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“There is no we,uncle,” she throws back at me.
Looking down into her dark eyes. “The goblet… it’s in Joanie's room. There’s no we, so I wish you the best of luck.. You won’t need my help.”
Not waiting to see her reaction, I leave and go back to my room. Settling on my bed, lighting a joint and taking a hit, I stare up at the ceiling, cross my feet at my ankles, and place a hand behind my head. The satisfied grin that spreads across my face is knowing, malicious,expectant.
I can’t wait to see her crawling toward me. Begging for my help, ‘Oh, please Merrick. Please help me.’
Because that’s the only way I’ll agree to it.
Chapter16
Merrick
Joanie is out. I saw her leave earlier, off to the town center. She likes to walk the ten minutes once a week to do whatever it is she does there. I don’t fucking care.
Fallon has Harper over and they are in the attic, catching her up on the events of the last twenty-four hours while going through trunks of all the shit.
“What if I don’t want this, Harper? What if I just want to leave, and never look back? I didn’t sign up for this. I’m scared and I feel trapped,” Fallon complains to Harper. Here we go. Welcome to the pity party.
How many times does this girl need to be told she can’t fucking leave. The town let my brother think he got away. Fuck, I thoughtIgot away.
Guess who’s back?
Me. My brother and now you, stupid little girl. The town got a deal, three for the price of two.
“Fallon. It’s not that bad. I love it here. Maybe one day you will love it too, with time.” Harper suggests.
Fallon sits with it, but she’s not as subtle as she thinks. “Tell me. The last new person to come and live here was what, over fifty years ago? Why did the town let them in? If I ask nicely, will it let me leave?”
Fuck this. I can’t handle this bullshit anymore.
“Fallon, you are next in line. Plans are already in motion. There is no leaving. As much as I’d love to be the reason you’d try, it won’t happen. A part of you believes the curse. If you didn't, you would have already tried.”
Harper's eyes are wide, and her jaw goes slack.
“Fuck you, Merrick. Fuck this. Harper, let’s go.”
“...but. No. Merrick?” Harper stutters.
“Obviously.”
I don’t have time for two stupid little girls.
“The last person to move here had something to offer the town. The elders at the time voted on it and they allowed her to stay. That shit is rare.”
“He’s right. She pleaded her case at the bridge and they let her enter. She brought with her the love for Port Canyon, which was solely based on the rumors and whispers. It didn’t scare her. She said she would do anything to be a part of us. The elders decided she could stay, but they would arrange a marriage for her in order to produce heirs for the aging Healer. He has been so consumed with his practice that he hadn’t taken the time to find someone. The marriage was arranged and multiple heirs were produced. Everyone here serves a purpose. No one stays here by accident.”
Interrupting Harper, I add my two cents. “She basically signed on to be a glorified whore. A baby producer extraordinaire.”
“Is he always like this?” Harper questions, and Fallon is quick to snark back. “Yes. This is actually tame, considering.”
“Aw, a compliment. I knew I was growing on you, but I don't fall for stupid little girls.” I tease back, knowing this will only further piss her off.
“You know what? I think you should try running. Let me chase you to the bridge. See what happens. Will the town curse you right away or edge you like they did with my brother? Drawing it out until the very end, then bam! Dead. Gone forever. And they still got him back. They got you too.” I throw at her, smiling.
Fallon stands and rushes me, getting right in my face, and I swear I see a glimmer of sadness in her dark eyes. “You don’t know shit. You left my dad here alone. With your mother. You are a fucking coward. My dad tried. He fucking tried! You gave up, driving yourself off a bridge. You see that car down there?” Fallon points to the tower window that looks down to the driveway. “My dad, your fucking baby brother, searched for ages to find that car. A 1985 Porsche. To honor your memory. To feel fucking closer to you. You are pathetic.” Fuck me. She played the sentimental card, well played. Keeping my face neutral, not wanting her to see she's affected me, “Do you feel better? Getting all that out?” I question her. As much as I want to watch her run from me, to push her further, to take pride in breaking her into a million tiny pieces, we don’t have fucking time. The spirit elders have given her a timeline.
Moving quickly, I pin her to the wall. Dust rises upon impact, misting over us.
