Chapter 55 – Frosty Predicament, Bozeman Christmas (Samson Conrad POV) Pt.3

"Before we go back in there," Luca voices, "about going back to Bend... Honestly, that is the worst idea out there," I nod in agreement. "The way we've left, then the Den... popping back up will raise some questions."

I roll my eye at that one, "raise some questions?" I snort, "Don't you mean, more questions."

It was always a battle my father said. We wanted to live in a town small enough so we knew when danger was present, but not overly populated that we had to be constantly on edge. Yet still large enough that our strange behaviors would not capture the eye of humans.

Bend was the best of both words with the population under ninety thousand. Still, the manner in which we've left was – in my opinion – attention attracting.

Humor aside I shelf my plans for Fatima. "What going back to Bend?" I focus us.

"I have a friend, he doesn't live in Bend, he lives in the next town over. But that's not important. I've known him for years, since I was twelve. He is trustworthy. He knew about Imogen and I, and," Luca licks his lips, "He knows that I'm a Werejaguar."

Eyes wide, I gape at him.

"You told him? Or did he figure it out?" I question, brows scrunched together.

"I told him years ago," Luca gestures, flicking his wrist. "He's trust worthy, I can have him go get the book and he won't mind," I lift a brow, but shake my head. "I don't – look I think we need to cut our losses," I shrugged.

Running a hand over his face Luca groans. "While you were being sick, I took the phone from Faith and your dad told me that the reason they truly decided to leave wasn't just the letter we left. My dad is planning on calling the Elders and I just feel as though... if he does that," listening I pay close attention to not just the words Luca was saying but his posture.

I'm not sure he realized that he had two, one helpful to distinguish just who was speaking; relaxed, sluggish, Luca or when he was standing tall and stiff – Rhys.

"At this point with what little information we knew coming here from Zedwood," see. Rhys. "There is no way that the Elders aren't aware of Jaxun and while we want to capture Jaxun, others might try to siphon his black matter energy. It's all evil and nothing good can from absorbing his residual evil."

I take a moment to swallow the information shared.

"Your dad also informed us..." Luca sags, he loses an inch in height. He's the one speaking now. "You know how Faith says about the Loyalist and Independents?" I nod.

"Well, that part might be true. Since leaving Bend he's learned that the Elders have an army. With people who do their bidding, are completely loyal and dedicated to a cause – helping the Elders be the end all of power."

Ah, damn it.

It takes less than five seconds for me to read between the lines of what Luca says. My head hangs back, and exhaling, I watch my breath in the cold air.

"If he calls them, basically there is a good chance the Elders get their hands on this book." Perfect.

When I finally make eye contact with Luca again, his face is devoid of any emotion.

"My biggest concern is what that book may say about Zedwood, what on earth is really holding that world steady, because the energy force to do that has to be great. That book... while I thought it silly that Nick paid millions for it, with new information, this book is older in terms of how long the six Souls have been here on Earth."

"It's you've been here less time than the book has been here?" I ask squinting.

Nick nods sharply once. "An old book with codes, it didn't seem strange but hindsight," Luca swallows thickly.

"My friend, he works at the hospital. Like Imogen, he has no family; they died in a skiing incident. He is trust worthy, and I'm not saying that as a human, I'm saying that as Rhys. I've tested Rafael repeatedly-" glancing around Luca, my eyes shift back towards him swiftly.

"He knows about Rhys?" I ask in a hushed whisper.

A part of me stands shocked while the other berates myself. I placed all my trust in Taylor and she murdered my brother, I think waiting for his response. We welcomed Taylor in... I shake my head forcefully, attempting to shake the thoughts away. I didn't want to think about her right now.

"You have to understand... my father isn't like yours," Luca starts crossing his arms against his chest. "Nick is a cold bastard. My mother is a well-programmed robot. It," he clears his throat, "It wasn't always like that but by the time that I was at age sixteen, I spent a lot of time at Raf's place with his family."

