Sempre (Forever) (3 page)

“What happens if there's a power failure, sir?”

“The system's on a backup generator.”

“And if the generator doesn't work?”

“Then I suppose you stay locked inside until power's restored.”

“Will I have a code?”

“Maybe someday, if I feel like I can trust you with one,” he said. “After what you pulled in Blackburn, I'm sure you can understand my position. I'm a lot closer to civilization than they were.”

She couldn't understand his position, refused even to try. “What happens if there's an emergency?”

“There are always ways around the system, but I don't foresee any situations that would require you to know those tricks.”

“But what if there's a fire and I need to get out?”

Dr. DeMarco gazed at her for a moment. “You certainly are a crafty one, aren't you?” Before she could respond, he turned away. “Come on, I'll show you around.”

Straight in front of them was the family room, with couches and a television on one of the walls. There was a fireplace along the back beside a small piano, the wooden floor shining from the glow of the moon streaming through the large windows. To the left was a kitchen filled with stainless steel appliances, an island in the center with dozens of pots and pans hanging above it. The dining room behind that had the longest table Haven had ever seen, big enough to accommodate at least fourteen people. She wondered how often all of those seats were taken, unable to imagine cooking for that many people. To the right were a bathroom and laundry room, as well as an office tucked underneath the staircase.

The entire second floor belonged to Dr. DeMarco—a bedroom and bathroom, along with another office and a spare room. Haven noticed some of the doors had keypads beside them, a sign she wouldn't be going into those rooms.

They continued up to the third floor, the staircase ending in a large open space. A window lined the back wall, beside it a table with two plush gray chairs. The other three walls held doors leading to bedrooms, but the area itself was packed full of tall bookcases. Hundreds of dusty books lined the shelves. Haven stared in shock, having never even dreamed of seeing so many before.

“I suppose you could call this our library,” Dr. DeMarco said. “It doesn't get much use and I imagine it still won't, considering Antonelli said you couldn't read.”

Haven could feel his eyes on her, but she stayed quiet and didn’t meet his gaze. A door opened nearby and a boy stepped out from one of the rooms. He was tall and lanky, with shaggy brown hair.

Dr. DeMarco turned to him. “Dominic, this is, uh… she's going to be staying with us.”

“Hey there,” Dominic said. “Nice to meet you.”

“Hello, sir,” she said, her voice shaky.

His laughter echoed through the room, bouncing off of the bookcases. “Oh, no, that won't do. Call me Dom.”

She nodded as he headed down the stairs. Dr. DeMarco led her across the room, striding right past the first door without a word and stopping at the second. “This is where you'll sleep. Go in, and I'll be right back.”

Haven hesitantly stepped inside. The room was entirely white, the furniture, the curtains, and the carpet all plain. Most of the house held the same effect, the walls empty and the rooms uncluttered. There were no pictures and no nick-knacks, nothing that would hold any sentimental value. Nothing to give her any idea of what type of people they were.

She still stood just inside the door when Dr. DeMarco returned with some clothes. “They'll be big, but at least they're clean.”

She took them. “Thank you, sir.”

“You're welcome,” he said. “Get cleaned up and settle in. This is your home now too. You can enter any room that's unlocked except for my sons' bedrooms. You'll need their permission before you go in there.”

He’d said it again.
Home
. She'd lived with the Antonelli's her entire life and had never heard it referred to as her home.

Dr. DeMarco started to walk away but stopped after a few steps. “Oh, and feel free to help yourself to anything in the kitchen if you're hungry, but just don’t try to burn down my house. Doing so won't get you a code any faster. I’ll let you burn to death before I ever let you outsmart me.”

*  *  *  *

Haven ran her hand along the fluffy white comforter and smiled. She’d never had a bed before, much less a bedroom of her own. Her nights in Blackburn had been spent in the stables, in a back stall on a worn-down mattress with some of the springs exposed. The temperature was comfortable there at night, so she hadn’t had much use for blankets, one of the ratty, old covers they kept for the horses enough for the occasions it did get chilly. She preferred not to use them, though, because they were itchy on her skin, nothing like the material she now felt against her fingertips.

