Disclaimer: I don't own My Candy Love.
Chapter 6—Drop Your Guard
Monday, November 2
After the pandemonium that had occurred Saturday had passed and I had been released from the hospital, Tandy had gone home with her very concerned aunt. She'd glowered at me whenever she could, even yelling at me at one point for putting her daughter in danger. And, rather than handle it like and adult, I'd turned around and insulted her parenting skills. I don't recall exactly what I said, but it was something along the lines of "child neglect".
And don't even get me started on her daughter. During the ambulance ride, Tandy developed an obsessive crush on Castiel and chattered endlessly about him, sparking Dad's curiosity, which was even worse. He'd drilled me on who he was, how I knew him, why he dressed like a punk, blah blah blah…and what does Tandy jump in and say? "He likes Addie's legs! He said so! He said she could hurt people with them."
I'd winced and tried to ignore Dad's look, but he was going to want answers at some point, and he got them, eventually. While Sunday was spent trying to make me comfortable while Charlotte locked herself in her room, Monday, Dad made both of us stay home and explain the events before the police came around, since they hadn't already. I told him what had happened to me, and he filled in the blank spot where I had gone looking for Charlotte; Tandy had run into Siren Woods in a panic and Zane had followed her. Apparently, Zane had said that he noticed the girl following them and hid Brian under some tree roots, where they found him later. She'd pulled a gun out later and chased him, so he lost track of Tandy, but heard my voice calling for her. Dad told me that Zane thought that the girl—who I'm convinced was Lilith—had been after me all along, because after trying to shoot him a few times, and grazing his shoulder with one of the shots (lovely), she'd left him alone, stopped chasing him.
When I broke in and told him that Lilith Dark had been the girl with the gun, in her red cape and black clothing, with the scarlet lips, he stared at me doubtfully. "Are you sure, Addie?"
"Of course I'm sure!" I snapped. "She matched all the descriptions my friends gave me." I turned on Charlotte, lips pressed into a thin line and hands clasped together to stop them shaking. "She had black hair and grey eyes! She wore red lipstick! How can that not be her?"
"Addie," Dad said softly. I looked at him. His eyes were troubled. "They found a body that night."
I thought of the body bag I'd seen, the faint shape of someone underneath its rough covering. I'd been afraid it was Zane. "Yeah. I know."
"Do you know who they found?"
I glanced at Charlotte. Her composure was hardly being held together. I couldn't understand why—the fact that Lilith had resurfaced? "No," I said, tearing my eyes from her. "I don't."
"It took them a while to identify her. Through an extensive search of Siren Woods, they found her on the shore of the Siren River, on the cemetery side. They said her name was Lilith Dark."
Tuesday, November 3
Upon arriving at school, I was showered with gushing apologies, grievances, and gifts, but none of it could lift my mood. If students weren't talking about Zane and I, they were talking about the body of Lilith Dark. I knew it, some would whisper, or she wouldn't have been so quiet if she were alive. None suspected kidnapping, or Lilith being a victim of consequences; they tarnished her memory without a second thought, and it seemed that even after everything she'd been through, Capucine's talk was the worst. She just couldn't stop telling everyone about what a sick, two-faced loser Lilith was.
If I had just been able to see the body, verify that it was the same girl who stalked me on Halloween. Had I made my assumptions too quickly? Was it somebody else? Or had she died so suddenly after trying to kill me—something that happened during the moments I blacked out? I touched my bruised head gingerly. There was a faint line of purple along the corner of my forehead, though the bruise spread much farther. I'd landed on the stone with strange markings, Zane on top of me—what about those? Were they even worth mentioning? They could have been anything in that dark, hieroglyphs, a mural, even a gang sign. But were they relevant?
Too many questions that needed answering. I deserve them, I reasoned, because some crazy bitch tried to shoot me. Scratch that, self-pity is never the way to go. What were the chances Dad would let me go back to the forest where I was attacked and check the area out? Slim, to none. I'd have to sneak out. He was keeping a close watch on me as of late.
It was incredibly ironic that on my way to class Castiel should bump into me and knock my coffee out of my hands. I watched it fall, the foam cup breaking as the brown liquid splattered across the floor. I sighed. I'd barely had two sips because it was so hot. "You bring bad luck," I mumbled, ignoring every thought of Saturday night. I gazed at the spilled coffee forlornly.
"You're just neurotic," he replied, despite my lack of emotional response. I sent him a wry look, but he didn't seem to notice it, or chose to ignore it. "C'mon. I'll get you a new one."
"What's this?" I gasped dramatically, placing a hand over my heart. "Castiel, offering to reimburse me? What a gentleman."
