Chapter 6

Blind Date

That evening, Lenora went to bed feeling completely out of sorts and utterly alone. She had known all along what she would hear and see, but actually having it staring her directly in the face rocked her. What kind of life was she leading? What purpose was she to serve except to fulfill a destiny that was laid out for her by people whom she suspected didn't care for her as a person. She wasn't Lenora, the witch; instead, she was Lenora, the object of mankind's expectations. She was an item on display, a thing to be bought and sold.

She tossed and turned, seeing over and over the images of Carrie innocently waving up at her as she lived out her perfect life. The signatures blurred before her eyes as she allowed herself the luxury of tears, even if only for a brief time, hidden from prying eyes of people who would never understand her torment. Aspirations – Carrie had aspirations! Lenora only had a lonely, meaningless life that would stretch for decades over an endless road of dreary nothingness.

Lenora's body began to spasm as she allowed the pent-up sobs to escape. Burying her head in her pillow, she indulged in self pity and loneliness. Her mind went over scenes of what could have been as desperation and feelings of entrapment engulfed her, causing her soul to feel as empty as a black hole. For perhaps the first time in her life, Lenora Evans wished she were dead.

The distraught witch finally cried herself into a fitful sleep where she experienced horrific nightmares of hideous monsters grabbing for her and luring her into their lairs of destruction. She tried to scream when a slimy green arm grabbed her and pulled her inside a swirling pool of black, smelly water, but her voice wouldn't work. She was paralyzed with terror as the tentacle dragged her down, down, down where distorted forms of Ralph and Gertrude, rotting and decaying, reminded her of her destiny, their voices clogged as if worms were eating their throats. A laughing and jeering Carrie, a woman who was Lenora's mirror image, taunted her, saying that she, Carrie, was the treasured twin, the one who would take on the world. Lenora tried to scream once again as the ground beneath her feete softened and was slowly swallowing her, dragging her toward its rank breath.

She woke up screaming!

Lenora, drenched in a cold sweat, sat bolt upright in bed and trembled violently. Images of the dream made their last appearance in her brain before they began to slowly fade away into the realm of forgetfulness, but the terror still gripped her in its icy clutches. She lit her wand and nearly screamed again when she saw a shadow on her wall, only to discover that it was only the dark shape of a stuffed dog that Roger had given her. She picked up the cherished inanimate black Labrador Retriever and hugged it tightly, wanting desperately to feel a sense of comfort. She shook with sobs and discovered that she hadn't really stopped crying. Hugging the stuffed dog close to her chest, she lay back down, finding that her pillow was wet from her tears. She could have turned it over, but for some odd reason, she wanted to feel the dampness against her cheek.

The next morning, Lenora staggered down to breakfast feeling as though her body were betraying her. She was pale and drawn, and she felt nauseated and sore all over. Her eyes felt like sandpaper, and she had no doubt that they were bloodshot. She'd resisted the temptation to throw something and shatter her mirror when she'd looked at her pasty reflection and saw the dark circles underneath their vivid and troubled blue depths.

"Well now, don't we look like the picture of vibrant good health?" Gertrude quipped as Lenora slid into her chair.

"Please don't start, Mother," Lenora grumbled. She nearly gagged when she smelled the sausages and eggs being placed in front of her by Delilah. "I'm not hungry this morning," she told the maid.

Delilah nodded and took away Lenora's plate. She frowned slightly at Lenora's pale face, but she didn't question it. She had been told to do her job and not ask questions, ever. "Coffee, Miss Lenora?"

"Yes, please," Lenora said. Well, if nothing else, she would get her caffeine jolt. Perhaps that would get her sluggish mind and body working again.

Lenora was relieved when the subject of her less than healthy appearance was dropped. Thank Merlin Ralph didn't question it, but then, he had never bothered to make a big issue of someone's physical or emotional well being. She rested her forehead against the palm of her left hand while her right hand held onto her coffee cup. She lifted her head only long enough to take sips of her coffee, doing it silently. The sound of even her own voice made her head hurt.

She bit back a string of oaths when her mother spoke next. "I suggest you pull yourself together soon, Lenora. You have a date tonight."

"Huh?" Lenora said, wondering if she'd heard correctly.

"A date has been set up for you and will take place this evening," Gertrude explained, talking almost as if she were explaining something to a half-wit. Jason Strickland will pick you up at six sharp."

