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My father grunted in response. So much for his earlier fatherly concern.
"I don't think it's a good idea for her to be here. Learning the details about her mother's death has upset her too much."
"It's her own fault for digging where she shouldn't be. That's in the past."
"She wants to go back to Connecticut to look for her aunt."
My father snorted, and I felt myself flush from anger. How could he care so little about his own sister?
"Brenda has always caused trouble. Caitlin doesn't want to meet the same fate as Brenda."
"What does that mean?" Simon sounded angry. Their conversation was confusing, hinting at a familiarity that I didn't understand. They were speaking so frankly, which was odd for two people who had just met today. Simon had threatened physical violence on my father just a few hours earlier.
"It means she needs to watch herself, that's all."
There was a long silence, so long that I contemplated slinking back to my room. I didn't want their conversation to be over and have one of them walk out and catch me eavesdropping. Simon's voice stopped me.
"I'm going to Connecticut with her. Don't do anything to upset her."
I heard footsteps, so I raced as quietly as I could back to my room, my heart thudding against my ribcage. I quickly shut the door, wincing when it creaked.
I paced my room, my thoughts racing a mile a minute. The authoritative tone of Simon's last statement bewildered me. It's not that I was surprised that they were talking about me. After all, they both thought I belonged in an insane asylum. But the dynamics of their exchange didn't make sense. It was as if my father was deferring to him.
I froze when I heard footsteps approach my bedroom door and stop in front of it. I don't know what possessed me, but I scrambled as quietly as I could to the door and locked it. There was an audible click and I cringed at the noise, sure that whoever was on the other side of the door heard it too.
I didn't release my breath until the footsteps started up again, fading away.
A part of me wanted to storm out and demand that they tell me what was going on. But I doubted they would tell me the truth. They would just humor me until the men in the straitjackets arrived, carting me off to the mental institution.
I needed to figure out the truth on my own. The best way was to not let on that I had heard anything. I would never get anything out of my father, but Simon was a different story. Regardless of what was going on, I knew his feelings for me were his weakness. Because I couldn't believe his feelings were fabricated. No one could act that well.
We would go to Connecticut tomorrow, away from my father, and I would get the truth from Simon, either by guile or force.
It took me a while to fall asleep, but for the first time I welcomed it. As terrifying as my visions were, there was a chance that I would have a dream that would shed some light on what was happening. I was willing to risk everything for the truth.
Chapter Eleven
"Is blood thicker than water?"
I whipped my head around, towards the voice, but I couldn't m
ake out anything in the dark.
"Who's there?" My voice sounded weak and frightened to my own ears.
There was silence and then the voice again. "Which bonds are stronger? Which gives you life?"
It was so hot. I felt like I was burning, but there was nothing but darkness. I didn't recognize the voice, but it was getting closer and closer. It was frightening not being able to see.
"I'm...I'm not sure," I faltered. "Isn't blood thicker than water? Doesn't blood give you life?"
"A bond unbroken can be a curse. A watery grave can be a blessing."
I whirled around, the voice a whisper right against my neck. I reached out in the darkness, but my hands grasped nothing but air.
"What does that mean?" I begged. "I don't understand!"
"You will." The voice was receding, becoming fainter. "You'll understand when it's your time."
