phone, though I don’t see why you bother having one when you don’t even answer it.”

I thought of my phone buried someone in the depths of my bag, still on silent from school. But being grounded? For missing one dinner? A little harsh.

“Come on, Dad. I’m sorry! Please don’t ground me.”

He shook his head and turned his attention to the fire. “Go to your room. Discussion’s done. Maybe now that you’re grounded, you might find some time for your family.”

I jumped to my feet, my fists clenched at my sides. “You call this a family? We couldn’t be further apart if we tried, and don’t you dare put the blame on me. Because I’m the one, who kept what was left of this family together all year. Now I want to finally act like a teenager and go out and have fun, and it’s not allowed? Family first, you say? Family first! Where were you during all of our family time this past year? Oh, that’s right. Getting drunk, passing out on the sofa, and forgetting to go to work.” I paused, chest heaving. “So, don’t you tell me that I don’t put this family first. I put it first a
helluva
lot more than you did.”

I ran out of the room, ignoring his and Cindy’s shouts. How dare he? If only he knew, what I was sacrificing to make sure this stupid world wasn’t ruined. I stormed into my room and slammed the door shut behind me. There was no way in hell he could ground me. Even physically holding me down wouldn’t keep me in this godforsaken place.

I roughly swapped my school uniform for some jeans and a thick hoodie, marched across the room and climbed out of the window. I’d think about coming back here when I was in a better mood. Until then, off to the cemetery I went.

Chapter Twenty-Six

Revelations

I was late for school the next day. After my little tantrum, I’d sat in the cemetery that was closest to my house for an hour, before hitting the streets, hoping to find some Damned to take my anger out on. I struck lucky on my way back home, and ended up in a fight that lasted well into the early hours of the morning.

“Sign your name in,” Miss Hardy snarled.

I stared down at the late form, trying to think of an excuse. Writing that I was up all night fighting the Damned would probably not go down well, and only earn me a trip to the loony house. I was more than a little late. I glanced at the time on my watch. It was nearly lunchtime. I’d slept in until ten, and then taken my time actually getting to school. Hospital appointment?

“I hope you have an appointment card to back up your story,” Miss Hardy said, peering down at the form as I filled it in.

“Not with me. But I’ll bring it in tomorrow.”

“Hmm.”

I signed my name at the bottom, slid the pen back into my bag, and headed in the direction of my locker. The end of class bell rang,
signaling
time for lunch. I counted to three before the doors to classrooms burst open and kids spilled out into the halls.

“Ready to do more research?” Mercy asked, running up to my side.

“Am I?” I said, faking enthusiasm. “You enjoy researching, don’t you?”

She shrugged. “It could be worse. And, I brought in some snacks so if we find an empty classroom, we can eat and read. Perfect.”

“What’s this about eating?” Chuck asked, strolling over to us. He waved to someone behind me, and then someone else behind him.

“Talking about research,” I answered.

“Oh. Great.” His face dropped. “Yeah, mind if I skip it? Sam’s been on my case wanting to know what we’re up to all the time. Maybe I should do something with him to keep him off the trail?”

It was the feeblest excuse I had ever heard, but I was saved from actually saying so when Sam rushed over, his rucksack bouncing around on his back. “Hey guys!”

“Hey,” we all chorused.

“Where were you this morning?” he asked me.

“Overslept.”

I think he didn’t know whether to believe me or not, so he settled on a shaky laugh and stopped at my locker with us. Maybe Chuck should take him elsewhere.

“Let’s go watch the gymnasts warm up,” Chuck suggested, as if reading my mind. “I hear Sarah’s in the team this year.”

Sam hesitated. “I don’t really want to see her right now.”

“Okay. How about we go into the canteen then? Lots of food, plenty of eye candy.”

“What about
Amerie
and Mercy?”

Chuck waved us away, dismissively. “Oh, don’t worry about them. They’ll come and join us once they’ve looked up this stupid Coat of
Tarham
thing they’re looking for.”

A chill ran through my body. Chuck’s eyes widened and he clamped his hand over his mouth,
realizing
his mistake. It was too late, Sam had already heard.

“Did you just say they were looking for the Coat of
Tarham
?” Sam asked slowly.

“No,” I said at the same time that Mercy asked, “Why?” and Chuck said, “Maybe.”

“You sound like you know what it is,” Mercy said, eyes narrowed.

He shrugged. “I do.”

Mercy, Chuck, and I exchanged glances of confusion. I gestured for them all to follow me, and we ducked into the first empty classroom we came across. Mercy perched on a table, looking incredibly interested. Chuck leaned against the wall next to me, and Sam stood in the middle of us, as if, he was about to be interrogated.

“What do you know about it?” I asked.

“Why are you looking for it?” he countered.
             

“Need it for a history project,” Mercy quickly answered before I had the chance.

Sam raised an eyebrow. “Yeah right. You think you’re gonna get a hold of it? Not unless you have millions of pounds.”

My heart dropped. He was obviously thinking of something else. “No. This isn’t something valuable. It’s like an object.”

“Yes. I know what it is. My mum’s been raving on about it for the past two weeks. She collects antiques, and one of her buyers has been looking for this one item for a very long time. Said he needed it for some collection or something. Anyway, he’s offered to pay her a lot of money if she found it and using her contacts, she managed to trace it.”

