KDC: They are so fun! I just love them!
Panda: I just couldn't pass those lullabies up. I'm glad you liked them. The one that Roxton's mother sang to him is actually one that I have been taught. It is really a long lullaby.
Keys: I've given up on Tiffany. I fear she'll never update. So, I guess I get to kill her now. Haha.
Chosen: Get ready to fillet! Yet…mmm…you may not want to once you learn who it is.
Kat: Oh, I am always cooking something dreadful up. Haha.
Taya: Couldn't you just imagine it? I would love to hear John sing a haunting lullaby to his children.
Courtney: I promise that no story will ever end like Remember You ever again. Yet…that doesn't mean I won't ever kill people again.
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Chapter Fourteen
Visitation
Marguerite, moaning, rolled onto her back and stretched her arms high over her head. She was achy and sore from yesterday's brutal trek home and last night's vigorous love making. She inhaled a deep, refreshing breath before sitting up clumsily and peering down at the sleeping man beside her. He was sprawled out, taking up more than his fair share. His dark, chestnut hair was spiked in all directions and Marguerite couldn't help but reach over and brush away the few strands drifting over his eyes.
It was time for another haircut.
Marguerite crawled off the bed silently, wincing when the rush of pressure filled her bladder. Groaning, she staggered out of the room. One of the worst parts of living far from civilization was the bathroom arrangement.
Passing the twins' bed, Marguerite paused. Curious, she peered inside. William and Lilliana were fast asleep, peaceful and unharmed. Smiling, she proceeded with relieving herself. When finished, she went back to her children's nursery and sat in the rocking chair, reflecting on the calmness settling over her. Ever since she'd met Klor nearly two-and-a-half years ago, Marguerite rarely felt as though it would be safe to let her guard slip.
A breeze swept through the room and Marguerite closed her eyes, basking in the cool breath of air. She allowed her walls to crumble, setting her mind free. It felt wonderful to let go.
"Marguerite," a voice whispered tenderly from the doorway.
"Mmm," she mumbled.
"Thank you," he breathed into her ear, but it sounded as though he were miles away.
"For what," she laughed.
"Saving him."
Marguerite's eyes snapped open and she glanced back, her eyes going wide. The space was empty.
Marguerite leapt to her feet and rushed from the room. She ran to her bedroom and stopped dead in her tracks when her eyes fell on her still sleeping husband. She was about to cry out to him, but held back. Whoever had talked to her hadn't frightened her. His voice had held warmth, comforting her instead of filling her with terror.
She wandered from the room, following her senses to the elevator. She had an ever-pressing urge and – despite her own warnings – she stepped into the elevator and rode it down onto the jungle floor. Stepping off the lift, she circled the giant tree once before stopping in front of the electric fence. "What the hell is going on," she mumbled, dropping to her knees. Sighing heavily, she lowered herself forward and rested her forehead on the dirt. Am I just plain crazy?
"No."
Marguerite popped up. "Then what the hell is going on!"
"Johnny boy sure picked a spitfire. No wonder it's been so hard for me to get you to listen."
Marguerite tumbled backward, but quickly regained her balance and jumped hastily to her feet. "Fine. I'm willing to listen now. Who the devil are you and what the hell do you want?"
"I want to help you."
Marguerite turned in a circle, searching the voice out. "And why the hell should I trust you?"
"We're family."
Marguerite snorted. That's it. I really have lost it. I'm probably locked away in some London Insane Asylum, strapped to a bed and being fed through tubes. The plateau doesn't exist. Dinosaurs don't exist. Apemen don't exist. Marguerite frowned and thought brokenheartedly: My children don't exist.
"The only family I have," she said aloud. "Are the people sleeping in there," she pointed up at the tree house.
"Well, that would make me family by blood."
"What the hell are you talking about? Who are you?"
"Lord William Roxton at your service."
Oh, brother, Marguerite thought before rolling her eyes and marching back to the elevator. This has got to be a bizarre dream.
End Chapter Fourteen
As you can see, I am rather quickly losing it with this story. Any suggestions?