Chapter 9: Blackest Hour

(TOMBSTONE THREE)

“Listen,” Dominique says the next morning at breakfast. “I need to tell you something before we leave.”

Blaire stares at the eggs and bacon on her plate, wondering how she’s going to get them down her throat without vomiting. The food looks glorious, but the nightmare still lingers in her mind. She hardly slept at all. By the time he arrived, she was already up for hours, having packed everything she wanted to take. She even took a long soak in the bath, hoping that between the warm water, sandalwood candle, and jasmine soap, she’d feel cleansed in mind, body, and soul. She left the bathroom refreshed, but it didn’t last long.

It’s true that you take yourself with you, even while trying to escape.

“What is it?” she asks without looking up from the food.

“You don’t look well at all,” he says.

Blaire lifts her eyes to his face and tries to smile cutely. She knows it is a failure because he lifts an eyebrow at her.

“You can’t fool me.”

She rolls her eyes at him. “It’s been a long, dark night,” she says. “Sorry for spoiling your bubbly mood with all my melodrama.”

He snickers. The sound is loud in the quiet room. They are the only people up this early. Or maybe they are late, and everyone else already ate.

“Do you want to talk about it?”

Blaire sighs, poking the egg yolk with a fork. The thin white layer bursts open, allowing the yellow to run out freely. It’s exactly the way she loves it, but there is no appetite enticing her to eat.

“You will need the nourishment while on the road,” he says, gesturing to her food. “I know you know this, because we are both people who travel a lot and have learned the lessons that the road teaches those who use it often.”

Blaire pokes a slice of toast on a side plate with the fork and moves it to her plate. She lifts her knife, letting it hover above the bowl with butter for a moment. Deciding against it, she cuts into the toast, and uses a piece to soak the yolk before popping it into her mouth. It tastes as glorious as it looked. She slices another piece off, repeating the process until the egg and bacon are gone.

“Do you know where you’re going?” he asks. “I haven’t really decided exactly where I’m going yet, as long as it has a beach. Might as well swing the nose of my car in the direction you’re heading and see how it goes.”

“I’m going home,” she says.

Saying the words out loud somehow makes them more real. She is going home. She’ll see The Farm again. Walk where she used to play as a child. Visit the graveyard to speak to ancestors. Hug the people she loves. Hear the voices of her childhood. Smell the soil. Walk through the orchards. Touch the trees. Eat food that grew in gardens she planned and dug irrigation ditches for.

“You don’t seem as happy as you should be.”

“Truthfully, I’m not sure about how to feel about it. It’s been a long time, and I left without goodbyes. Plus, it feels kind of unreal. I think it’s going to take some time before it sinks into my bones.”

“Let me guess, you left under the worst circumstances.”

“I asked them to pack us a picnic basket for lunch,” she says, ignoring his subtle opening for her to share more. “Let’s talk about this in the car where nobody can hear. I also need a moment to center myself. I haven’t spoken about it in a long time.”

She pays the bill for the hotel in full, telling them to get rid of whatever is still in the room. Dominique drags her suitcase out to the car. She follows with the picnic basket and a bag with her most precious belongings. A photo of her, Luka and Gavin. Another with her grandparents and sisters. One with her parents on their wedding day. Also, some of the cash she has on hand, and three sets of identity documents hidden in different pockets of the lining. Each set comes with one credit card to be used only during emergencies. A jacket, if the weather changes, business cards, a few potions and two bottles of water.

“So, explain how exactly does a barman get to drive a black Mercedes S-class,” Blaire says as they load her luggage into the enormous trunk.

He didn’t have a lot of luggage either. Three suitcases that have seen better days, and an apple box with frames. She can’t see if the frames contain art or photos. She doesn’t want to intrude, so refrains from asking.

“It is a birthday gift from one of my boyfriends,” he says while opening her door and motioning to the seat. “It is also the reason I broke up with my last boyfriend and ran here to rest and heal.”

“He didn’t want you to drive this nice car?” she asks when he slips into the driver’s seat.

“He didn’t want me to have souvenirs from previous lovers. He believed the car was a hook to keep me tethered to the ex. It wasn’t. We parted as friends, but there is no way that we’ll ever get together again. He married the woman his wealthy parents forced on him and moved abroad. Plus, we were really spectacular together in the first two years, but grew in different directions. We won’t fit together anymore.”

“Funny that we both ran from exes,” she says.

“You too?” he asks. “I find it hard to believe that a woman like you would have trouble keeping a man at her side or in line.”

“It didn’t end well,” she says, feeling reckless with her expiry date coming up in ten days. “He cheated. I shot him.”

Dominique lifts his left hand into the air, index finger pointing upward. “Now, honey, that part I believe. There is a darkness around you I’ve only seen once before. It was with my uncle, and he killed people too. It haunted him forever, despite it happening during war.”

“He cheated with my sister. Aren’t you scared of riding in a car with a murderer?”

“I didn’t wrong you, did I?”

