“We tried to get answers when we were old enough to understand what was happening. The Elders strictly forbid us from even mentioning her name in public. It didn’t stop us from looking into what happened but it left us with more questions than answers. From what we could gather from those willing to talk about it, our mother disappeared shortly after their demise never to be heard from again. To be completely honest, this recollection was a little spotty and we heard from some reliable sources that she loved us with all of her heart,” Callan recalled and I could see the pain in his eyes from having to relive what was a horrible childhood memory.
He turned away from me, obviously affected and about to show it physically, which he couldn’t do in front of the others. The door opened and slammed behind him to give him that bit of privacy to relive his loss without consolation.
The man was strong and was relied upon by his brothers to do the right thing. It didn’t seem fair to heap that responsibility on to his shoulders. It was apparently the way things were and he was considered the true Alpha. Nobody dared to speak against them and Donovan was going to rue the day. It was just a matter of time before they stepped back into the limelight to take what was rightfully theirs.
“Forgive him, he reme
mbers them better than we do. I wish he would talk about it and tell us some stories. The only way we’re going to keep them alive is in our hearts and our minds. I’ve seen photographs but they pale in comparison to heartfelt memories.” Crosby didn’t venture any closer, keeping a watchful eye as a good soldier on anything that might have been out of the ordinary.
Seeing through their mother’s eyes made it impossible for me to see her face. I had to believe they had those photographs near to their heart, never too far away from them. Some things began to make sense when I began to place emphasis on every single word said in my vision. Their mother could’ve been the architect of their father’s demise.
I didn’t want to tear them apart and saying anything more was tantamount to relationship suicide. I was afraid that news of how their fathers had reacted to their mother would sour anything we had together. Killing the messenger with deafening silence would be their reaction. There would be no way for them to get over the words coming out of my mouth. I wasn’t giving them the credit they deserved but the risk was too great to take.
“I carry my parents with me everywhere I go in this locket. Callan wears the family crest on his finger and Wesley has their initials tattooed, emblazoned on his skin, right above his heart. We honor them in our own way.” Crosby came over and put his arms around me.
I sighed and enjoyed the extended intimacy, giving me a moment to breathe again. It was those moments of quiet contemplation and unspoken passion which meant the world to me. None of us were innocent and we all carried the burden of our sins. We hadn’t gotten close enough to share those darkest feelings and fears. Being physical with one another opened up the pathways of communication but keeping the truth from them was a lie by omission.
My finger played with the locket around his neck, quite curious to see the contents. It would confirm or deny my visions were supernatural by origin. It wasn’t like I was ever going to forget the three of them. They had come to life in the past and I was a bystander, through the eyes of somebody that hated them with every fiber of her being.
Killing her beloved caused a chain reaction, with her evil intentions quite clear from the words I had heard underneath her breath. It wasn’t a leap of faith to presume she had a hand in what had happened to their fathers. The only thing that didn’t make any sense was the reason why she had left her sons to fend for themselves with the entire community becoming surrogate parents to them.
“Losing them like that left this huge hole in your hearts. I could sense through your voices, growing up there was a wall of mistrust between you. I have two ears and I’m willing to listen without judgment,” I said, hypocritically, knowing I was asking them to do something I couldn’t.
Crosby took off the necklace and it swung back and forth in front of my eyes. It landed in my hands with cold indifference, sending a chill down my spine. The material was gold plated, with the Black family name on the front in onyx.
“I actually talk to them and it helps to think they’re listening. Saying those words that hurt me takes away the power. I release those bad memories into the stream of my consciousness. Wesley taught us to let go of the darkness in our souls.” Crosby was almost daring me to open up the locket.
I opened it and I saw their faces like a blast from the past, literally and figuratively. Their mother had these cold, dead, blue eyes and it was quite recognizable the way that she felt about them. My eyes widened when I saw something familiar staring at me. I was shocked at how the unmistakable mark on her bare shoulder was hereditary. It wasn’t a coincidence and the pieces fell together like a jigsaw puzzle.
