Monday, May 6, 2013
“And our
top news story tonight; missing girl from the Larkspur murders is possible
spotted in Syringa. More details after the break.”
Monday sat
in a chair in the kitchen, staring at the TV where her face had been moments
before. Everyone in the apartment glanced at the news nervously, but that’s all
they did, no one was fixated on it like her. The apartment was buzzing around
her; Ezra as cooking in the kitchen and talking to Jolene, Bo was hanging out
on the couch and talking to his girlfriend Holly, and Jason; a friend of theirs
and Holly’s dad, was cutting Monday’s hair. It was another part of killing off
the old Monday Caldecott and embracing her new identity; Marie Borne.
The news
story had broken only yesterday and it was already a race to erase Monday from
everyone’s minds. Edith had barraged into the bakery and turned on the news
there, a day later the news was still the same; local girl from Larkspur, who
was presumed dead in a double homicide, was possibly spotted in Syringa. A day
later the news hadn’t changed but everything else had. Monday was put on lock
down.
“It’s a
shame you had to lose your name. Monday was so pretty.” Jolene said, taking a
sip of blood,
“Only on
paper, Edith said I can still go by it, only now it’s just a pet name,” Monday
heard the scissors close to her ear and hoped it wasn’t too short, Edith had
suggested to cut it to change up her appearance. “How’s the hair going Jason?”
“Ezra you
had this girl how long and never thought to get it cut? Her hair is brittle and
full of spit ends,” Jason muttered out.
“How is it
that you sounded gayer then me just now?” Jason held the scissors up to Ezra
and that shut him up.
“Don’t mock
my skills baker boy.” Jason was large bald man who towered over even Ezra. His
shirt bulged under his thick muscles and his arms were covered in tattoos of
various skulls, Holly had explained that each one was for a different target;
he was running out of room as the skulls traveled up his arms and to his neck,
almost forcing you to meet his mean blue eyes. “Hair cutting is a learned art, I
went to school for this shit. I can do a deep conditioning later, first tell me
what you think.”
Jason
handed Monday a mirror, her once long hair now curled right at her chin; it was
a little thing to lose her hair, and yet, it felt like another part of her
being stripped away. Monday gave him a sweat smile, “I like it.”
“Another
good job daddy!” Holly said, jumping up from the couch. Holly was everything
her father wasn’t; she was a bubbly girl who never seemed to sit still; even
her honey hair bounced pulled back behind her. Holly was another Nightling, and
like Bo, was adopted, but you would never know looking at her and Jason. She
looked so much like him, down to the bright blue eyes, it was creepy.
“It looks
nice,” Bo said behind Holly. His head was down and he averted his eyes anywhere
but Monday. Monday didn’t blame him for the attack, after what she did to Mr.
Harris-Thompson Monday could empathize with what he did. Bo looked up at his
mom, “Is breakfast almost done?”
“Almost
done-,” Ezra said as Jason’s phone went off. Jason checked it and grimaced,
“Damn Marcus. The Daylighters moved the meeting up and he needs me today. Jo,
do you mind watching her for a while?”
“Not a
problem.” Jason kissed Holly on top of the head and hurried out. Jason was a
security guard at Genesis tower who moonlighted as Marcus’s bodyguard; what
Marcus needed him for, Monday didn’t ask. Jolene set the table for them to eat,
“Bo changed the channel", I’m tired of the news.”
Bo channel
surfed, skipping reality shows and informersals, when Holly called out for him
to stop. It was a talk show that Monday had never seen, but Monday knew why
Holly wanted to stop. The host; Mira Coast, was talking to a man sitting on a
large couch, above them on a large screen was the cover of a book; Science of
the Dark by Dr. Dakota Franks. Mira Coast smiled threw the screen, “welcome
back to Morning in Syringa. I’m your host, Mira Host. This morning, we’re
catching up with Dr. Dakota Franks, author of the Daily’s Bestselling novel,
Science of the Dark.”
Dr. Franks
was an old man, but looked young or his age. He was a handsome man; his dark
skin was rich against his gray suit, even with flexes of age’s spots on his
bald head. He lend back on the couch with his cane lying on his lap, Mira Coast
had his book open in hers, “I must say Dr. Franks, the anniversary of your book
seems to amaze me. In the last ten years, your book has become a phenomenon.
