Tempted by Evil (20 page)

“I started at your apartment, thinking that was the most obvious place to find you, but when you weren't there, and nobody at the café had seen you, I started to panic a little. I drove everywhere I could think of, all the while stopping back at your place to see if you'd shown up yet.”

The gas light flashed in the dashboard, giving a quick beep of warning. He laughed a tiny bit too hard at it when it did.

“I had nearly a full tank when I set out to find you.”

“I'm sorry, Julian―”

“You said you went to a 'safe place' when you ran out of the convent. Where did you go?”

“The ocean,” I replied wistfully.

“Why? Why there? Why didn't you come to me? I would have helped you.”

“I don't know what to say,” I whispered. “I don't remember much about where I was, or how long I was there for. I don't even remember how I got home. All I remember was
needing
to go to the ocean and then Merrick standing in front of me in my room. The rest is just . . .
gone
.”

“You don't think you . . . ?” he said suggestively, implying a scenario that I hadn't even considered.

“Oh my God, Julian. Are there others?”

“Not that I know of, but I'm concerned, Aspen. What you did to Mother Superior was self-defense, but if you hurt anyone else . . . Let's just not worry about that for now. Time will tell on that front soon enough,” he said softly, rubbing his hand comfortingly along my thigh. “Now, about this Merrick―”

“It's not like that,” I protested before hearing him out.

“I know it isn't for you,” he replied, eyeing me tightly with a sideways glare. “But I don't trust this guy. I've never seen him. Met him. And how did he know where you were? Or get into your apartment? Is he
following
you? Who knows what he saw, Aspen. He might go to the police with this.”

“He knows,” I said with a hollow voice. “I told him about that too. He knows everything you know.”

“Jesus, Aspen! You hardly even know this guy.”

“I hardly know you,” I cried, feeling like a failure of epic proportions, “yet I've told you everything a person could know about me. You’ve known from the beginning about the strangers, the voices, and now all of this.”

A look of hurt or disappointment flickered across his face before Julian jumped right back into the conversation.

“That's different, Aspen. You can trust me―we can get you back on your meds,” he said, taking his eyes off the road to look at me. “But this guy . . . who knows who he is or what he's up to? I don't like it. I think you should steer clear of him.”

His hand gently brushed my hair over my shoulder, exposing my neck. With his eyes still on me, he lightly stroked a line to my jaw, then my cheek. My eyes closed instinctively. Why had I not noticed how amazing his touch was before?

“I think you're overreacting,” I told him softly, leaning into his caress slightly.

“I might be, but until I know any different, I really don't want you anywhere near him, okay? Will you do that for me? Please?” His voice was so filled with genuine concern for me. How could I argue with him? I knew practically nothing about Merrick, and what I did know was a jumble of enigmatic moods peppered with dark, brooding, and domineering behavior. All that considered, something about him made me think he wouldn't hurt me, but given the fragile state of my mind, I wasn't sure I was the best judge of that.

“Okay,” I sighed softly, conceding to his wish. “I'll stay away from him until we get all of this sorted out.”

“That's my girl.”

The lights were off at his parents’ home when we pulled up, just as they should have been. It was far too early for them to have been up. Without much regard for how much noise we made, Julian and I entered the home's main entrance. My body craved sleep, but my mind was a jumble of questions―not voices―the greatest of which was whether or not I had truly had a break with reality. Perhaps I had made everything up: what Mother Superior told me, the strange messages from strangers in the street, the Shadow,
everything.
The medication I had unknowingly been on had kept all of those things at bay for years―my whole life, maybe.

My stomach churned at all the possibilities.

“Aspen,” Julian called from ahead of me in the hallway. “Come here, please.”

“But my room is down there,” I replied, pointing to the guest room I'd stayed in before.

“I know,” he said with a curl forming at the corner of his mouth. “But tonight, your room is in here.” He nodded to his bedroom once before entering it, expecting me to follow behind, and that's exactly what I did.

The room was extremely masculine and modern, which didn't match the feel or décor of anything else in the home. It seemed as though it would have suited a swanky New York City loft apartment more than a small-town New England Victorian. The walls were pale and there was very little furniture, though the room was surprisingly expansive. Occupying the wall space, there were a few abstract oil paintings and a mirror―no family photos or personal effects that I could find. It seemed surprisingly sterile to me, especially given the inviting nature of his family and his home.

In the center of the room was a massive bed, beautifully dressed in white linens. It was low in profile, but rather vast in width. Before I could take in much else, Julian took my hand in his and led me toward the centerpiece of the room and sat me down gently on the edge of it.

“You look nervous,” he said as that smile continued to tug at his lips. “Don't be. That's not what I'm looking for, Aspen.”

“I'm not nervous,” I replied, trying to slow my breathing.

“I just want to be near you, that's all.”

He lightly trailed his index finger along my cheek, catching a stray hair along the way and tucking it behind my ear with great care.

“I want to be near you too.”

“You have no idea how happy that makes me, Aspen.”

Without skipping a beat, he scooped me up and laid me down on the bed, positioning himself lightly on top of me. His lips were on mine, kissing me deeply, and, in all my awareness of the situation, I couldn't find cause to stop him. Our behavior was wrong, but I didn't care. He loved me, and I wanted to know what that felt like, even if only in that small way. I kissed him back tentatively, unsure of what to do. His mouth guided mine expertly and soon put my concerns aside.

*

After we kissed for what seemed like forever, I snuggled into his embrace, absorbing all of the warmth and comfort it had to offer, but I still didn't feel right. The questions continued to rage in my mind.