I stepped forward, my heart thumping wildly in my chest. “Your mum has it?”

“Yeah,” Sam answered, looking unsure of what I was getting at. “She’s showcasing it at her next auction show and then selling it to her buyer.”

“When’s the show?” Mercy asked.

“And how much is he buying it for?” Chuck demanded.

Sam turned to face them both. “All I know is that she’s showing it at this fancy auction on Saturday. And she’s selling it for a little over one-point-five million pounds.”

I was excited, there was no denying that, but a big part of me didn’t want to pin all my hopes onto this one coincidence. I didn’t even believe in coincidences.

“I don’t know...” I started.

Sam sighed. “Look, I don’t know why you’re looking for it, but there’s only one Coat of
Tarham
. When you live with someone like my mum, she repeats a lot of things. She’s mentioned that point quite a few times.” He spotted the disbelief on my face and rolled his eyes. “I’ll prove it to you.”

Storming across the room, he plopped himself down in front of the lone computer at the back of the classroom. It was already switched on, so he brought up the internet and typed in the Google web address. Then he typed in ‘Coat of
Tarham
’ in the search engine and hit enter.

“I thought you already
Googled
it, Chuck,” Mercy snapped, nudging him with her elbow.

“
Ohhh
! I didn’t know it was spelled like that…,” he answered sheepishly.

I ignored them, my eyes fixed to the screen. He clicked the first link provided, which brought up another page showing a picture of the supposed Coat of
Tarham
. I didn’t know what I’d expected it to look like, but I certainly didn’t expect that. It looked like a monkey carved by a blind man with no hands. No more than about three feet in height, it was pitch black, and incredibly ugly and misshapen.

“What the hell is that?” Mercy gasped.

“That’s it,” Sam declared. Then he shut off the page and turned to us with a smug grin. “My mum says that people back in the eighteenth century used to think this statue had conjuring powers. If you awakened the statue, it could be used for a whole bunch of spells.” He noticed our shocked and gawking faces. “What a bunch of crap, right? It’s an ugly decoration that has been hyped up to be way more than it is.”

I couldn’t wait to tell Marshall, even though I was still a little annoyed at him. I’d prove I could do something without him. I’d found the Coat of
Tarham
without his help, and who’d have thought Sam would be the one to help me find it?

“Thanks, Sam,” I said, patting him on the back. “I believe you. Guess I’ll have to find something else to use for my history project. I don’t have that kind of money.”

He smiled. “No problem.” His eyes flickered back to the computer screen. “You saw the part about it being one of a kind, right? I wasn’t making that up.”

“Yeah,” I agreed. “That must definitely be it.”

Marshall was waiting for me the second the bell rang at the end of school. I’d called him the moment I had a minute to myself and told him what we’d learned.

“Where’re we going?” I asked as soon as I climbed into his warm car.

He slid his arm around the back of my seat and turned his head to get a clear view while he reversed. “Albert’s.”

“To tell him?”

“Yeah. And to talk about recovery tactics.”

I narrowed my eyes, repeating his words in my head. Recovery tactics. “What for?”

He looked at me, waiting for me to catch on. Then it dawned on me. He wanted us to steal the Coat of
Tarham
from Sam’s mum. I sank back further into the seat, letting out a deep sigh. On the one hand, we needed to find and maybe destroy this creepy
statue before Seal found it. On the other hand, this could mean financial security for Sam’s family.

“Okay, stop with the internal moral battle,” Marshall said, smiling at me. “I can see it on your face.”

I shrugged. “I wouldn’t feel so bad if I didn’t know the person we were stealing it from.”

“Your boyfriend’s mum, you mean.”

“He’s not my boyfriend. I don’t understand why you have it in your head that he is. I spend, like, zero time with him. I spend more time with you than my own family.” I paused, thinking back to the argument with my dad. If he asked where I was, I’d have to lie and say I’d picked up an extra shift.

“Try not to think about it as stealing,” Marshall suggested, switching the subject back. “Look at it as you’re helping save the world.”

“You can be
kinda
nice sometimes.” I looked down at my hands.

“I can be whatever you want me to be,” he said with a cheesy wink. He ran his hand up my thigh, and though I slapped it away with a laugh, desire flooded through my body at his touch.

“I want you to focus on your driving,” I lied. “Get us to Albert’s in one piece.”

He mock saluted me. “Whatever my beautiful woman wants, she gets.”

I turned to face my window, sighing wistfully. If only I could get him to be mine.

The sun had set as Marshall drove into Albert’s tiny town. The drive was just as long as I remembered, and we’d had to stop off and get fast food on the way. I sipped on my Coke and stared out of the window, watching as the trees blurred past. The closer we got to Albert’s house, the more I began to feel like something was terribly wrong. I placed my Coke in the drink holder and sat up a little straighter. My skin prickled.

“Marshall,” I said warily, my voice breaking.

He turned onto Albert’s road, and I gasped. The cottage that Albert had tried so hard to make look
inconspicuous
was completely engulfed by flames. They rose up higher than the trees, threatening anything around it. Marshall slammed on his brakes and had his door open in one movement. I shouted his name and leapt out too, my feet pounding against the pavement
as I tried to keep up with him.