Did you ever expect it to be popular, not just when it first came out but years
later?”
Dr. Franks
chuckled, “Well people do like their myths. The Nightling, to me, speak more
about what the collective culture up holds. Nightlings are there to provide
justice, to keep the city safe. I think that Syringa likes this idea; after
all, we do live in the safest city. Am I right?”
There was applause
from the audience, Mira Coast smile at them then to Dr. Franks, “You talk about
Nightlings like they really exist. Is there any truth to the book?”
Monday knew
it was a joke, but she could see the twitch in Dr. Frank’s eye. He gave Mira
Coast a wide smile, “My wife Clara runs a hypnosis therapy clinic, some people
believe that it’s a dummy science but you would be surprised; she cured my
snoring after,” The audience laughed, “One man’s myth can be another man’s
reality,”
Just then,
there was a commotion in the audience. The screen quickly flashed to Mira Coast
telling everyone that they would be back after a comersatiol break before a
comersatioal for cat food came on, perking Annabelle’s ears. Ezra looked over
from the kitchen, “Something tells me it’s another Nightwalker, bet Marcus is
laughing his ass off right now.”
“Is he
going to be okay?” Monday asked.
Ezra
chuckled, ‘Nightwalkers are just his obsevesed fans. They believe that the book
is real, that if you read into enough you can find the secret to becoming a
Nightling. Edith finds them hilarious; she says they’re his punishment for
publishing Nightling secrets.”
As they all
sat down for breakfast, Monday couldn’t focus, all she could think about was
the book in her room booked marked on a section in Chapter 8: Cures. Monday had
read it, hoping for a cure, but instead was disappointed to find a short
paragraph on how there’re theories, but that’s it. Monday was hoping to talk to
Dr. Franks, but other than not knowing where he lived, she was on lock down.
Monday had
her chance. Later that day; after Jolene, Bo and Holly left, Ezra was finishing
up a cake that was due that day. Monday was in the corner of the kitchen,
practicing her piping, when Ezra stepped back to admire his work. The cake he
was working on was pale blue with three tires and a lot of daisies falling down
the side. “Three days of making these damn flowers all so it can get eaten in
30 minutes. How’s your work coming along?”
Monday
looked down at her cake, her lines were anything but straight and some of the
icing had fallen off. Ezra ruffled her hair, “You’ll get it. You can practice
some more while I’m gone.”
“Gone?”
Ezra
shrugged, “It’s a small cake and I had to go run a few irons afterwards. I just
figured that you wanted to stay and practice. You can come if you want.”
“NO, I
mean- no, I’m good.” Monday said. Ezra packed the cake up, and as soon as he
pulled out of the ally, Monday locked up. She figured she had a few hours,
which should be enough times to get answers.
For someone
who hid from conspirathy theorist, Dr. Franks didn’t try really hard to hide
where he lived. Monday had found his wife’s practice online and after calling
for an opening, was happy to be able to get in today. Dr. Frank’s wife-also Dr.
Franks, worked out of their home in Genesis Tower. Syringa summers were
relatively cool, letting her hoodie blend in and block her face. She had a few
wired looks from people passing her in suits but, thankfully, no one seemed to
ask why.
The
apartment part of the tower was a different set of elevators. After walking
pass the commercial ones, the elevators were glass and faced out of a large
glass wall that looked out into a garden in the back, pass the valet. Monday
watched the city unfold in front of her as she was lifted higher and higher;
her flour covered clothes made her fell like smog in a crisp blue sky. Down the
hall, where the cream walls matched the tiles, Monday found Apartment 22B. A
knock on the door later, an old woman stood in front of her.
Dr. Clara
Franks had the same look as her husband; she was youthful for her age. She was
a pillar of white, from her pale skin to her pure white hair that fell past her
shoulders onto her wrap dress. The only color she had was her jewelry. Every
part of her, from her ears to her wrist, was covered in what looked to be
polished, colorful rocks, not jems, just wildly colorful rocks. Around her neck
was the only non-colored piece: a simple pentagram. Dr. Franks gave Monday a
big, toothy smile and greeted her in a soft voice, “Welcome Marie. Come in and
make yourself at home.”
