Ancient Shades and Their Shadowy Dwellings - Guest Post: Teri
Posting from the wilds of NYC
I follow Kim’s slow, deliberate walk back to the sanitarium, watch him disappear inside, welcomed by the returning attendant who had been oddly absent; Robert’s handiwork, no doubt. Once assured of his safety, the presence behind me changes my focus.
“Yes, Princess?” He games with me, gives me a look that is a bastardization of innocence. Robert is not innocent, nor am I; neither of us have been for a very, very long time. That was taken from us both by the same men. Robert fought them; I became them.
There are, amazingly, some constants in the universe.
“I warned you, Robert,” I reproach as I seat myself on the bench “I told you ‘no’.”
“Last I checked, Princess,” he leers, “I’m the top in this relationship. This ain’t over till I say it is.” It’s familiar bluster, but only to a point. The power in our relationship resides with me but for Robert, Kim and Domino are shades of the past, both his and mine. To him they are demonic threats, dark wraiths that must be destroyed. He leans down and leaves a feather soft kiss on my lips. “Later, Princess,” then he lopes off, checking back over his shoulder with an easy grin. I regard the Glock still in my hand, its solid weight a demand for my attention.
Not now. Other things require my immediate attention. This is no longer a safe venue unless Robert can be made to see sense, an unlikely occurrence. Arrangements must be made to remedy this breech which, though unfortunate, was hardly unanticipated. Robert sometimes prefers to pretend my past remains there but of course, our shades follow always, only the shadows in which they dwell changing.
Kim’s and Domino’s shades share a genesis; that of love and its betrayal; Kim by my brother and Domino by me. Robert’s as well; his love for his brother, thought to be enslaved and then murdered, then the discovery that that same brother had embraced those to whom he had been bound over. He fears to lose me to Kim, yet another shade.
My shades are my own and involve these players and so very many more. I secure the weapon beneath my coat. Though I know well how to use it, my executions have been far less bloody though equally effective. Robert only thinks he knows; he does not.
Some time later, contingency arrangements in place, I return to the chalet at which I am stopping. It is similar to that in which Wren and Sean live with their “son.” Sean may think the past can be left behind but Wren knows better; he bears the evidence every moment of every day. They exist at the forbearance of Dunraven and for no other reason. Wren was wise to advise me of Robert’s arrival.
I enter the high ceilinged hall and allow the porter to take my coat, careful to conceal the firearm as I remove it. This is a Dunraven house, one at which I was well known. Chatelaine and I came to an agreement of a kind in New York; it remains to be seen what benefits it creates and to whom they fall.
‘Your rooms have been prepared for the evening sir,” the elderly retainer informs me, then nods and leaves me to enjoy the tea service awaiting me. As I enter my rooms, I stop in shock and am about to call for him. Before I do, though, I realize that there is nothing he would be able to tell me.
The white cinnamon tree before me conveys all it is that I need to know. Or does it? It is a traditional symbol of forgiveness of injury. But for or from whom? Obviously this is Robert’s doing. What is he forgiving me for? Is it for Kim? My part in Domino’s creation? The cat and mouse game we played and play? Or is he asking forgiveness for what he has done or is about to do?
I call a number known only to three people.
Most likely, someone will die tonight.
I follow Kim’s slow, deliberate walk back to the sanitarium, watch him disappear inside, welcomed by the returning attendant who had been oddly absent; Robert’s handiwork, no doubt. Once assured of his safety, the presence behind me changes my focus.
“Yes, Princess?” He games with me, gives me a look that is a bastardization of innocence. Robert is not innocent, nor am I; neither of us have been for a very, very long time. That was taken from us both by the same men. Robert fought them; I became them.
There are, amazingly, some constants in the universe.
“I warned you, Robert,” I reproach as I seat myself on the bench “I told you ‘no’.”
“Last I checked, Princess,” he leers, “I’m the top in this relationship. This ain’t over till I say it is.” It’s familiar bluster, but only to a point. The power in our relationship resides with me but for Robert, Kim and Domino are shades of the past, both his and mine. To him they are demonic threats, dark wraiths that must be destroyed. He leans down and leaves a feather soft kiss on my lips. “Later, Princess,” then he lopes off, checking back over his shoulder with an easy grin. I regard the Glock still in my hand, its solid weight a demand for my attention.
Not now. Other things require my immediate attention. This is no longer a safe venue unless Robert can be made to see sense, an unlikely occurrence. Arrangements must be made to remedy this breech which, though unfortunate, was hardly unanticipated. Robert sometimes prefers to pretend my past remains there but of course, our shades follow always, only the shadows in which they dwell changing.
Kim’s and Domino’s shades share a genesis; that of love and its betrayal; Kim by my brother and Domino by me. Robert’s as well; his love for his brother, thought to be enslaved and then murdered, then the discovery that that same brother had embraced those to whom he had been bound over. He fears to lose me to Kim, yet another shade.
My shades are my own and involve these players and so very many more. I secure the weapon beneath my coat. Though I know well how to use it, my executions have been far less bloody though equally effective. Robert only thinks he knows; he does not.
Some time later, contingency arrangements in place, I return to the chalet at which I am stopping. It is similar to that in which Wren and Sean live with their “son.” Sean may think the past can be left behind but Wren knows better; he bears the evidence every moment of every day. They exist at the forbearance of Dunraven and for no other reason. Wren was wise to advise me of Robert’s arrival.
I enter the high ceilinged hall and allow the porter to take my coat, careful to conceal the firearm as I remove it. This is a Dunraven house, one at which I was well known. Chatelaine and I came to an agreement of a kind in New York; it remains to be seen what benefits it creates and to whom they fall.
‘Your rooms have been prepared for the evening sir,” the elderly retainer informs me, then nods and leaves me to enjoy the tea service awaiting me. As I enter my rooms, I stop in shock and am about to call for him. Before I do, though, I realize that there is nothing he would be able to tell me.
The white cinnamon tree before me conveys all it is that I need to know. Or does it? It is a traditional symbol of forgiveness of injury. But for or from whom? Obviously this is Robert’s doing. What is he forgiving me for? Is it for Kim? My part in Domino’s creation? The cat and mouse game we played and play? Or is he asking forgiveness for what he has done or is about to do?
I call a number known only to three people.
Most likely, someone will die tonight.