A Beautiful Fate (28 page)

The nurse followed in after they left and checked my blood pressure.

“I don’t want any more visitors coming into this room, do you understand?” My tone was neither kind nor warm.

“Ok, I’ll make sure of it. What about your guardian?”

“Do I have a choice?” I snapped.

“No ma’am, I’m sorry you don’t.”

“Then why the hell did you even bother asking me?”

“You’re right, I apologize.”

I gave her a bone-chilling stare and watched as the goose bumps rose on her arms and up the back of her neck. I felt a strange rush of power and an unbelievable amount of control. I sat up a little straighter and clenched my jaw. The nurse tore the Velcro from the blood pressure cuff off my arm and rushed out of the room as if her life depended on it. A big NO VISITORS sign was hung on my door, but that nurse didn’t return to my room for the rest of my stay.

Chapter 17

The flight was absolutely miserable. I refused the painkillers the doctor prescribed for my shoulder because I despise the way they make me feel as though I have no control over my mind or my body. The pain in my shoulder was nothing compared to the one in my soul. A heavy ache radiated from my chest up through my limbs and into my mind. Every time I closed my eyes, Ari was there and the hurt started over, and each time the hurt was worse than the time before.

We had a layover in Chicago and being in the city that had so recently been my home made everything worse. Thoughts of Mia and my mother flooded my mind. Then Margaux dragged me through the airport to the very same coffee shop Ari and I had been to just a few months earlier, and the ache in my heart doubled.

Spending a total of twelve hours with Margaux doing anything would have been torture, but this trip away from Dana Point was inhumane and excruciatingly painful. I got the distinct impression that my grandmother felt the same way. At least she had had the decency to put us in first class so I was not physically uncomfortable...and was able to maintain a modicum of distance from her. The flight attendant caught on pretty quickly that Margaux and I were not going to be a pleasure to deal with and ignored us most of the time, which was fine by me.

“Did you know that the Alexanders had been looking for me?”

Margaux sighed with obvious irritation.

“You really want to do this now?”

“Tell me.”

“Yes, I knew.”

“Why didn’t you tell them I was your granddaughter?”

“What would they have done with that information, Ava? You were a child and you were living with your mother, where you belonged. You weren’t good for them. You aren’t good for anybody.”

“Who are my mother’s birth parents?”

Margaux choked on her gin and tonic and dabbed her lips with a cheap airplane napkin. “What would possess you to ask that question?”

“She was like me, wasn’t she? She was like me and my father, but you never told her.”

“Fine, Ava, you’re right. Lucy’s birth mother was a very dear friend of mine and, yes, they were like you. Fates. She was of Clotho. Her mother was afraid that she would be hunted down and killed so I promised I would take her in and protect her and I did until she met your father and he ruined her life.”

“Did her mother have any more children?”

Margaux rubbed her temples in annoyance but I could care less how she felt at the moment. I had questions and if I needed to, I would happily beat the answers out of her.

“She did have one more daughter. She couldn’t bear to give up another child so she kept her, and they went in to hiding. I heard her daughter was killed last year, shot by one of the men you killed six days ago.”

“Did her daughter have any children?”

“I wouldn’t know, Ava; my friend quit speaking to me once you were born.”

“Who are you?”

Margaux looked at me with icy black eyes. “Shut up, Ava,” was all she said.

I had the feeling that if I didn’t stop questioning her I might not live long enough to see London. I kept quiet for the rest of that agonizing flight.

We arrived at Heathrow in the middle of the night. Margaux had arranged for a car, two cars actually. She handed me an envelope and said that the keys to the flat were in it along with the address. The driver knew where the flat was and he would make sure that I got there safely. She announced that she would be staying at The Dorchester for a few days to get some work done at her London shop and then would be flying back to L.A. She also told me that my physical therapist would be at the flat at seven in the morning and my tutor would be starting Monday at nine a.m. She then shut the door and tapped on the roof. The driver sped off.

My flat was located in Camden Town, and even though we arrived there in the middle of the night, the streets seemed busy. I saw a lot of leather jackets, tattoos and interesting hairstyles. The driver pulled up to a brick building on a corner. He carried my luggage to the vestibule, put it on the lift, tipped his hat and left. The building appeared to be ancient and abandoned. A few windows were broken and partially boarded over. Graffiti had been spray painted on the elevator doors. Clearly, I was the only tenant. My flat was on the third floor. I cursed the driver for not seeing my luggage all the way in, but I managed the job with just one good arm anyway.

I was relieved when I got inside my actual space. It was much nicer than the building had led me to believe. The flat was open and airy. On the left, the living room had what appeared to be a working stone fireplace in decent condition; next to that was a big oval window that looked down over the street below. A window seat had been built into the bottom sill and a quick sit down proved the cushion fluffy and comfortable. To the right, the living room opened up into a decent size kitchen. Straight ahead, a short hall led to two bedrooms and a bath.

I walked straight back to the far bedroom, wrapped myself in a blanket and for the first time since I had found Lauren in the forest, let go and sobbed uncontrollably. My body shook violently as my tears flowed, causing pain to radiate through my ribs and shoulder. My heart hurt and I was consumed with anger and bitterness. I hated myself for having lied to Ari and for having left Dana Point. I wanted to throw things and break stuff. I wanted to scream, hit, and kick. I was bursting with rage and I was too tired to sleep. I lay there for hours in a strange city, in a strange flat, on a strange bed wrapped in someone else’s blanket, and soaked myself with my own tears. I waited for daylight.

My sobs and cries were interrupted when Nora, the physical therapist, arrived at seven a.m., just as Margaux had said she would. She was dressed in workout clothes and had her hair pulled back in a low ponytail. She had a nice smile and a very pretty face. Her accent was classically British and she was very definitely in a talking mood.