Inside the
apartment, Monday was afraid to touch anything. It was a large, spaces place
where everything was black, white, and expensive. Just like Dr. Franks, the
only color was the artwork on the walls and shelves; everything from abstract
pictures to clay sculptures. The only other source of color was the alter in
the corner, decorated with rocks, feathers and candles. “Your home is nice.”
“Thank you,
I made all of the art myself; I fancy myself an artist when I’m not working
with patience.” Dr. Franks caught Monday looking at the altar, “Don’t worry, I
won’t bite; It’s a Pagan altar. If you want to step into the office we can
begin-”
“Actually,
I was kind of hoping to meet with your husband.” Monday said. Monday knew they
were stupid words to say as the friendly demeanor that Dr. Franks had vanished.
Dr. Franks
grabbed Monday by the arm and dragged her to the door, “I will not have any
more lunatics harassing my husband. If you’re not gone-”
“Please,
I’m not one of them Dr. Franks! I’m a Nightling, I know Marcus.” Dr. Franks had
her hand on the door but let go. She turned back to Monday and gave her that
familiar pity look.
“Dakota
should be home soon, I can make you some tea while we wait. And please, call me
Clara,” Monday turned down tea (the sound of the kettle brought back to many
painful memories) but excepted coffee. Clara had just finished showing Monday
the last of her art pieces when the front door opened. In walked the other Dr.
Franks. He walked with a limp inside, with is wooden cane topped with more of
his wife’s art, “How was your day dear?”
“Damn
Nightwalkers. One jumped up in the audience and claimed to be a reborn
Nightling. Who’s this?” He asked, point his cane at Monday. He eyed her,
“You’re not a Nightwalker are you?”
“No, I’m
just a Nightling,” Monday said, like it was a common thing. Dakota came over to
the couch and sat next to his wife, “Are you both Nightlings?”
“That’s why
we met,” Dakota smiled, putting an arm around his wife and kissing her on the
cheek, “Back when there were support groups. It will be 17 years this
September. But, I’m sure that you didn’t come all the way here to hear about us
ramble on. What can I help you with Miss?”
“Borne.”
Monday pulled out Dakota’s book from her bag, “Edith told me about your book
and I just have a question.”
“You track
me down just to ask one question?” Dakota laughed. He grinned at his wife until
he saw the page that Monday held open, the smile failed fast. “I can’t help you
with that.”
“Why not?”
Monday asked, she turned the book back to her and started to read, “All thought
there are many theories, none are know for sure to cure the Nightling curse.
What are the theories?”
“Kid
listen, it’s just a book-”
“It’s not
just a book and don’t call me kid,” Monday stood up, “You wrote this as a guide
for Nightlings, you know what the theories are. I can’t talk to Marcus or Ezra
about this, they won’t understand. You are the only one I can trust to tell me.
I just want to know what my options are.”
Dakota gave
her that stupid look of pity; he held his hand out for her to sit down. Clara
reached over and held her hand, “It won’t do you any good to know, they can’t
help you.”
“But if I
don’t tell you, you’ll just go looking for them yourself.” Dakota said. He took
the book from Monday and turned it to a later chapter, “There are two known
ways. The first is with the Rouges, they’re Nightlings who have disowned
Marcus, and they feed on who they want. They also have come up with a cure to
sell to non-rogues called Anti-dusk. Anti-dusk isn’t a cure, it’s a scam that
only delays the transformation. It’s a tempting few hours of night but it’s not
worth it. I didn’t put it in for a reason, it’s deadly. Every shot is a loaded
gun; you won’t know which one will kill you.”
Monday took
the book back from him, a deadly delay isn’t what she wanted, “And the other
way?”
The Franks
shifted uncomfortable on their couch. Clara let go of Monday’s hand, ‘There has
only been one Nightling who has been cured, the secret however, died with her.”
“Who was
she? Maybe I could find her family and ask them?”
Dakota
shook his head, “Ileana Cleary, Marcus ex-wife. Good luck asking him about
her.”
Something
fell inside Monday; she stood up and hugged her book to her. “Thank you, that’s
all I needed to know.”
She ran to
the door before they could get up. She had reached the elevator before their
apartment door closed behind her. As she waited for the elevator, Monday could
feel her heart racing. She checked her phone; it would be dark in an hour. She
would be a Nightling today, and tomorrow, and the next day. The next week, the
next year, the rest of her life. Monday could feel the blood on her hand.