Natalie was a direct descendant and most likely their sister.
Chapter Twenty
The bar in question was an out of the way dive frequented by the unsavory elements of society. The parking lot was littered with motorcycles and big pickup trucks, obviously compensating for some kind of shortcoming. Roughnecks and bikers sometimes didn’t mix well when liquor was involved. I was rocking a red leather skirt, hugging my hips to draw those less than innocent eyes. It was agreed upon that Wesley, Callan, and Crosby would be in attendance but I was alone flaunting my wares.
It was close to midnight and those overindulging were quite boisterous and loud, with the smell of tobacco wafting in the air. A fight broke out and the bouncer stepped in quickly to defuse the situation before it escalated. He wasn’t a bruiser and didn’t project a menacing air. He was actually quite soft-spoken and stayed quiet near the bar, in the shadows, ready to strike like a cobra after its prey.
I didn’t have a good feeling about any of it. We had no description of the guy who had been bragging about his accomplishments to anybody who was willing to listen. It was a high octane environment where the slightest provocation could tear the place apart. The mahogany of the bar had a few morally challenged women on top of it, dancing to the whistles and catcalls of those having a good time.
The black leather boots and bustier accompaniment I was wearing had eyes watching me, as I made my way over to the bar to find out what was on tap. The bartender was a tattooed woman with the very strange name of Zenith. She had them eating out of her hands, laughing at their insipid jokes and showing off a bit of skin to garner a healthy tip.
“I’m telling you the place was a tinderbox. The flames were quite something to see when they got out of control. I just had to stand back and watch my handiwork in action. There was no way anybody could have survived my masterpiece. You always get what you pay for with me. Many of you can attest to that personally and I have never disappointed.” He was making a spectacle of himself, with his black goatee and cold blue eyes, underneath a pair of unassuming glasses.
He wasn’t like everybody else, resorting to a black bomber jacket and very casual black pants. He was wearing an ostentatious belt buckle that was almost blinding from where I was standing, every time the light hit it a certain way. He was literally advertising his last name. The ugliest trait was arrogance and he had that in spades.
I spotted Wesley standing in a corner drinking a beer, watching everything with an eagle eye. His blue jeans were tight and some girls were not being very subtle about checking him out. They probably saw him as a mystery and wanted to peel back the layers to see what was underneath.
Callan was playing a game of pool and running the table, with several young enthusiasts quite upset by the results. He was careful not to brag and shrugged it off when they told him that he was a shark. The black leather vest over a denim shirt had me thinking of creative ways to get him naked and at the mercy of my eager eyes.
Crosby was flirting shamelessly with two inexperienced young girls barely able to stand. They were touching him and I suddenly felt this need to rip their hair out by the roots. It was an impulse and I quickly squashed it when I realized he was playing the game. It wasn’t their fault he had become catnip and his personality was an open book at the risk of looking too close beyond the cover.
“I’m going to ask you one more time to shut up. Some things are better left unsaid and you are talking way too much. People are starting to notice and we don’t want to risk the walls having ears,” The man beside him advised sternly and I could tell from his body language he was getting increasingly upset.
“You worry too much. What you need is to get laid. Pick somebody from the crowd and do what comes naturally. I didn’t ask you to come here with me but you insisted. I get the feeling you’re not exactly impartial when it comes to my employment. I don’t like the idea of having a baby sitter.” He put his hand on the man’s shoulder and if looks could kill, he would be writhing on the floor gasping for air.
The jukebox was blaring old eighties tunes and people were dancing, grinding to the number, with less than subtle intentions. It was interesting to be an observer, voyeuristically taking in everything around me. It was a dance and each gender was trying to learn the steps. Some of them were going to get lucky and other ones shot down. It was all about having game and using disarming tactics, like a warm smile and conversation, to get into a woman’s panties.
I motioned for the bartender and whispered into her ear about how I was friends with Holly. She took immediate interest and I handed her a hundred dollar bill, slyly, with nobody being the wiser.