"He has been more of a brother to me than my own brother... and I could trust him enough to tell him I'm Rhys, and I've told no one else," he stresses, pointing an index finger at no one. The air whipping around us picks up and flakes start dancing their unique dance.

Overloaded, I nod, but walk away, heading inside. Thankfully, I do so without an audience, grabbing a fresh set of clothes, bathroom products and head up for another shower to take away the smell and olfactory reminders of grief coating my skin.

Hot water pelts against my skin. I lean my head back under the spray, holding my breath, until it feels impossible and I gasp turning, grabbing soap and scrubbing the memories away – or trying to.

After an extended shower time, just trying to leave all my pain in this bathroom, I get out, wrapping a towel around my waist and brushing my teeth. Steam all around me, fogging the mirror, I wipe at it, just looking straight ahead.

I'm so sorry Silas, I think, as for a just a second I see my brother standing over my shoulder.

"Samson, Silas why don't you two boys go ask Taylor to play with you?" Mom points over to a small girl, smaller than Silas and I. "She's your age boys," mom adds while Silas groans.

The memory plays like a movie in my mind. "Do you want to play with us?" a younger me asked, after pulling Silas along, "That's Silas, I'm Samson," I point at his chest, then my own.

That's when it all started. When mom told us to welcome her. Their family showed up.

I don't remember much but I do remember the excitement in her eyes when we included her. Or that she never complained with about whatever games Silas and I wanted to play.

Sleepovers.

Movie night.

Family vacations.

Drying off, it suddenly hits me that if my heart was this heavy with guilt, my parents, theirs must be overflowing. In a haze, almost programmed with instructions I dress.

A battle is fought and at the end, I begin making a list of the necessary supplies.

A tree. Not the store bought kinds. The ones that fill the room with a potent aroma of pure outdoors and pine, like at home.

Lights, icicle lights specifically. The ones that sparkle, Fatima likes them. They remind her of the stars.

Fully clothed, I leave the room with the intention of creating a list of Christmas movies that we'd watch – something I did with my siblings. A marathon. Going through the motions Luca, Imogen, Fatima and I leave Sun Valley quietly.

I drive, remaining subdued for hours. Fatima and Imogen remain in the back, researching Williamstown, Massachusetts to death. At this point, they were now just searching news articles from as far back as they could find them.

"It's risky but we have to find some way to get it," Fatima says as I check into a conversation that I had been ignoring just two hours from Bozeman. "Just because I remembered Wyatt telling me to run as soon as I remembered what happened, doesn't mean he did not say leave the book, or not mention it. He might have, but I'm the one that cannot recall the memories in order."

After not paying attention for I don't know how long, all it takes is that one sentence to figure out what's being discussed. Licking my lips, I roll my neck, no longer remaining like a statue behind the wheel.

"Luca has a friend," my voice cracks from not being used, and my tongue feels dry and heavy in my mouth. Clearing my throat, I repeat myself adding more. "One that can drive up to Montana, right?" I ask glancing at Luca beside me, returning my gaze to the white covered path.

Shocked or maybe he's forgotten mentioning his friend Rafael to me, Luca takes a minute before he turns in his seat facing me. "Yeah, uhm, I have a friend..." and so it continues.

In the mean time, I ponder, searching my mind endlessly for answers. Why would Taylor harm Silas? We had been friends with one another, and it's not as though this could have been done in self-defense.

She came over that day, the one Silas went flying, I recall. I had almost decided for us all to go, telling her that Silas was reckless, but Taylor convinced me otherwise.

At that thought my shoulders grow heavy with the weight of my responsibility. It's invisible as it always is. You cannot see it openly on another, but that doesn't mean they don't carry it inside them.

When an ache starts building, my temples throbbing, I sigh in relief that we've arrived in Bozeman. Starving, stiff and spaced out in my own head, when I finally turn back to get a glimpse of Fatima I find her curled up on the back chair, hand gripping her stomach, eyes closed.

Shifting my eyes to Imogen, she shrugs, "I'm betting cramps."

Still fast asleep, Fatima mumbles in that way she does when she's dreaming, or recalling a memory.