"Huh?" Lenora asked again. God, it hurt to even think.

Gertrude sighed exasperatedly. "Lenora, wake up and smell the coffee. You are to date an acceptable wizard and then be married when you are seventeen. That is our tradition and the way families of our status do things. Now, Jason Strickland is a reputable wizard and businessman with extreme wealth and power. He will make a more than suitable husband for you."

Lenora wanted to vomit right then and there. Oh yes, she was familiar with the custom of arranged marriages in pureblood families, but there was always that hope in the back of her mind that it would never come to it for her. Lenora suspected that these so-called marriages were nothing but farces behind closed doors. Couples seemed perfect and painted the picture of living an idyllic life, but she was quick on the uptake in many situations, and she was sure she was correct in assuming that these marriages were in name only and were adhered to so that one's station in life could improve. It made Lenora's head swim, knowing that everyone in their circle always wanted to be better off than the next person or family they encountered.

"Nice of you to give me notice," she said without enthusiasm. Lenora wondered if it was asking too much if Jason took one look at her, became revolted, and left without saying a word to her. Probably no such luck, she decided.

"it came up rather quickly," Gertrude replied.

"No, I'm sure it didn't," Lenora said. "You had it arranged in advance, and the short notice was to back me into a corner. You figured that you'd wait until the last minute so I couldn't back down." She finished her cup of coffee and then rubbed her temples. "Look, a promise is a promise. I said that if you told me what I wanted and needed to know about Carrie, then I would cooperate. I'll see this Jason tonight and see how it goes. Can't we just do one thing at a time and worry about the marriage part later?"

Ralph and Gertrude exchanged a glance, both of them looking slightly mollified. "Alright. First things first," Ralph replied.

Lenora grunted approvingly but then decided to voice what was on her mind. "If you're matching me up with someone of the highest caliber, why not hook me up with the infamous Draco Malfoy? Now that one would be a fine catch, according to the Gospel of Pureblood Etiquette." In a way, she knew the answer, and her assumption was correct upon hearing Gertrude's statement.

"It's unbecoming for a well bred young lady of your station to be 'hooked up' as you say to a man of younger age. It's customary for a man to be the same age as his wife but more acceptable if he is at least two years her senior. Jason is in his early twenties and has established his own wealth besides the wealth he will inherit someday from his parents' estate."

Lenora nodded and sighed with resignation. She only hoped Jason would have some manners. Most of the time, rich boys presented themselves as gentlemen, but before the evening was through, their true colors emerged, and they were more like little boys who were stud-wannabes. She could practically predict how the dates would turn out. First, he would take her to dinner at a nice restaurant, order for both of them without even asking what Lenora wanted, and then launch into an almost one sided conversation about himself with Lenora nodding and inserting a "yes" or an "uh huh," whenever appropriate. Then, he would take her to some secluded spot where her clothes would practically be ripped off as he pawed her while panting unbecomingly in her face. Lenora knew what they were after. Sometimes, if she was feeling frisky, she'd play along and give it to him. Other times, if she found her date to be completely repulsive, she'd put the guy in his place. If he still insisted, she wasn't above causing injury. One time, she'd curtailed a particularly horny asshole by biting through his bottom lip when he'd tried to kis her and head-butted his nose and breaking it when his hands roved where she didn't want them to. Tonight would probably be no different.

"He sounds quite affluent," Lenora replied. "I'm assuming this is to be a formal evening." Ugh! There was something wrong with this picture. Whoever heard of going over the activities of a date beforehand with parents? But she knew that things were done differently in their circles. Most of the time, it was the parents who arranged everything, and the children were expected to play nice.

"Yes. He will be taking you to the Starlight Inn," Ralph said.

Lenora produced a low whistle. "He doesn't waste time, does he?" The Starlight Inn was an exclusive restaurant and hotel for the creme de la crème of the wealthy and famous. Lenora would have to have a nap and a nice long soak so she wouldn't be seen looking like a walking zombie. If she had known what was in store for her, she would have wished that she'd come down with a case of Spattergroit.

True to Jason's word, he arrived promptly at 6:00 to pick up Lenora. He was a handsome, suave man with neatly combed black hair and intense brown eyes. He was of average height, just under six feet, and his dress robes were perfectly tailored on his muscular frame. He exuded sex appeal and confidence as he glided into the room.