"Don't push your luck," he threatened, "or you'll get nothing."
"Definitely witchcraft," I stage-whispered, but followed him out the doors. We had enough time to go downtown to the Forum (;P), a bistro down the street. I lied and told him I'd gotten a large, even though I'm pretty sure he knew it had been a medium, but he bought it for me without complaint. I frowned at his back, trying to figure him out as we left. Taking a sip, I found that the white chocolate mocha was wondrously sweet.
He glanced at me, and I held the cup in front of my lips, so that they weren't visible, and smiled. I wanted him to see the crinkle of my eyes, and by the light snort he emitted, I guessed he had. I walked next to him until we got back to school, every brush of our shoulders sending an electric shock through me, and we ended up being late. Neither of us cared, much, although the teacher told me flat out that she wasn't going to mark me absent. At lunch, Kim remarked that she wished she had been shot. I reminded her that it was Zane who had gotten hurt, waving away her gesture to my head, telling her that it wasn't funny. She then took the liberty to tease me about him. It was actually annoying, so I left, food sitting abandoned on the table, with Iris' sad eyes following me. That was even worse; I didn't want, nor did I need, anyone's pity.
"It's like everybody completely forgot about Damian and Capucine," I said bitterly. "It's all about what happened to Zane and I or trash about Lilith. I've never been one for empathy, but imagine how she would feel if she knew what kind of slander people branded her with? She died—how can they wake up in the morning and look at themselves in the mirror after saying those things?"
Lysander regarded me morosely, a different kind of sorrow than what swirled in Iris' eyes. "You're right. It's a despicable thing to name someone's memory after all the bad in their life instead of the good, but Lilith Dark was not a liked person. I would never say anything that negatively influenced her legacy, but others are not so sympathetic, specifically the victims of her abuse. She had the ears of a bat and the tongue of a snake, and the only language she spoke was poison. Her heart had shriveled and blackened with every new enemy made, but there were times when Lilith was just another, with pressures and grief that consumed her."
I poked him in the arm. "You just negatively influenced her legacy. And gave her a speech. The kind that they make at a funeral. Except you were a little more liberal with it than most would be."
"I don't know," Lysander considered. "Based on your observations, I'd think they weren't concerned with niceties when it came to last words."
"I don't even think they will give her a speech. Or a funeral." I could feel my drained body shake. "Did anyone care?"
"Her parents, perhaps."
Her parents. Lilith Dark's parents. "I wonder what they're like. If they're still in town. If they were mean to her, it would explain her behavior."
Lysander frowned disapprovingly. "I believe you're becoming too accustomed to things that should be left alone, Addie."
"But just think about it," I pleaded. "It could explain something about who she was, why she died. And, more importantly, how she died."
"'What thou care killed a cat, thou hast mettle enough in thee to kill care'," Lysander quoted. "Curiosity is dangerous."
I scowled, and crossed my arms. It was starting to get cold, a brash wind buffeting my white-blond locks while the remaining leaves of the apple tree whispered a hushed melody, singing to their dying days and praying for a lush life reborn. "When it lives without satisfaction, yes." I paused. "But if it lives forever, the danger will be forever.
"What if she had a reason to hate—not necessarily justified, but the cause for all of it? And don't you think that it has something to do with her death?"
Lysander sighed and closed the book that had been splayed out in his lap. "I generally try not to associate myself with these things." He gave me a serious look. "But if I did, I would say that Lilith Dark is more dangerous dead than she is alive."
The rest of the day was comparably dull, with me trying to rearrange my group; even at my explanation of Castiel and Nathaniel's Cold War, Mr. Jenkins was unsympathetic and doomed me to suffer between them and Amber. During the last ten minutes of class Mr. Jenkins let us work with our groups, so I attempted to deal with our dysfunctional one. I suggested Amber and I separating the work times with the boys, so they wouldn't be around each other and could still share data and research, but Amber wasn't willing to do anything with me around. She offered to work with Castiel and Nathaniel separately in accordance to the plan—but protested when I explained that that would mean I worked with both of them, and the idea of Castiel alone with me coupled with the same concept with her brother was repulsive to her. So we went back to my version. Then, we were faced with what legend we wanted to pursue; I don't think Nathaniel was thrilled with the project itself, and none of us had any idea of what to use. As a matter of fact, any legend we did research on would likely be done by many other groups, as I was fairly sure Sweet Amoris' history didn't consist of many myths. Even so, I made a point of taking a trip to the library after school to find a good topic.
I went back as far as possible, the earliest archive dated in the 1800's. I was browsing what looked like journals, pulling out the very first one I saw. After flipping through a few pages, snatching a few interesting bits here and there to store in my brain, I put it back. The second one was more entertaining, detailing the creation of a new town—Chorus.