After stripping out of her clothes, she went into the connecting bathroom. A large tub sat in the corner with a long counter and a sink across from it, a rectangular mirror above it on the wall.

Hesitantly, Haven glanced at her reflection. Her cheeks were sunken in, cuts covering her face as a bruise ran along the right side of her jaw. There was blood caked around her hairline from a gash in her forehead, and it was like a layer of dirt had permanently settled on her body.

None of that was enough to cover her scars, though. There were dozens of them that she could see and even more on her back, constant reminders of what she’d gone through. The bruises faded and sometimes so did the memories, but the scars remained.

She drew a bath and slid into it, hissing as the steaming hot water came into contact with her skin. She scrubbed every inch of her body raw as tears pooled in her eyes, overwhelmed and unsure about what would come of her. Dr. DeMarco had been decent, but she wasn't fooled by his gentle voice and small tokens of independence. Nothing came without a price. She was still a prisoner, trapped with no way out. While Dr. DeMarco might not have looked like a monster, she wasn't naive enough to believe that one didn’t live inside of him, lurking just under the surface.

She got out after the water started to cool and found a towel in a small cabinet. It smelled of flowers and was soft against her skin as she wrapped it around her body. Heading back into the bedroom, she grabbed the clothes and slipped on the black flannel pants. They hung limp on her frail form, and she had to roll them up to keep them in place. She grabbed the white t-shirt and unfolded it, noticing the picture of a football on the front. Turning it over, she flinched when she saw the big black number ‘3’ covering the back.

*  *  *  *

Time passed slowly as sleep evaded Haven. She huddled under the blanket, trying to find comfort, but the stillness was unnerving. It was too new, too foreign. A prickly sensation crawled across her skin as it felt like the walls were closing in on her, hunger and anxiety taking its toll.

It was the early-morning hours when it got to be too much. Dr. DeMarco hadn't told her what time to wake up, and in her haze, she'd forgotten to ask. Worried she'd anger him by staying in bed too long, she quietly slipped downstairs.

The hallways were dark, but she noticed a subtle glow of light in the kitchen as she approached it. Tiptoeing to the doorway, she peeked inside and saw a boy standing in front of the refrigerator. He was a few inches taller than her, his skin the color of coffee with a lot of extra cream. A few days worth of stubble accented his sharp features, and his thick hair was dark, shorter on the sides than the top. He was fit, with broad shoulders and muscular arms. His gray shirt hugged his chest, the short sleeves shoved up to his shoulders. There was ink on his right arm, a tattoo she couldn't make out in the darkness, and he had on a pair of pants identical to the ones she wore.

He drank juice from a glass, unaware of her presence, and Haven took a step back to flee. The movement caught his eye, and he turned in her direction, the drink slipping from his hand when he spotted her standing there. It hit the floor and shattered, the spray of liquid soaking his pants.

Jumping back, he looked down at himself in shock. “Shit!”

The word sent Haven into a panic, and she darted forward to clean up the mess. He bent down the same moment Haven dove at his feet, and their heads collided. The force knocked him backward, a piece of jagged glass stabbing him when he caught himself on the floor. He cursed again as blood oozed from the gash and stuck his wounded thumb into his mouth. She noticed, as she looked at him, that he had a scar running through his right eyebrow, nearly slicing it in half.

His gaze lifted, a pair of vibrant green eyes greeting Haven. Intense passion swirled in the color that took her breath away. She broke eye contact, her chest tightening as she snatched some napkins to clean up the juice. Tears streamed down her cheeks as she pushed the glass into a pile, but she was disrupted when his hand grasped her wrist. She yelped at the zap of static electricity, and he blinked rapidly, just as caught off guard.

“What’s wrong with you?” he asked, clutching her tightly.

“I’m so sorry,” she said. “Please don’t punish me.”

“Why the hell would I punish you?”

Before she could get out another word, the overhead light flicked on. Both of them winced from the sudden brightness as Dr. DeMarco’s harsh voice rang out. “Let her go!”

The boy dropped her wrist so fast it was as if he’d been burned. “Sorry,” he said, the word barely audible as he climbed to his feet.