Lenora was dressed to kill as she drifted gracefully down the stairs in a spaghetti strapped black dress. It reached her mid thighs and had a slit up the left side, allowing more of her creamy leg to show, which she would use to her advantage if it was called for. Her nails and make-up was done to perfection, and there was no trace of the drawn, tired look she'd worn earlier in the day. Her hair hung loosely to her waist in a cascade of golden curls.

"Magnificent," Jason said as he looked her over. Her size made her look like a dainty little doll, but Jason knew that there was more to her than that. There was definite fire in this woman, and he vowed to bring it out of her tonight.

Lenora smirked and eyed him coolly. "Lenora Evans," she said loftily as a way of introduction.

"You certainly are," Jason said. Lenora felt as though he wanted to eat her alive, but she wasn't intimidated. She knew how to handle barbarians like him, and she was certain he was a member of that particular species. He lifted her hand to his lips in what was supposed to be a charming gesture, but Lenora wasn't fooled. Merlin, help me get through this ordeal.

"We can Apparate to the Starlight Inn," he told her imperiously.

"In that case, we will have to walk to the border of our grounds, for there are anti-Apparation charms on our property. You will have to take me along as a passenger for I don't have my license yet."

"Fine," Jason said smoothly. "It will be much better than brooms or floo powder. I would hate for us to look windblown or sooty."

You mean, you don't want to mess up your pretty boy appearance. Lenora nodded in acquiescence and then said a swift goodbye to her parents.

"Have a wonderful time," Gertrude smiled and waved. Oh yes, this could definitely lead to something. Jason would be good for Lenora, and she was quite certain he could cow her fiery spirit. She grinned to herself when she heard the front door shut, signaling Lenora and Jason's departure.

Upon arriving at the inn, they were led to the best table in the restaurant, located at the center of the spacious dining room. Jason smirked, knowing that all eyes would be on them. Yes, Lenora was turning heads as they had walked in, and he put a possessive arm around her waist, giving a clear message that he felt she belonged to him. This irritated Lenora but she passed it off, but if he did it again, she would make her opinions known. It was clear to her that his only interest in her was because of her looks and maybe because she was a Siren; she was sure he knew of her ability.

The waiter handed Jason a wine list once the couple was settled. Without consulting Lenora, he ordered them an expensive Chardonnay. When it arrived, he tasted the little amount that had been poured into his glass. At his approving nod, both of their glasses were filled, and they were served..

"To a fantastic beginning for you and me," Jason said in a toast. Lenora slightly smiled and gave him a perfunctory nod, unsure if there would actually be a "you and me" between them. Probably not. Grudgingly, she admitted to herself that he had great taste in wine, at least; it was delicious.

"So," Jason said as they sipped their wine, "it's true you are a Siren. What exactly is that?" Damn, he didn't beat around the bush.

Lenora nodded and explained. "In Greek mythology, the Sirens lived on their own island and sat on rocks in the ocean. They would use their powerful singing voices to lure ships to their destruction by compelling them to sail into rocks and over cliffs, causing the ships to break apart and the men to drown. Sometimes they would lure the men to their sides where they would have their fun with them, putting them under their spell with their voices, and then making them drown themselves. The only times that someone escaped the deadly song of the Sirens was when Orpheus sailed past their island and played his lyre loud enough to drown out their song. The other time was when Jason and the Argonauts sailed past. Jason had ordered his crew to tie him to the main mast so he could hear their song but not be able to act out their orders. His men plugged their ears so they wouldn't be susceptible, but Jason kept his ears unplugged so he could hear. As they sang, Jason ordered his men to untie him from the mast so he could go to them, but since their ears were plugged, they could not hear him. They sailed past, unmolested."

Jason refilled her wine glass and she took another sip before continuing. "We present day Sirens are descendants of that bunch, but things are different now. There are some who still continue where the ancestors left off, but now, many of us have a life on land and are born into wizarding families. Of course, even so, there are Dark Sirens and Light Sirens. As for me, I'm not sure where I fit in." She blushed and ducked her head for a moment. "Most Dark Sirens don't have a conscience or a heart, but in rare instances, I possess both, believe it or not. I'm not against Singing Dark Songs, but I do it when I want to and not because I'm told to. The exception is when my vocal instructor asks me to during a lesson, but otherwise, I have my own agenda."