Blaire chortles, shaking her head from side to side. “Not that I’m aware of.”

“Then I’m not worried,” he says. “I promise not to instigate your murderous traits while we are together.”

She puts her palms together in a prayer gesture. “I thank thee.”

The road stretches out in front of them like a black ribbon. She leans back in the seat, feeling comfortable in his presence, and with his driving. It’s difficult for her to trust others with her safety. For some reason or another, she can relax with Dominique. Maybe it is because of the vibe between them. Or maybe it’s because she knows her life isn’t worth much right now. Not after the dream and the Blood Oath, anyway.

“You seem different this morning,” he says.

“I am different,” she answers. “A lot has happened during the night.”

You might be reading a pirated copy. Look for the official release to support the author.

“It wasn’t even a full night. Just a few hours.”

“I know,” she says. “I had a dream.”

He snorts. “We all did, honey.”

“I had a specific dream with a specific person,” she says. “And we made a deal. Now I can go home for the first time in ten years.”

He whistles. “Fuck, that’s a long time to not go home.”

She nods. “It feels like a lifetime. I never thought I’d go back. It was too dangerous.”

“For you?”

“For me and for them,” she says, looking at him for a reaction to her next words. “My husband was from the Bull Tribe.”

His eyes grow large, and for a moment, his knuckles turn white as he grips the steering wheel harder. She waits patiently for him to speak first. The car moves forward in a straight line. Outside, the sun continues to shine. Green leaves wave at them as they go past. Little flurries of dust rise and fall in a soft wind. People breathe in and out. Somewhere in the world, someone stops inhaling. Maybe several people do. But here, in Dominique’s car, for the first time in ages, Blaire feels content. Accepted.

“Well, that explains why the police never got involved. They’d want to settle the score themselves.”

“Not only was he from the tribe, he was King Vasiliev’s grandson.”

The car swerves out of the lane. The road isn’t busy at all, and he pulls it back quickly. Blaire doesn’t even blink. His reaction is expected and not at all over the top for hearing the words.

“Still want to be in the car with me?” she asks.

“Depends,” he says. “What deal did you make, and with whom?”

She smiles at him. “You don’t question the validity of a deal made in a dream?”

“Do you place value in it?”

“I do, or else I won’t be going home.”

“Then I do too,” he says. “Because we both know this world isn’t always the way we see. There are unspoken words that you need to read between those that people say aloud. There are little expressions and actions that reveal the truth a person wants to hide. There are things in this world that the eyes can’t see and the ears can’t hear.”

“In other words,” she says. “Things are not always what they seem.”

“Yes,” he says.

“What do you read between my lines?”

“Hmmm,” he says. “I see someone that has been out in the cold for too long. Someone who has been alone for too long. Someone who was closed last night, but open today. Right now, you act like someone who has nothing more to lose.”

“All true. In all the years I’ve been running, I haven’t found,” she says, making quotation marks in the air before saying “home.”

“How dark did it get for you?” he asks. “Did you ever buy a razor blade, or stock up on pills? Or a gun, maybe?”

She snickers, rolling her eyes. “None of the above, but that doesn’t mean I didn’t think about it. I definitely got close a few times. It’s just that I have a gift for potions and if I’m going to kill myself, it would be poison, for sure.”

“How close did you get?” he insists.

She turns to look at the landscape through her window, gathering courage to answer his question. He reminded her of granddad. The vibe. The energy. Maybe his and granddad’s souls were siblings or something weird.

“I always thought that people committing suicide had no spine,” she says. “You know, it’s the cop-out for when you don’t want to face the fact that you fucked your life up completely. But that’s shit. It takes a lot of courage. You have to be brave and determined to do it. I chickened out every time. A few nights ago I vaguely thought about it, but I didn’t even bother with getting ingredients together. I knew I couldn’t do it.”

“Isn’t making a promise with your arch enemy just another way of suicide? Because I assume you’re not getting together for a nice cup of Japanese tea,” he says with a sneer. “Bull King is the method you chose this time. More reliable than you chickening out of drinking the poison.”

Blaire opens her mouth to refute the statement, but finds that she can’t. He isn’t wrong. Not at all. She has been in such a dark place since she noticed the upcoming anniversary. Obviously, she catered to King Vasiliev only because dying is what she wants to do. Period.

“Nobody puts Bear in a corner,” grandpa whispers in her ear. “You didn’t have to agree with him. You never gave up this easily.”

“Shit,” she says.

“Now, what are you going to do about that?”

“I don’t know yet,” she answers. “All I know for sure is that I can’t break the promise.”

“If I were in your shoes, I wouldn't either,” he says. “But what exactly did you promise him?”

“I promise to go see him after one last visit home,” she says.

“Well, that doesn’t sound like you agreed to die.”

Blaire laughs, shaking her head from side to side.

“Sure thing. All he’s going to do is tell me not to do that shit again, maybe spank my butt, and then allow me to walk away?”

“That’s not what I said.” Dominique sounds annoyed.