Haven sat there, struggling to breathe, as Dr. DeMarco poured a glass of water from the faucet and handed it to her. “Drink,” he commanded. She forced the water down and gagged, her stomach more interested in expelling its contents instead. “What happened here?”

They replied at the same time, their voices answering in sync. “It was an accident.”

“It won’t happen again, sir,” Haven continued. “I’m so sorry.”

Dr. Demarco glanced between them, blinking a few times. “It’s not often I have two people accepting blame around here.”

As if on cue, the boy spoke again. “Yeah, well, it wasn't really my fault. She scared me. She's like a fucking ninja or something.”

Dr. DeMarco pinched the bridge of his nose. “Watch your mouth, son. Go get ready for school.”

He started to argue, but Dr. DeMarco’s hand shot up to silence him. The sudden movement startled Haven, and she recoiled from them, bracing to be hit.

The boy eyed her strangely. “What the hell's wrong with—?”

“I said go,” Dr. DeMarco said. “I don't have time for you.”

“Fine, what-the-fuck-ever.”

Dr. DeMarco turned to Haven as the boy stormed out. “He isn't usually so... well, never mind; that's a lie. He is usually like this. He’s finicky and angry, but that's neither here nor there. He's set in his ways, and it doesn't matter what I do. Carmine is who he is.”

Carmine
. A strange name for a strange boy.

Dr. DeMarco held his hand out to her, and she took it carefully, stunned by the gesture. He helped her to her feet. “Why are you up so early, anyway? I figured you'd sleep most of the day to recover.”

“I didn't know what time I was supposed to get up.”

“You get up whenever you get up,” he said. “You can go back to bed now.”

“But what about—?”

He didn't let her finish. “I'll handle this. Don't worry about doing anything today. Just rest.”

Chapter 2

“I need a favor.”

Sighing, Carmine stepped past his father, refusing to acknowledge he’d spoken. The scent of freshly brewing coffee was strong in the kitchen as Vincent cleaned the mess from the floor. The knees of his newest Armani suit were soaked with juice, and Carmine felt a tiny bit of satisfaction from that fact.

“Are you ignoring me now, son?”

“Oh, are you talking to me? I thought you didn’t have time for me this morning.”

Vincent stood up. “I certainly don’t have time for your attitude, but I do need a favor.”

“Of course you do.”

Vincent pulled a piece of paper out of his pocket and handed it to him. “Ask Dia if she’ll grab this stuff after school today. I’d do it myself, but I know nothing about the things teenage girls need.”

Carmine laughed. “I don’t think Dia knows shit about teenage girls, either.”

“She knows enough,” he said. “Just do it, please. It’s important.”

Carmine folded the paper and shoved it into his pocket. “Whatever. Is it for the ninja girl? Who is she, anyway?”

“Do you honestly care?”

“No.” The word came out before he even gave it any thought. The truth was she’d caught him off guard. He wasn’t sure what to think.

“Then I suppose it doesn't matter who she is,” Vincent said. “Regardless, she needs things, so don't forget to ask Dia.”

“I heard you the first time,” he said. “It would've been nice to have some warning you were bringing someone here, though. This morning wouldn't have happened if you'd have told me.”

Vincent quirked an eyebrow as he poured some coffee into his travel mug. “Oh, so we're going to blame me now? And I don't owe you an explanation, son, but the fact of the matter is I didn't know she'd be coming back with me.”

“Well, where'd she even come from?”

“I thought you didn't care.”

“I don't.”

“Then it doesn't matter where she came from,” he said. “All that matters is she's here now so you're going to have to learn to live with it.”

“Whatever.”

“Whatever,” Vincent mimicked him, shaking his head. “It’s nice to see all that money I paid to send you to Benton Academy made you more articulate.”

Carmine shuddered at the mere mention of that place.

He’d landed in serious trouble the year before—trouble that could've ruined his life—but his father had pulled some strings to get him out of it. He hadn't exactly been forgiving, though, and shipped him to an all-male boarding school across the country for a semester. Carmine swore the moment he was back on the plane heading home that nothing like it would ever happen again, but it was a lot easier said than done. He never went looking for it, but trouble seemed to find him every time he turned a corner.