"Twust saw-her." I wonder what she's dreaming of now?

~ 0 ~

Luca and I enter the local Wal-Mart, keeping our head down, hoods up, throwing everything I mentally added to the list. Extra clothes since we didn't have much, food for a week since we'd be spending Christmas in Bozeman and as we were passing the cosmetics and pain medication, I stop and pick up Fatima heating pads.

Unsure which ones were good, but knowing that I had seen my sisters throw them in the cart at least once a month. Not to mention the number of times they'd text or call my brothers and I to pick them up for them.

With two full carts, Luca and I head to the registers, waiting in lines that feel as though they're getting longer instead of shorter. Sighing, I lean on the handle of my cart, resting my head on my forearms. Besides me, Luca begins chuckling. Peaking at him, he grins further... "Can you imagine we buy all this stuff," he waves at the two carts, "and there's no house in Bozeman," and he continues chuckling while I give him my best-deadpanned stare.

Seriously?

Growling under my breath, Luca only chuckles harder as we inch up towards the register conveyer belt. "Look," he says more seriously, under his breathe, no human could hear, "I know you're dealing with a lot, and if you want to vent, you can Samson... not only is Faith here for you but so am I, Imogen too."

Though I don't meet his gaze, I do nod. Would I take him up on his offer? I don't know. What I wanted were answers. Hell I'd take one. Why did you do it Taylor? That's all. I'd want honesty but at this point, I think that was asking for more than she could give me.

Then there was the part of me that dreaded the honest answer being; Silas was always hanging around with you and I... I wanted you. He was in the way. Was that her likely answer? Probably. Especially since she said she's loved me since she was a little girl.

Ugh. The thought turns my stomach.

Inhaling deeply, head down, the hairs on the back of my neck raise, and I quickly snap my head up intent on matching the person to the Fae scent I unmistakably caught. Instead, I remember that humans surround me and the last thing I could do is start sniffing the air.

"There are Fae's here," I mutter under my breath, "two or three," I add after inhaling deeply and tasting the air once more. Aware now, Luca spins naturally in the crowd of shoppers, his eyes scanning.

Too many around us, we start placing our items on the conveyer belt, finally checking out. Hurrying out but aware that we weren't the only supernatural in Bozeman, and that there could be many more.

Paying, we walk, on edge back to our car where Imogen and Fatima waited. Where maneuvering the carts and Imogen has yet to open the door from the inside so Luca taps twice on the screen, and a few beats later Imogen opens the back hatch, and simultaneously the door to the back. Keeping watch now, I only spare her a quick glance ready to search the parking lot area.

However the second my head turns, I register the morose, pinched and red rims that was Imogen's face. Though she tried to play it off, avoid eye contact with Luca and I, it was clear to see that something had rocked or bothered her. "What's wrong?" Luca blurts out quicker than I can.

As though she cannot trust her voice, Imogen just shakes her head, forcing a smile that even to me looks painful and strained.

"Imogen?" Luca whispers, concern coating her name. She repeats her first answer, and starts reaching for the bags I held in my hand. Luca stands still for a minute before snapping back, and picking bags up, and filling the car up. Each time casting a troubled-filled peek in Imogen's direction until the car is packed, and I push the cart back to the cart holder.

The tension that builds in the car becomes stifling by the time we arrive the house in Bozeman. As with the others we hit a path that hasn't been plowed or driven on. Away from town and hidden between trees, a private escape from humans, we pull up to the electric fence.

As Fatima is just waking, blinking away sleep, Imogen jumps out and gets the gate open entering the code. "She's acting weird? Right? It's not just me?" Luca asks perplexed and nervous. "What do you think?" he doesn't offer the chance for me to answer the first round of questions he fires at me.

"I mean – yeah – her eyes were a bit red and it appeared that she might have been crying," I say slowly, watching Imogen as she tries to wipe her face without us seeing but I do. Pulling into the driveway I go silent when Imogen hops back in the car.