“So, tell me what you are thinking?”

“I’m not sure,” he says. “All I know is that you aren’t the kind of woman to just… well die. You’re not a loser. Sure, you are dealing with some shit and you may have been depro for a long time, but if you survived ten years, you can survive another ten.”

“I’m not sure I’ll call it surviving. More like merely existing.”

“Then you need to re-examine your perception of surviving.”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, you are here. You are alive. You survived.”

“I’m not sure that’s true. I’m a mess.”

“Being a mess has nothing to do with the fact that you survived. You are scarred, you are bruised, even broken in some places. You don’t feel whimsical. You’re in no mood to go dancing in a field of daisies, but you are alive.”

“Fine,” she says. “I’ll give you this one. But surviving until now doesn’t mean I’m a good person. This didn’t happen on merit. I’m not a saint. But I’m not a loser. And I don’t consider myself a sinner either.”

“So, why did you agree so readily to go to a place where you know the chances of death is one thousand percent?”

“Because it’s always the darkest before dawn?”

“Tell me about dawn.”

“Dawn?”

“Well, the fact that you are seeing the ten-year anniversary is not only sad. There is also something empowering about it. You walked this dark road alone and you are still here. You made it. Lots of people would have either not started the walk or given up along the way. Yet, you are still here. This anniversary is your dawn. The light at the end of your tunnel. Your Road to Paradise will end at home.”

“Road to Paradise,” she snorts. “I call it Darkness Returns, because unless I’ve made amends with his people, my ex will come back to haunt me.”

“Shit,” he says, rolling his eyes. “Anyway, where is home for you?”

“I’ll get off at the next large city,” she says. “I’ll jump onto a train. I don’t know if the Bull Tribe will try to grab me on the way. It’ll be easy enough, since now they know where I’m going. I don’t want you to get in trouble on my behalf.”

“The train?”

“Perfect way to travel. Train or bus. Doesn’t require you to show identification or use a credit card. You don’t need to stop for gas either. When you’re on the run, you don’t want to be noticed along the way.”

“You mean you suddenly don’t trust the deal you made?”

“Maybe I don’t,” she says. “I’ll see once I’m home and can discuss it with some of my clan. Usually we all keep to our unspoken rules, but transgressions happen. The Chinese Cartel killed my parents by mistake. They paid retribution with blood and land afterwards, but that means nothing to orphans growing up without parents.”

“I’m sad to hear that, but glad to know you are reconsidering the promise. Don’t go quietly into that dark night,” he answers.

“You reciting Thomas to me, young man?”

“You know Thomas?” he asks, smiling at her. “Oh, wait. Obviously you’re so old, you might have been in the same class as him in school.”

“Are you kidding me?” she says with a scowl. “I’m old enough to be Thomas’ mother.”

“Then why are you worried about the Bull King? It looks like you’ll live forever.”

“Listen,” she says. “Once I’m home, I’ll send you a link. If ever you are in trouble, or even if you just need to run somewhere to heal, go there. Tell them you know me. They’ll ask you some questions about me, and if you answer it truthfully, they’ll treat you like family.”

“I seriously don’t have anywhere to go. I can drive you there and then I’ll know where it is.”

Blaire sighs. “That sounds so nice. If it weren’t for the Bull Tribe actively searching for me…”

“Fine,” he interrupts. “I’ll stop asking and respect your boundaries.”

“Are you an undercover feminist?”

He slaps her knee while laughing loudly. “What do you mean by undercover?”

“Oh, yeah, you’re not undercover at all.”

“Queens are never undercover, no matter where they go.”

“Thanks for not pushing,” she says. “I’ve not been in contact with anyone at home since I left. I’m basically walking in blind.”

“Which is why I volunteered to drive you. You need some emotional support.”

“The only support I need right now is to not be emotionally wrecked by losing a new friend.”

They pass a roadside sign. The next large town is forty minutes away.

“Let’s stop for lunch now,” Blaire says.

An hour later, she watches him drive away. She grabs her suitcase and starts walking towards the ticket counter. Carefully, she looks at the schedule, trying to find something that’ll take her home as soon as possible. All available buses will take three days. Usually this won’t be a problem, but now she wants to spend as much time with family as she can.

“Before you die?” Grandpa's voice bursts into her brain.

Blaire grits her teeth and buys a car for a few hundred bucks from the sidewalk of a house she passes. It’s not a steal at all. It’s a rust bucket with an engine. Inside, it’s covered in yellow stains from someone’s cigarette addiction and Labrador hair. It smells of smoke, stale fast food, and wet dog. She stops at a carwash to have it cleaned and buys a can of room refresher to keep next to her seat. From previous experience, the upholstery will continue to smell bad.

She flips her schedule from day to night. This is something she often does when traveling to escape a close call. Travel by night; sleep by day. The roads are less busy during the night. This has two benefits. You can cover more ground because there is less traffic to negotiate, and it’s easier to notice if you’re being followed.