I frowned. Either these are the wrong archives, or Sweet Amoris didn't always have a sugary name. I flipped the page. I didn't know who was recording the events, but it sounded like a girl. Of course, because it was reprinted in a glossy, serif italic computer font, I couldn't identify gender by the handwriting. I'd come across no pictures of the original entry, but I wasn't terribly bothered.
January 14, 1732
They've decided on a name—the town will be called Chorus, for the way the trees sing in harmony with the wind when it passes. It's a beautiful place, lush and green, and I've found myself a nice little spot in the forest to picnic and get away from the sounds of Father's men and their building. It's a very quiet area. It would be a pleasant place to release myself from the clutches of the world, a breath of fresh rain on the leaves, crisp apples, and musty bark. I'm afraid there's not much else, but for now I am content.
She must be very in touch with her dead side, I mused morbidly. Speaking of death so lightly, she must have had a simple mind, ignorant to what the dawn could bring. Or, more importantly, the dark.
January 21, 1732
The trees are silent. They fear their songs will anger the Light Murderer, the Bane of the Moon. He walks in shadow and asks questions to bring you close, though you cannot see his face, for the dark consumes all but his ghastly smile. When you answer, and you answer incorrectly, your feet are forced forward, until you stand before him, and he takes you, ruins you, and you are gone forever. He's taken Josephine, a servant girl of my father. I am sad; she was my friend. Now she is lost to the dying branches, and no one knows where she may lay, none but the Moon and the Light Murderer.
My attention was rapt, but the entry ended there. I sighed and flipped the page, but for some reason, the date skipped all the way to May 27 of 1741. There was no mention of the "Light Murderer", and the speaker seems to have changed, a young man intent on explaining the development of Chorus. I continued to turn the pages, but they were all on border disputes and recording the town's growth.
I shook my head. It didn't make sense. Flipping back to the very front, I read the note in the front of the book, in which the editor explained that the beginning entries came from the diary of Camille Dark.
I frowned, giving the surname a double take. Dark? As in Lilith Dark? I wondered how long Lilith's family had lived here. Were they related to the founders? Could it be coincidence?
My head ached, and threw a hand up and laid it across the tender bruise. The doctors had said I was lucky not to have a concussion, but they might have made a mistake. The pounding continued, and I suddenly felt dizzy. I stood up, but stumbled. Covering my eyes with my hands, I hardly heard the voice in front of me before the familiar blackness returned and the floor rushed up to meet me.
When I blinked open my eyes to a buzzing sound, I was lying on my bed. I could tell it was late by the lack of light coming in through the dark curtains, and turning my sore head toward the clock on my nightstand, I saw that it was almost ten. With a groan, I rolled over just as my phone buzzed again. I flung an arm back and groped for where it lay by the clock, and upon unlocking the screen I found that looking into the sun would have been less painful on my head.
To: Addie
WTF? Y is Capucine telling ppl u fainted in th library?
To: Addie
Yo, answer th fone!
To: Addie
U no im not gonna stop till u tell me wat happened
To: Addie
Omfg r u serious
To: Addie
Addie. Addie. Addie. Addilicious. Addie. Adelaide. Addie. Addie.
…Aaaaaaadieeeeeeee.
To: Addie
Omg r u dead?
To: Addie
If ur dead im callin the cops
I sighed loudly, which hurt my head. Her most recent text was just sent, and if I didn't text back—
To: Addie
Im fuckin serious ho
To: Kim
Stfu. I'm tired.
To: Addie
Oh, hey, ur alive
To: Kim
Yeah. Idk how. What's Capucine saying?
To: Addie
Sayin you passed out in front of nathnail
To: Kim
Idk who the hell "nathnail" is. And I wasn't even with Nathaniel.
To: Addie
Oh, mayb it wuz sumbody else then. Idr who it wuz. Whatevs. Iris was freakin out and peggy was all over it
To: Kim
Yay
To: Addie
Lol haha she told castiel and he was just like *poker face*.
To: Kim
Gotta love that kid. You can really tell he cares.
To: Addie
Ya, bout u. Bot u friggin coffee. Expensive shit. Saw him checkin out ur ass the other day
To: Kim
What?
To: Addie
Yep he's all like "dat ass"
To: Kim
…No. just no.
To: Addie
YES. Jk jk, I dint c him do that but he probly duz.
To: Kim
Is that how you write in Lit?
To: Addie
No, Addie, I do not right like a moron in Literachure.
To: Kim
Yes, Kim, I think you do write like a moron in Literature.