“What are
you doing here?” Monday wasn’t paying attention to the elevator when they
opened, reveling Sorin holding a large planter, filled with white roses, in his
arms. Monday waited too long and the doors started to close. Instantly, Sorin
reached out to hold them open but his platter slipped out of his hands. Monday
grabbed for it, “Oh shit, you book fell between the crack.”
Monday had
stepped inside right as the doors closed, “It was a dumb book anyway. It won’t
mess up the elevator will it?”
“I’ll call
maintenance when I get back.”
“You can do
that?”
“I live
here,” Sorin said. Monday thought it was a dumb question to ask; why else would
he be in the elevator. Monday still holding onto the pot, her fingers had
intertwined with his. “What are you doing here?”
“I was
visiting a friend,” Monday stumbled out, “Why are you caring a bush?”
“He’s going
to a flower shop,” said a small voice behind. Monday looked over and saw a
small girl with long black hair and purple glasses, holding a patched up gray
bear in her arm. The little girl went around Sorin and pushed the elevator
button, “Sorin said he would take me to the flower shop to drop off his
flowers. He said that he would buy me a daisy, they're my favorite.”
“Her
brother Henry couldn't watch her,” Sorin said, “Chloe, this is my friend
Monday, Monday meet my cousin.”
“Nice to
meet you, I was just visiting a friend,” Monday said, “Why are you taking them
to a florist?”
“We’re
going out of town for a few weeks and he won’t let the house keeper watch them.
I don’t know why, Martha is watching the rest of the plants.” Chloe pulled on
Monday’s shirt and Monday lend down. Chloe whispered in her ear, “Sorins weird,
he talks to his plants.”
Sorin
blushed as the elevator doors opened. It was raining heavily outside, Monday
felt stupid for not noticing. Just as she wondered how she would get home,
lightning struck. She felt shivers down her arms. Monday hated the rain, she
hated the lightning, she hated the thunder, and she hated the cold that made
her nights unbearable in January. “Do you need a ride home? I can take you.”
“If you
wouldn’t mind?” Sorin had the valet pick up his car and soon they came back
with a small silver car, Sorin put the plant in the back seat with Chloe while
Monday slipped into the front. The inside of his car was clean but smelled like
dirt, hanging from the mirror were two necklaces, “Sorry about the smell, I
picked up some mulch for a friend a few days ago.”
“It’s okay.
I didn’t even expect you to drive a car; you seem more like the dashing
motorcycle type.”
Sorin
smiled, “No, I’m more like the hybrid type, it’s better for the environment.”
Chloe lend
forward in her seat and whispered in Monday’s ear, “I told you he was weird.”
As they drove away from Genesis, Chloe spoke up again, “You said a bad word in
the elevator. You have to put a quarter in the jar.”
“I know
Chloe, it was wrong,” Sorin said, then muttered under his breath, “I was hoping
you didn’t hear me.’
“Mommy said
that whenever we say or do something bad, it makes Jesus cry. He died for our sins
and we should not waste the precious gift that is God’s love,” Chloe said, “Can
Scarlet have a flower too? Only she wants a tulip, they're her favorite.”
“Who’s
Scarlet, Chloe?” Monday asked.
Chloe held
up her bear, “Henry gave her to me. She’s coming with us to the Hamptons. We
have a house there. We’re going there for the summer like we always do. Are you
going to, a lot of Henry's friends go?”
“No my
family doesn’t go to the Hamptons, we have to work.” Monday said, hoping that
would appease her. Ezra and Michael were well off but nowhere to the level was
Sorin’s family. Then again, she couldn’t imagine them as the beach type.
Nightlings in the ocean, there was a funny sight. “My family owns a bakery.”
“Really?”
Chloe asked excitedly, “what do you bake?”
“We’re cake
makers. We bake and decorate cakes. Well Ezra does, but I’m learning.”
Chloe
looked excited, “Sorin I want cake, can be get cake when we drop Monday off?”
“We’ll
see,” they pulled up to the flower shop, the rain pouring more than ever. Chloe
jumped out of the car and ran inside as Sorin threw his jacket over the roses.