"Fascinating," Jason smiled. Lenora saw that he truly was intrigued, but she wondered if the fascination was because of the gift itself or because he might be hoping to brag about taking out a witch with special abilities. She knew the type; rich and powerful men wanted things that nobody else had, and this included girlfriends and wives with hidden and not so hidden talents. Again, the familiar feeling of being an object rather than a person assailed her, and she had to fight the urge to get up and run.

Jason reached for her hand. "Maybe you can give me a demonstration."

Lenora stiffened and pulled her hand away. "Maybe," she said noncommittally. For an instant, she saw Jason's eyes cloud over with anger, but it was fleeting. Yes, this one liked to overstep the boundaries a bit. Lenora would have to be firm with him and put him in his place if need be.

"What can we get you?" the waiter asked, coming to their table to take their food order. Just as she suspected, Jason selected for the both of them and ended up ordering something Lenora didn't fancy very much. She had a hankering for a juicy slab of ribs, but instead, she would chow down on pork chops. She resisted temptation to correct her order, knowing it would be quite rude and unladylike. She bit her bottom lip as she thought about how she would look eating ribs. Ribs and formal dates just didn't go together. Jason would certainly be turned off, which made Lenora want them even more. Oh well. She would find another way to make a statement.

Jason ordered more wine for them, which Lenora didn't turn down. When the waiter left, Jason again reached for her hand, but this time, she let him take it. "I've wanted to meet you for a long time, Lenora."

"Oh?" she asked.

"Yes," he said, giving her a charming smile. "I knew we would look wonderful together, and having you for a wife is a very attractive idea. Besides, you are a Siren, which is quite rare."

"I'm not a state of the art broomstick to be ogled at Quality Quidditch Supplies," she said, mildly irritated now.

"No, of course not." Jason was quick to soothe her ruffled feathers. "I only meant that we will turn heads wherever we go. You and I will be the talk of the century."

"You're awfully sure of yourself," she retorted. "Looking hot is no reason to marry someone."

Jason chuckled. "Maybe not, but it's a start. Come on, Lenora, don't be so self righteous. We're not living in a fairy tale. You know how it is in families and social circles like ours."

Lenora's blue eyes glared into his brown ones. "Self righteous I am not, but opinionated, I am. Yes, I know how it is, and it's so superficial. I'll never marry for love, I know that. Hell, I'm not really qualified to know what love is, but if I'm going to get married someday, and yes, I said if, then I want it to be in my own time. Right now, let's just take one thing at a time and see if we're at least a little compatible. If you want a chance with me, then keep your hands to yourself for a while, hmm?"

Jason reluctantly pulled his hand away from hers and gave her a disapproving look. Obviously, he hadn't counted on her disputing anything he said or rebuffing him. She would be a tough one to conquer, but he would do it. Yes, Lenora would be eating out of the palm of his hand soon. "Fine, if that's what you want."

Lenora didn't like the look she'd seen in his eyes. Warning bells went off in her head; he wanted to take things too fast, much faster than Lenora wanted or was comfortable with. "That is what I want," she stated firmly.

An awkward, long silence ensued until their dinner arrived. The plates were set down in front of them, and Jason began to tuck into his steak and baked potato while Lenora picked at her pork chops. "Do you always eat like a bird?" he asked her.

Lenora cleared her throat and would have had the grace to look apologetic had he been more considerate before he'd ordered their meal. "I don't fancy pork chops very much, I'm afraid. I used to like them, but once, I got sick on them, and I've not been able to enjoy them since. I've tried to steer away from them since that occurrence. They upset my stomach."

"Oh." Jason looked surprised. So, the iron maiden had an aversion to certain foods. "It's probably a psychological thing."

His flippant tone annoyed Lenora. "Well, maybe so, but it still exists." Dammit, but she wanted to rake her nails across his smug face.

Jason grunted and continued to demolish his steak, which annoyed Lenora even more. Mr. Sensitive this bloke certainly was not. But, to show that she was willing to give a little, she managed to get down half of her chops along with her twice baked potato. She wished she hadn't though because her stomach began to turn somersaults, and she felt the familiar churnings. Jason had tried to get her to order some dessert, but she knew it would only make matters worse.

Jason was oblivious to Lenora's plight. As he ate, he talked nonstop about his accomplishments and financial gains. By now, Lenora was tuning him out while her stomach continued to protest. She was never so glad to leave a place as she was that night. She hoped that he would take her home straight away, but no such luck. As she'd predicted, he had insisted on taking her to somewhere more private, which turned out to be his house.