Despite my somewhat surly attitude, Nora remained professional. She kept up a light conversation and didn’t ask about my injuries. She was scheduled to work with me for an hour each day, and left promptly at eight a.m. I hadn’t been friendly, but I was sorry to see her go. Her departure left me with twenty-three more empty hours to fill.

My therapy hurt like hell. I painfully made my way back to the back bedroom. I wrapped myself back up in the blanket and, since I was already in pain, I allowed myself to think of Ari and wallow in self-pity.

At some point, sleep came and I found myself in the hall with my scissors. I did what I had to do. I showed no mercy, as there was no longer any kindness in my heart. I then escaped into a new nightmare that featured the deaths of everyone I loved. I awoke sometime in the late afternoon.

Margaux had had the kitchen stocked before I arrived. I made a kettle of tea and some toast then sat in the window seat, where I stayed until Nora found me the next day. We went through the workout together and when she left, I fell asleep. Once again, I walked the halls playing catch up for all of the weeks that I had missed when I had found solitude with Ari.

Ari. Ari. Ari. I missed him so much.

I was alone all weekend. I spent most of my time either in bed or in my window seat, staring out into the depressing, gray London sky. Hate and anger were constant emotions. My grandfather and mother had been taken from me. Then I had lost Mia. And now, Ari and Rory, Aggie, Lauren, Andy, all of the people I loved, had been ripped from my grasp.

On Monday, my tutor, James, arrived an hour after Nora had gone. I was already miserable from the workout and was in no mood to deal with this ostentatious twit. He was a complete jerk and a total idiot. It became perfectly clear to me that I was much smarter than he would ever be. He began lecturing about a book that I had already read and knew well. I asked him a simple question, testing his knowledge. James fumbled for a moment then made up an answer that I recognized as false. At the end of the hour, I saw him to the door and told him that his services would no longer be needed.

I sent a text to Margaux: “I have fired James. Send a replacement tomorrow or I am leaving.”

The next day a new jerk, this one named Thomas, showed up at my door. He lasted only twenty minutes. I punched him square in the chin after he ran his fingers through my hair and whispered something creepy in my ear. I sent Margaux another text: “Another loser. I am packing my bags if you have not found someone suitable tomorrow by nine.” These were empty threats of course; I had nowhere else to go.

After grabbing some ice for my knuckles, I went back to bed. I took a fist full of my hair and pulled hard, needing a pain I could control. I shoved my face into my pillow and screamed long after my voice ran out. I stayed like that for hours as the rage inside me grew and grew. I hated that I was here. I hated that I had killed two people and that they had tried to kill me. I hated the fact that my heart hurt and the only one who could make it feel any better was the one person for which I could not be.

When Nora arrived, I could tell that she was growing increasingly uncomfortable around me. Her fight or flight instincts were kicking in and she was a flight type person. We went through my stretches and small shoulder workouts in near silence. I noticed she shivered whenever she had to come close to me, and I saw the goose bumps on her arm.

As she started to pack up for the day, I had the feeling that I may not ever see her again. “Um, Nora,” I said softly, “I know that I may come off as a scary person, but if you give me a little bit of time, I think you will find that I am actually really nice.”

She smiled at me and nodded. “Sure, Ava. Sorry I am little distracted today, that’s all. It looks like your wound needs to be cleaned... and that bandage should be changed. Would you like me to help you?”

Nora was ignoring her impulse to run from danger. I will never understand how some people are capable of putting their fears aside – out of kindness I suppose. She was afraid to hurt my feelings or challenge my pride. I let out a breath of relief and graciously accepted her help.

Nora slowly peeled the old wrappings off my shoulder. She sucked in a breath when she saw my wounds, knowing straight away that I had been shot. She never asked for the story or the gory details as most people would, and I respected her for that.

By the time Nora left, I was exhausted; I had not slept in over twenty-four hours. I was perched up in my giant oval window when, at nine o’clock, I heard a knock at my door.

“It’s open,” I replied in a very hoarse voice. I heard the door creak open but didn’t bother to turn around.

“Uh, Hello?” I heard a guy with a French accent say, “I’m August Jolie, your in-home professor. You must be… Avie?”

I turned around to face him for the first time. He was tall, skinny, but still muscular, with short-cropped blonde hair (aside from one thick, jagged chunk that ran down the middle of his head and flopped down into his eyes. A bright green streak ran through the middle of it.) He had on black skinny jeans, a gray zip-up hooded sweatshirt and black lace-up boots.

“Listen,” I snapped. “My name is Ava, not Avie, not Baby, and not any other stupid pet name you may feel inclined to give me. You are here for academic purposes only. You will not touch me or ask me anything personal. If at any point I feel that you cannot provide the type of education I require, then you will be let go with no explanation. Is that clear?”

“Yeah, sure, Ava, whatever,” he said with a snotty
tsk
as he brushed his hair from his eye with a pinkie finger.

I motioned for him to come in and he closed the door behind him. Painfully, I made my way to the couch and took a seat. August took a seat in the chair across from me and brushed the green strand of hair once more out of his eyes. He opened up a messenger bag and began to pull out book after book.

“So this is how this is going to work,” August started. “I will meet you here five days a week from nine until two. You will have assigned readings,” he pointed to the stack of books, “and each afternoon we will discuss your findings. Thursdays, I have set aside for offsite class where we will be attending various museums and interesting architectural structures in the city. I expect to have all discussions on Thursdays
en Français
. You will be tested each Friday. Your exams will also be
en Français
and I expect your answers to be as well. Is that clear?”