“Always thought you were smarter than everyone!” His mum shook her head, black hair flailing, glittering with grey. “Even back when you bathed in compliments calling you a virtuoso, a prodigy. Ha! I knew the truth. I knew why you were the way you were. It wasn’t from some gift touched by heaven, but a curse brought upon you from hell.”
“You don’t know what you’re talking about,” Elder said as cold and as delicate as snowflakes. “Dad understood. He helped me channel—”
“Yes, and just like I said before. You killed him!”
“I didn’t kill him, okaasan. The Chinmoku did. You know this! And they’re hunting all of us. You’re stupid if you believe they’re not a threat to you too.”
“Don’t you say that name!” She slapped hands over her ears. “Blaming others for your evil is not going to work. You were responsible. They died because of you. I did nothing wrong.”
Elder stepped toward her. Grabbing her hands, he yanked them down. “I’ve respected your desire never to see me again. I’ve stayed away even though it fucking kills me to be an outcast from my own family. But I won’t let you believe such lies. I loved Kade and Otosan just as much as you did. If I could turn back the clock and never get involved with the Chinmoku, I would. I didn’t know the price. I was naïve, but that doesn’t give me the right to beg for your forgiveness.” His voice turned sad, accepting that this fight had no winner or loser—they were both too stubborn to concede. “If you never want to see me again, then that’s you’re right, but, Okaasan, I love you—”
His mother let out another wail, struggling in his hold. He didn’t let go as if unable to part after so long. Her eyes fell onto Elder’s tattooed wrist. Such small ink compared to the artwork on his chest with the illusion of ribs and organs protected by a mythical beast. Most of the time, I forgot about the tiny characters ingrained into the thin skin of his arm.
I had no idea what it meant.
But his mother knew all too well.
Another sob escaped as she collapsed, dragging Elder to the floor with her as he tried to capture her weight without touching her more than necessary.
She struck him as her sob turned to howls.
Her hate turned to grotesque repugnance.
She shoved him away from her as if he was vile scum. “How could you! How could you?!”
I stood lost and unsure, but Elder sighed heavily, his face falling as he conceded defeat. “I could because they were mine too. I lost them too. Their names remind me every hour of every fucking day not to be that kid again. To harness it. To control it. To never ever forget.”
His mum crawled away, tears racing. “I hate you!”
“Too bad, I love you. I’ll never stop loving you.” Elder took a step back, letting her go physically and spiritually. “I’m sorry, Okaasan. For everything.”
Coming toward me, his body quaked, his hands balled and shaking. He kept his gaze on his mother writhing in agony on the carpet. “I’ll leave now, but you’re welcome to stay. Tell Raymond he has permission to stay as long as he likes—as I told all my uncles and aunts, nieces and nephews. Family you won’t permit me to see. Family who don’t even know I’m alive. But please, Okaasan, be careful.”
Rocking to her knees, his mother shut down. Her tears dried up. Her mouth thinned to a fierce line. Her emotions locked behind impenetrable gates. With a straight and true finger, she hissed, “Get out.”
“Goodbye, Mother.” Elder bowed low and sweeping like a prince paying homage to his sovereign before striking out for his own kingdom.
My heart broke for the disaster that’d happened. That I hadn’t helped more. That there was no way else for this to end.
With cold fingers, Elder captured my hand, took one last look at the woman who gave him life, and took me with him.
Far away from her.
Chapter Thirteen
______________________________
Elder
FUCK.
I threw the empty crystal glass at the wall, not caring if I dented the sleek perfection of paint and wallpaper. The tumbler was too thick to shatter, and it bounced off with an angry thud, rolling across the carpet.
It offered no satisfaction. No crash or splinter to soothe the rampaging agony and anger inside me.
“Goddammit,” I muttered, stalking to collect the glass to pour another shot of vodka.
I shouldn’t.
I really shouldn’t.
I’d had one. One was my limit. One taste to stave off the desire for the entire bottle. A trick I’d learned to allow a small sample of something before cutting it off entirely. Having that one taste made the removal easier rather than harder because at least I’d enjoyed some before being denied.
But it hadn’t worked tonight.