Once inside, Jason put on some soft music and asked her to dance. By now, the rumblings in her stomach were down to a dull roar, but she knew it was only the calm before the volcano erupted. He held his arms open, inviting her to dance with him. Well, what could one dance hurt? She went to his side, and he immediately crushed her against him. She could smell the wine on his breath as he lowered his lips to hers while swaying with her to the music. He was a horrible kisser! She felt as though he were slobbering all over her, and she nearly gagged when he unceremoniously plunged his tongue into her mouth as if to eat her from the inside out. She stiffened and attempted to pull away, True alarm seized her at the sound of her dress being unzipped and his hands plunging inside to fondle her breasts.

She brought her stiletto heel clad foot forward to forcefully kick the sensitive place where his ankle and leg connected, bringing him up short. He groaned and immediately let her go, and she stumbled, feeling slightly off balance. "What the fuck?" he roared as he brought his offended foot up to massage it.

"You're a brute, Jason Strickland! What ever happened to a little bit of decorum?" By now, Lenora was feeling positively ill, and her face had lost all traces of color, despite the wrath of anger she was feeling.

"You wanted it, you whore," Jason shot back, all traces of geniality and charm gone now. "Oh yes, I know all about your reputation. You want it as badly as the next person. You ask for it."

"I didn't ask for it with you, you freak!" She backed away from him, her blue eyes smoldering with heated flames of hatred. "You're a fucking gorilla. You—" But she didn't' finish the string of insults she'd wanted to hurl at him, for her stomach let go violently. With an almighty heave, she doubled over and disgorged the contents of her stomach on the floor, with some of the mess landing on Jason's immaculate black dress robes.

"Bloody fucking hell!" Jason bellowed as he looked with revulsion at the disgusting mess, the odor of vomit permeating his olfactory senses. If it was one thing he couldn't stand, it was puke in all forms.

"Maybe next time…you'll ask your…date what…she wants to eat…before you…act like...a damned…Nazi," Lenora said in between bursts of heaving. If it had been a situation other than this, she would have been mortified, but she wasn't sorry at all for making such a gruesome mess. After all, Jason had acted like a complete jackass.

When her stomach had calmed down at least a little and she was able to straighten up, she noticed that her dress had also suffered damage. "Scourgify," she muttered, waving her wand over the material. She then turned on her heel and marched to the door without looking back.

"The least you could do is clean this shit up," Jason bellowed.

"Go fuck yourself," Lenora shot back after opening the door. She slammed it behind her and swayed alarmingly as another bout of nausea assaulted her. Groaning, she plucked a handkerchief out of her small handbag and transfigured it into a large paper bag. Sticking out her arm, she was rewarded to see the Knight Bus stop in front of her. "Welcome to the Knight Bus—"

"Save it," Lenora said, interrupting Stan Shunpike's cheery greeting. She staggered up the steps and flopped weakly into an empty seat on the lower deck. "I'll give you triple fare if you take me home first."

Stan could only nod, but he was relieved because he didn't like the way the blond witch was looking. Flipping hell, this was just as bad as when Madam Marsh rode with them.

The huge purple triple-decker bus lurched and bumped along, thrwing Lenora forward in her seat. This wasn't doing anything for her nausea. Groaning, she buried her mouth in the bag and let loose again. Her diaphragm felt like it had been squeezed by the tentacles of a Grindylow, and she felt as though she were dying. She was oblivious to the looks she was getting from other passengers, but she noticed that everyone had moved as far from her as possible. Good. Right now, she just wanted to give in to the indulgence of her affliction.

She wasn't sure who looked more relieved when she got off. Stan quickly took the extra coins she held out to him and then hurriedly shepherded her down the steps. Lenora banished the noxious smelling bag and then careened through the front door to head upstairs to the sanctuary of her room, but Gertrude's voice momentarily interrupted her flight. "How did it go?"

"Don't' talk to me right now," Lenora moaned as she clomped upstairs. She barely made it to her own private bathroom before the retching began again. She squatted in front of the toilet as spasms took her, and all the while, she repeatedly cursed Jason Strickland.

Lenora shakily peeled off her dress and fell into bed, nearly weeping with relief as she burrowed into the warm cocoon of her blankets. She fell asleep, picturing vivid scenes of Jason experiencing ghastly methods of torture executed by herself; she never, ever wanted to see the likes of that beast again.