Now was the time for revenge.
CHAPTER FIVE
Istepped out of my closet, buttoning the sleeve of my fitted dress shirt. I had not showered since Calia’s funeral. The stink of alcohol and sweat clung to my skin, but I had hardly noticed. Jasper and Rowena, however, were quick to point out the stench.
Even I could admit that spending half an hour under the scalding hot water had momentarily cleansed the past few days from my mind, allowing me to breathe for what felt like the first time.
My wardrobe was always straightforward and efficient. I did not stray from darker tones, dressing in various shades of navy or grey for variance, but I had a proclivity toward black. It was classic. Timeless.
Not to mention the fact that it hid blood marvelously.
But more than that, I was ashamed to admit I did not think myself capable of wearing anything more. Color felt personal in a way I was not comfortable with. It was expressive, allowing others to peek beneath the mask one might show the world. And I was not prepared to be scrutinized in such a way.
Calia had been like a rainbow, though—full of dazzling bright light and energy that could not be contained by a monotonous wardrobe.
I reached down to grab my towel from the floor, hesitating only when I saw a flash of pink in my peripheral view.
There, lying in the corner of my closet, was a neon pink hairband.
I picked it up, holding it tightly between my thumb and forefinger. Calia’s sweet mint scent threatened to send me to my knees. She always had these on her wrist. If not one, then there were often two or three. She had every color imaginable, often coordinating her outfits with them during our final days together.
Perhaps this was a gift—a sign of some sort that I was on the right path. Perhaps, she was still with me in whatever way one's spirit remains with their loved ones. That thought terrified me most of all.
Slipping it on my wrist, I inhaled deeply. Fog clung to the mirror in my bathroom, but I could still make out my own unfamiliar face between the fading lines as I stood beneath. Under normal circumstances, I kept my appearance almost obsessively polished. It was a habit my father had drilled into throughout childhood.
“You cannot act the part without looking the part,” he told me one evening as he and my mother prepared to leave for a midnight gala. “Should you try, you will be ridiculed before you even begin.”
I had taken his words to heart, ensuring he would be proud of the man he had molded me into.
But now, as I stared at the gaunt face gazing back at me, I no longer recognized myself.
Deep purple hues marked the skin below my eyes. No flecks of silver light shone within my irises, swallowed wholly by thedarkness creeping outward. I was haunted—the shell of a man who once had everything. I had not shaved since the morning of the party, allowing a dark scruff to shadow my jawline. My hair hung just below my eyebrows before curling slightly at the ends. I pushed it back, closing my eyes against the memory of Calia brushing her fingers through it as we lay in bed together amidst rare moments of vulnerability.
I could still see her smile, the dimple on her right side I was unsure she even knew she had. I had memorized the smattering of light brown freckles that ran along her cheeks and nose. Sometimes, they would fade away when she wore makeup or became agitated. But every morning I woke up next to her, I would roll over and count them as she slept. Now I begged for one more day to brush my thumb across her cheek.
“Fuck it,” I muttered, letting my unruly hair hang loose before grabbing my phone and wallet and striding out of my room. I could not think about the changes to my face any longer, for in each one, I saw a reminder of hers.
It was comical, really. A person would allow minor details to pass as though they did not matter. It was only when they vanished that you’d realize their importance.
I went down the hall, stopping just before Jasper’s room—I raised my fist to knock. However, it swung open before I met the wood. He stepped out, quickly closing the door behind him as he gave me a once over and smiled. “Black? Ah, are we planning to kill someone?”
I shifted on my feet. “Yes, well, you never know when the occasion might call for it. I like to be prepared. Were you able to reach your contact?”
He scratched the back of his neck, breaking eye contact. “I did.”
“And?”
“She agreed to meet with us…” he said, trailing off with a sigh.
I raised my eyebrow, knowing what was coming. “But?”
He winced. “But she can’t guarantee a meeting with the elders. And she won’t meet here. She said we’d have to go to her.”
I did not relish meeting out in the open with anyone, especially a witch I did not know. There were too many variables and too many things that could go wrong. But I wanted to feel the warmth of my mother’s blood coating my hands as I tore into her slowly, and this meeting was a risk I was willing to take—one Ihadto take.
“Do you trust her?” I asked, placing my hands behind my back.
He nodded once in confirmation. “I wouldn’t have reached out if I didn’t. She may not be the easiest way in, but given the situation, I believe she’ll help us.”