“Julian,” I whispered, uncertain if he was still awake.

“Yes, Aspen?”

“Do you think I'm crazy?”

“No, of course not.”

“Do you think I'm going to condemn the world?”

“No,” he replied, sadness tainting his words, “I don't think you're going to condemn the world.”

“You don't believe me then, do you?”

“I believe that you believe it, Aspen,” he said with a reassuring squeeze, “and that's all I need to know. Tomorrow we'll figure out how to keep you out of trouble with the police.”

He gently turned me to face him before he said his final words.

“Tomorrow we'll make it all go away.”

It still seemed a luxury to sleep in so late, having never been able to indulge in that manner at the convent growing up, but given my level of fatigue and mental weariness, it was well warranted. I'd awoken to a gentle kiss on my forehead when Julian made his way to the bathroom. A whoosh of water started up behind the closed door, and as the sound of the water tried to lull me back to sleep, I slowly pushed myself out of bed, inspired by a thought I'd had.

“Breakfast,” I whispered to myself. “Something unexpected . . .”

Trying to be as silent as possible, I collected my things and slipped on my tennis shoes before tiptoeing out the door, closing it softly behind me. I knew just the place to go. It was on the far side of town and would take me longer than I wanted to walk there, but I had long seen the most delightful pastries in their window, and I wanted―
needed
―to say thank you to the man who had talked me off a ledge just hours before. Though I fought to suppress my growing anxiety regarding Mother Superior, I still had a thrum of nervousness about the consequences of my actions. But Julian had said we would figure it out, and I believed him.

I didn't pass anyone on my way out, but his family home was so enormous that it wasn't entirely surprising. Making my way across the driveway, I decided to jog to the bakery, if only to speed up my trip. Part way there, I realized that I should have left a note so that Julian wouldn't be concerned that I'd gone mad again and was off killing people in town. The ironic and unsettling part about that potential scenario was that if what I heard Mother Superior say
was
actually said at all, and, beyond that, if it
was
true, I was likely to kill everyone in town anyway, only far more expeditiously. I wasn't sure that a note would have done much to put his mind at ease.

With a shudder, I poured on speed and moved quickly into town.

Minutes later, I arrived at the bakery and breathlessly made my way inside. After ordering, I realized that my money was in my coat pocket, and it was still lying on the floor next to Julian's bed where I'd thrown it at some point in the night. Frustrated with my inefficiency, I apologized to the proprietor and schlepped my way back outside.

It was strange.

I hadn't noticed it on the way there because I was so focused on getting to my destination quickly and returning before my absence was noted, but
nobody
was in the street. Not a soul could be seen anywhere. Beyond that, there was no breeze, no birds―not a single noise. The tiny hairs on the back of my neck came alive and the panic started to build.

“Pull it together, Aspen,” I muttered to myself, preparing my legs for the long run home.

“Yes, Aspen,” an eerily familiar voice called out from behind me. There hadn't been anyone there seconds earlier. “Pull it together.”

I whirled around, managing to trip over a large crack in the sidewalk and land in a pained heap. When I finally fought my hair out of my line of vision, I was paralyzed by what it unveiled. Standing before me was a near-perfect replica of myself.

“Who are you?” I whispered, barely able to speak at all.

“Who are
you
?” she replied. Her expression was blank.

“What do you want from me?”

“What we all want from you.”

“
We
?” I asked, looking around frantically. “
We
who?”

“The moon is coming,” she continued, not making any sense. “A light in the darkness. A light that stands against the shadow threatening to engulf it.”

“What are you talking about?” I asked as I shakily stood.

“What are
you
talking about?” she countered, looking as frustrated as I knew I did.

“Nothing,” I snapped, pushing myself up off of the ground. I shut my eyes and continually told myself that it wasn't me; I wasn't losing it. My mind was only playing tricks on me. I just needed to get home to Julian. Everything would be okay if I could just get to him.

“Nothing,” she echoed, grabbing my arm. “That's what will be left. It's time, don't you feel it? The eve is here.”

“Eve of
what
?”

“Eve of adulthood,” she replied matter-of-factly. “When the light and shadow will war within and the choice will be made.” She leaned in uncomfortably close to me and continued to ramble on. “Does your moon still shine, Aspen? Or does the darkness of your sky swallow it whole?”

“My moon?” I asked incredulously. “Eve of adulthood? What does that have to do with anything?”

“The eve is here, Anathema. Your time has come. You've set the stage. But how will your story end?”

She looked over her shoulder quickly, snapping her gaze back to me almost immediately. She looked frightened and frantic.

“The eve of eighteen,” she said, grabbing my arm violently. “It's here. Tonight!”

Without another disturbing utterance, she took off running down the road, away from me and away from whatever she'd seen that had scared her so. Wanting to know exactly what that was, I looked over in the general direction of where her gaze had fallen. My breath caught in my throat when I found exactly what had caused her fear.

He stalked toward me with anger blazing in his impossibly green eyes, and as my heart jumped into my throat, I turned around and ran as fast as my legs could carry me home. I took back alleys and side streets to avoid his pursuit. In my retreat, I tried to process what my doppelgänger had told me, little of which made any sense, but one thing continually tugged at my mind.
The eve of adulthood . . . eve of eighteen.
What did it all mean?

She too had called me Anathema, just as Mother Superior had, but if the eve of eighteen was referencing the day before my birthday, then surely they both were wrong. I could not be what they thought I was. I was already an adult. My birthday had already passed.