I've barely made it to the entrance of the garage when she bolts from the truck, pushing the garage opener and hurrying inside. In the light this time when she wipes at her face, even Luca catches the tears falling silently. Yet, before he can ask her what is wrong, again, Imogen takes control. "Okay well... so far... I guess this house is pretty much the same when it comes to the air purification systems," she says offhand, voice quivering as she points upward to the holes above us.

I nod quietly going to Fatima.

"You okay," I whisper near her ear when she leans against my body sleepily. "Even my back hurts," she answers just as hushed, with more of a strain.

"I bought you some things I saw my sisters using..." I offer weakly. Leaving Luca to stare at Imogen as she ignores him, I mind Fatima. "You were dreaming," it's not a question.

"Yeah, uhm, Wyatt was telling me about his family," she answers sleep still in her voice, words a fine line from being slurred.

"Okay let's get you inside," I say trading holding her against me, for her casted hand. Slowly, we peer inside the house, taking in the same concrete gray walls from before, just with a different layout than the home in Sun Valley. I do not say it, but by the time we make it to the kitchen, then the movie room like the other home, I decide that Dmitri did in fact prepare for what Fatima saw.

The kitchen overlooked a drawing room, and while in the other house the dining room was part of the kitchen, this house had a room, housing a long table that could easily fit twenty to thirty people. Comfortably.

With the same gray walls and silverish gray sofa, Fatima sits in the end spot, curling her body on the furniture after we've removed the white sheets covering everything.

I return to help Imogen and Luca unload the car doing so with this elephant in the room until finally an hour later while Luca begins working on dinner, he drops the pots onto the stovetop harder. "Okay, what did I do Imogen? What's wrong?" in all fairness, unlike when Fatima pushed away from me, she did so silently, hiding, her face blank.

Imogen on the other hand? Tears – one by one – were slipping down her face despite watching her trying to fight to let her feelings out.

I'm stirring something for Luca, my eyes darting to the door, wondering if I should make an escape. Give them privacy.

Instead, silently, Imogen picked up the laptop from the table and walks over to Luca. Her tears coming quicker, falling in big fat drops onto her gray sweater turning the gray darker in those places.

"I'm so, so s-sorry, Luca-" Imogen choked out, eyes filled with bright redlines, blonde hair framing her face. Frowning, Luca looks to me, then back at Imogen as she opens the lid to the computer, screen facing Luca and I.  

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© 2016 roxann_season All Rights Reserved

Three most asked questions: 

How did I come up with this story line? & Where do I get inspiration from? (So these two can be answered together). Actually... believe it or not when I was in second grade, I remember sitting facing the hallway. So from where I was sitting, I could look out into the hall. There was a girl, she was one grade above me. And I would switch rooms so for maybe two hours because I tested ahead in reading and math so I would be in her classroom for those two lessons. But sometimes she would come and then for maybe a month she did not show up. So I'm in class one day and she is being dragged into the school by her parents and a few other people. The memory is fuzzy but the VP and a few others were trying to calm her. Anyways basically from third grade to eighth she would start coming to school. Stop coming. Then it would be a repeat of that whole kicking and screaming bloody murder when she had to come to school. Turns out she has Agoraphobia. (Agoraphobia is a stress/anxiety disorder). 

So... fast forward to now; and I was thinking of how to weave Faith's importance and I just remembered that girl from elementary/high school and really it all just clicked. Not so much the agoraphobia that the girl from school had but more the belief that you have about some thing and how that girl struggled. I mean we learn where Faith's fear stemmed but for a long time I know readers were like... okay where? why? how? huh? tell me! tell me! LOL. 

How do I deal with writers block? I decided that I would set time aside to write. So... I did that. Everyday. Thinking of small goals helps. I mean it's the same thing you might hear someone tell a person that wants to lose weight. Or they make New Years Resolutions but cannot keep it up... To not get overwhelmed I write a bit everyday. I still get blocked but only because sometimes I have the words for one story and not the other. Bottom line I have never set out to write the next big series like Twilight, Divergent or Hunger Games. It's about writing a little bit each day, and using everything around me to help (i.e. sounds, nature... reading... music.) 

Anyways. That is all.