Monday stayed in the car as she watched him go in. The rain had picked up and
made the inside of the car cold and tranquil. Monday shivered in her seat while
looking up at the beads on the mirror, only to realize they weren’t necklaces,
they were rosaries.
Monday
reached up and felt them; one was silver with blue, green, and wooden beads,
while the other had a richer look with its gold and ruby beads. She held the
silver one in her fingers; it felt brittle in her hand. The chain was bent
wrong in someplace, some of the stones were cracked and the wooden beads were
burnt in some places. Monday looked closer and saw on the wooden beads were
little painted roses on each one; all of them blue.
The car
door opened, Monday jerked her hand back, and the chain was still entwined. To
her horror, it broke. “I am so sorry! I didn’t mean to.”
“It happens
all the time. Nothing I can’t fix” Sorin shrugged, he took the broken rosary
off the mirror and gently put it in the glove box. “How about a discount on a
slice of cake for Chloe?”
“I think I
do free. What kind do you want?” Monday said, turning to Chloe. On the shot
drive to the bakery, Chloe talked none stop about everything; from cake, to her
flowers, to her bear. By the time Sorin pulled up, Monday knew more about her
then him. Monday got out of the car, instantly getting drenched, and ran to the
bakery as Sorin followed. To her luck, Ezra wasn’t back yet. Sorin looked
around the front as she ran to the back, taking out the piece of cake she was
practicing piping one and put it in a delivery box. She walked back into the
front as Sorin looked around, “Ezra doesn’t actually sell them by the slice,
but I was practicing piping this morning, it’s not the prettiest but it still
tastes good. Hopefully this makes up for the rosary.”
“Like I
said, I’ve done worse.” She handed him the box but he didn’t turn to leave,
they stood there for a moment as Sorin nervously ran his fingers threw his
hair, “You cut your hair.”
“My friend
Jason said that I had too many dead ends. I think it’s too short.”
“I think
you look cute. Not cute, cute sounds stupid. Attractive? No, that’s not the
right word either. Beautiful, you look beautiful.” Monday blushed; Sorin seemed
to be less anxious. “I was wondering that maybe, when I get back in a few
weeks, if you wanted, we could go out. Like a real date?”
Monday
couldn’t lie to herself, everything about him was attractive. From the curl in
his wet hair, his bashful smile, and those smoky gray eyes. If this was another
life she wouldn’t have waiting a second longer to tell him yes, but instead-
“No.”
Sorin
looked surprised, “Oh. That’s okay; I didn’t mean to come on to strong like
that. We can still be friends.”
“It’s not
that.” Monday said, biting her lip, “I’ve just had a lot happen to me lately and
just want to focus on myself. I’m just not ready yet to do anything like that.”
“Completely
understandable. When I get back, we could hang out - just as friends,” he said.
Monday smiled sheepishly,” But, will you let me know when I have permission to pursue
you?”
“You’ll be
the first to know,” Monday said. There was a part of her they pulled her a step
closer to him, that same part that wanted to keep going. He lend in closer too.
“You left your cousin in the car.”
“She can
wait-I mean, you right. I should go, “he said, “I’ll call you later.”
When he
left, Monday let go of the breath she didn’t even know she was holding. If only
this as another life. Not wanting to go upstairs yet, Monday went back to the
kitchen. She pulled out another slice of cake from the fridge and wanted to
practice her decorating some more. This time flowers.
Just as she
picked up the tube of blue icing, someone put a black sack over her head.
Before she could scream for help, hoping maybe Sorin might hear her, someone
pinned her arms behind her and whispered in her ear, “No point in screaming,
lover boy can’t hear you now.”
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1 comments:
The Franks are an interesting couple. I like the all-white visual.
Couple of problems with this chapter. Most significant, one of your best features, the fast-paced drive of earlier chapters, seems to have gone missing. There isn't much drive, action, or tension. The chapter seems to wander.
The Franks just happen to be Nightlings? This is too unbelievalbe to "just happen." There has to be some foreshadowing where Monday suspects them or something. Plus, with the way Nightlings seem to keep popping up, it's like 10% of the population of the city is Nightlings. Hard to suspend disbelief.
How is Monday on "lockdown" and "guarded" in the beginning of the chapter, then left unattended in the middle?
My thoughts. Keep writing.
- r
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