To: Addie
STFU. :)
I didn't answer her after that, because I hadn't necessarily wanted to in the first place. Instead, I stared at my dark ceiling and thought about the diary entries I'd seen. Camille Dark—I shivered at the name.
Something nudged the hand hanging over the bed, and I froze, thoughts skipping to Lilith Dark's bloody lips. But then something nudged it again, something wet, and a whine accompanied it. Smiling, I leaned over the bed to scratch Beau behind his ears.
But it wasn't Beau, after all.
Charlotte lay on the floor, covered in a dark liquid. I couldn't tell what it was at first, but then I remembered the chocolate syrup on Halloween last year. She gurgled, reaching out with a hand covered in blood, and grabbed my wrist. "Help me," she choked. "H-helkk-kkk—"
She coughed blood, spitting in into my face, I shrieked, falling back, off the bed. When I glanced up, Lilith stood there, clutching something covered in sticky red-black substance. It glinted menacingly in a strip of moonlight that fell across her blood-shot eyes. I tried to scream, but no noise came. She stepped off the edge, towering over me as I wrestled at the blankets. But they seemed to tighten, grow compact, freezing me in place. Again, I attempted a scream, but there was nothing, nothing but her horribly twisted smile. "Once you're gone, I won't have to worry about my mother's memory being betrayed. I'll get rid of all of you and leave him to grieve over what he has done to her."
And she buried the knife in my heart.
I gasped, flipping over to find myself gazing at the flickering lights of the school library. I'd had a nightmare…while I was unconscious?
"You're a damn train wreck, you know that?"
I sat up and swiveled on my hip, finding myself staring at Castiel, who was kneeling before me. There was a scowl plastered onto his face, but his eyes showed relief. "Shit. Oh my God. Where the hell did you come from?" I demanded.
He grabbed my elbow and hauled me up. My vision swam again, feet prancing clumsily, and Castiel wrapped a hand around my waist. "What, are you drunk?"
"Of course not," I tried to raise my voice, but it came out in an exhausted whisper. I tried again, this time in more of a girlish squeak. "I'm just a little dizzy."
"More like ditzy," he said as I vaulted forward. He tightened his grip, pressing me to his side.
"How long was I out?" I asked, putting a hand against his stomach to stay steady. I found myself pleasantly surprised at how solid it was; hard, even, with two of my fingertips resting in the short dips of his abdominal muscles. I blushed, ducking my head, which made me stumble again, and my body made a thick thump as it collided with his. My lips were hovering an inch from his neck, and my heart was playing a game of wall jump. I couldn't look up at him.
"A few seconds," he said indifferently, but I felt something rap in his chest, too.
"Oh," I said. I paused, and we stood there for a few seconds. I took the chance to breathe in the scent of him; dried grass, hot winds, and summer storms.
"…Are you going to need a wheel chair or something?"
For some reason, his presence steadied me, and I was able to step back, albeit with a hand on his shoulder. "No," I replied, keeping my head low in embarrassment. I glanced around for the book, and found it on the floor behind my feet. Grabbing it, I stuffed it in my bag, not willing to bother with the checkout desk. They wouldn't even know it was gone. When I was done, I gazed awkwardly at Castiel and wondered what to say.
"I'll walk you home," he offered. Was it the crappy lighting, or was he…blushing? I didn't have time to invest in the issue, because he grabbed me by the elbow, this time more roughly, and led me out of the library, ignoring the librarians concerned glance. I wanted to ask him why he'd gone there in the first place, but it appeared as if he was in one of his moods.
"It's a long walk," I told him. He didn't answer. We walked the halls in silence, and he was still holding on to me when I noticed Nathaniel locking up the Student Council Room. He cast me a curious glance, as if he were trying to ask a question, but Castiel and I were out the doors before anything could be said. The air was frigid, and I stuck my free hand in my bag before remembering that I had left my jacket at home. Why was I so incredibly stupid? I glanced at Castiel, wondering if he'd noticed and if he would lend me his. Leather didn't conserve heat that well, but it was better than the thin long-sleeved shirt I was wearing now.
However, he seemed to be lost in his dick-headed mood, and his tight grip on my elbow was beginning to hurt. I wasn't skinny or gangly, but I wasn't robust, and though my hips were attractive in proportion to the rest of me, they weren't big, so to speak; the point being that I was still much daintier and smaller than Castiel, and therefore much weaker and more susceptible to pain. "Uh…Castiel?"
He didn't stop, but his pace slowed, at least, and I winced at the way his hand tightened. "…I'm cold."
Castiel regarded me with pause. He stared at me for a moment, and I began to wonder if he thought I was making a dumb statement or that I should've just asked outright instead of dropping hints. But slowly, he shrugged his jacket off, releasing his painful grip, and handed it to me. I tried, unsuccessfully, to suppress the smile twitching at my lips as I put it on, unintentionally sighing with relief at the warmth of it. So maybe leather did conserve heat…if it came from someone like Castiel. Now that I thought of it, he reminded me of summer, blazing heat and fiery thoughts.
This time, he took my hand, which surprised me. I made my expression neutral, afraid to scare him away, but pondered over whether or not that would discourage him. In the end, it didn't matter, because he had already turned and pulled me along with him, about twos step ahead of me. From where I was, I allowed myself the biggest, goofiest grin I could muster, finally able to relish in how drunk I was on his presence. I gazed down at his hand, clasping mine, and noticed how lax his fingers were, the way mine just lay there, straight and unresponsive. Feeling melancholy at the idea of him thinking I wasn't interested, I wrapped them around his just as he was about to let go. For a moment, his surprise was palpable, but he eventually returned the gesture. I decided I liked the way our hands fit together, like…yin and yang, or something. I was too high on him as it was to make similes and metaphors out of it. I just wanted to be there, with him. To feel what I never have gotten the chance to feel. It was like there never was a Lilith Dark or a gun on Halloween or Capucine getting hurt or even a Damian Hallowell. There was nothing but blissful silence and a cold breeze.
When we reached the start of Meriwether Road, Castiel finally broke the ice and asked me where I lived. He started to angle himself toward the street heading to Stonegate, but I shook my head. "Up there," I explained, nodding to the road ahead, which led to Meriwether Heights and then West Madison Road. He spared it a cursory glance.
"Are you a Soc?" he joked, pulling me in that direction. Frankly, I was stunned that he was talking about The Outsiders when I'd figured him the type to blast music rather than read. Maybe because that was more my thing, and I was confusing him with Nathaniel.
Yeah…no.
"Are you a Greaser?" I teased. He snorted. The trees bordering Meriwether Road shifted, like they were speaking to each other, and though it wasn't sending out a scary vibe, I pressed closer to Castiel. I'll admit that I'd hunted for ghosts when I was younger, but that didn't mean I wasn't wary of the dark. Our laced fingers tightened around one another, and this time, I definitely saw the blush, standing out even in the dark.
I was right when I said it was a long walk, but it was by no means unbearable, especially with him there. Before long, we were on Meriwether Heights, which curved around the hill that West Madison Road was on. A few cars passed by, which made me nervous with their proximity, since the thin sidewalk we were on was bordered by a railing overlooking the mediocre drop to the valley below. I could see Sunnyside Beach from where we were, even smell the ocean.
"Damn," Castiel mumbled. "Snob Hill."
"I hate it," I said forcefully. He glanced at me. "All the people are pedantic pricks who look down on you if you don't dress and act like them."
"Huh. Does that idiot and his dumb sister live up here?"
I sent him a coy smile. "Yes, yes they do."
We continued in silence until finally reaching West Madison Road's gates. When we got there, I reluctantly pulled my hand from Castiel's and walked over to the left pole, punching in the code. The gates opened, but when I beckoned him in, he stayed there. "C'mon," I said.
"I've walked you far enough," he said gruffly, and I hoped that after holding my hand, he probably wasn't necessarily trying to mean.
"I don't think you have," I replied softly. Ignoring the warning breedle that emitted from the code box, I strode back over to him and took his jacket off. I was suddenly freezing, but coerced myself into handing him the leather garment. He received it and pulled it on, stuffing his hands in his pockets. My own were icy now. "But I guess there's no stopping you. Will you at least let me drive you?"
Castiel smirked. "Nah. If you drove me now it would feel like we walked all this way for nothing."
"Are you sure? It will be hard to see you in the dark, you might get hit by a—" I stopped at that familiar, arrogant grin.
"Worrying about me?" he taunted. I blinked.
"Um…yes, actually. I wouldn't want you to get…hurt…"
He looked ready to say something, and had gotten really close to me, when we heard a car come up the road. I saw the gates beginning to close and quickly thanked him for walking me home before slipping between the narrow gap. When I stepped onto the unstained, white sidewalk on Madison Place's side of the gates, I turned, recognizing the person in the car that pulled up next to the keypad. Nathaniel leaned out, punching the code in, glaring at the red-haired boy that was striding away from the gate while he waited for it to open.
I had to stifle a laugh when Castiel flipped him off.
Reviews are important…without them, I will fall off of an imaginary cliff in my mind and then this story will shrivel up and die, slowly. Very sad.