Bad Decisions

Suspicions

Kassie

I scoured the cabinets looking for a bottle of anything. I wasn’t picky. Strong, weak. Big, small. I didn’t discriminate. All alcohol was equal in my eyes. I just needed something.

I had already cleared the refrigerator and—to my disappointment—had nothing of any value to me. Now, I had to climb on top of the counters to be able to reach access to the highest cabinets.

I was…a tiny bit smaller than average. Alright, I was downright small. I was tiny, a pipsqueak. I had what people referred to as a fragile, small, and delicate frame. Though, anyone that dared utter those words to me would get their d***k twisted right off their body. I wasn’t blessed to be a giant like Micah, who could reach things without any effort. I had to go on tiptoes, jump, climb to just do something a 6’5” male could do with simplicity. All the advantages of being a giant, and they took it for granted. It was sickening. Thankfully, I didn’t fall. It would’ve been a tad awkward being found by the homeowners and having to explain that I was raiding their kitchen for alcohol like I was an addict looking for her fix. Not that any of that was untrue.

Disappointment settled in. How could any living person not have alcohol in their house? With a sigh, I jumped down off the counter after looking in the last cabinet, landing softly on the pad of my feet.

This wouldn’t have been an issue if Micah hadn’t wasted what was left in my flask!

I would’ve settled for one of my cigarettes but they happened to have “magically” disappeared. In other words, I was certain Micah tossed them out.

The ass.hole.

Frustrated, I left the kitchen. I planned on harassing Micah. If I couldn’t sleep, then he surely wasn’t going to either, but something caught my eye. I stopped, frozen, my blossoming tantrum vanishing.

In the living room, there were trinkets and photos of Heath and Crystal on different journeys and adventures in their lives, but one particularly called out to me.

I walked around the couch of my dreams and towards the fireplace on the farside of the room. Stepping closer, my feet seeped into the furry rug placed in front. I briefly thought about how that must be a fire hazard at the same time that I mentally agreed that it would be a great place to f***k. I had to shake my head at the thought. It just seemed disrespectful with the picture staring back at me.

It was of my father and Heath.

In the photo, Heath’s golden hair was long and pulled back loosely against his neck, his eyes that were naturally that golden hazel color filled with humor. His lips stretched into a toothy smirk, showing a fang. My father had a long arm draped around the shoulder of his lanky friend, despite being a few inches shorter. His black curly hair was slicked back and his eyes were radiant red, like the color of fresh blood. It was a trademark of pureblood vampires, ones born into their bloodline status and not turned. Both of them both wore cream tunics, my father wearing his much more loosely, leaving more of his pale skin exposed.

I picked up the photo, hugging it to my chest. I hadn’t seen my father since that day, not even a picture. I missed him fiercely.

Growing up, my father wasn’t just my daddy, he was my best friend. Don’t get me wrong, I loved both my parents equally, without a doubt. But me and my daddy were inseparable. We did everything together. He spoiled me rotten, whereas my mom was the strict and controlling parent. I loved him to death, both of them. I would’ve happily joined them in the afterlife to be able to stay with them. And no, I wasn’t suicidal. I would join them when it was my time.

Anyone who saw my father would have instantly noted that he was very charismatic. It had always made him easy to get along with. But what others might have seen was that he was always calculating his next move, his next words.

I didn’t understand how a guy like my father could have been killed in his own home.

I was sure over the years he had made enemies. Many of them, even, but it didn’t resonate with me why someone would do this. But then I thought about the crescent scar that ran from his brow to his bottom lip and wondered. He had always told me that the scar was from a bad accident and that it was nothing to worry about, it had healed a long time before. It was enough to leave me content as a child, but now the idea left me feeling unsettled.

What did I not know about my father?

And what about my mother?

I placed the photo back down on the mantle. I walked away in a daze, tracing the wall as I went.

My beautiful red-haired mother, who was easily a wild card, who spoke her mind no matter who wanted to listen. Was it possible that the man that killed them was an enemy of hers?

Or maybe it was just not that easy.

Maybe there were no enemies and it was all just a horrible home invasion gone wrong.

But what I do know, is that if I ever found that demon, I would exact my revenge. I would draw out his death in the most torturous ways until I was satisfied.

It wasn’t as if I hadn’t searched for who had done it, but Micah kept me on a short leash as best he could. He made it extremely difficult to search for answers. He never approved, only ever worried about keeping me alive and safe.

Not that there were many answers out there. There were no traces of the murderer left behind and my concussed, fuzzy memory wasn’t much to go off of.

I was in the foyer now, my feet cold on the hard tiled floor. I don’t know why I brought myself here, but I stood looking around the small entryway.

It was just a plain room. It wasn’t too big or too small, just enough room to house a closet, a front door, and a built-in-bookcase that stood about 6’ tall.

And yet I was gravitating towards the built-in shelf off to the left, away from everything else. It only had a few grass-like plants along with some crystal bottles and leather-bound books. I slid my fingers over the painted wood and was struck by a memory.

My father was a secretive man. There were several spots just like this in my childhood home that opened into secret compartments, and even secret rooms. I watched from around corners, behind objects, as he slipped behind bookcases and paintings. I saw him lift fake drawer bottoms and pull something slim out and then go about the day like everything was normal.

I had to assume that it all had to do with age, making him paranoid.

I had no idea how old my father was. Vampires could live for centuries, possibly forever. I suspected that my father was at least a couple hundred years old and valued his long-lived secrets being hidden. Out of sight, out of mind.

And I suspected, as his oldest companion, Heath would carry some of the same values in his own home.

I slipped a finger around the edges, trying to find any sort of latch or button or anything that would prove my theory right.

Nothing.

I bit my lip ferociously. There had to be a way for this to open. I wasn’t just overthinking, imagining the secrets this new environment could possibly hold.

I closed my eyes for a minute, letting my fingers explore. Only a couple of minutes passed before my finger passed over something on the underneath of a lower shelf. Some sort of latch that when I switched it forward, I could hear a click behind the shelf before it popped open about two inches. I grabbed the edge and pulled it open, cursing the sound of the hinges squealing.

The room in front of me was dark, only a small portion was lit with the sun starting to rise, spilling in from the now-open door. I walked in a few steps and my eyes quickly adjusted. I realized it was a library. It was larger than I thought it would be.

Each wall had rows upon rows of books of all different sizes and colors. From wall to ceiling. Towards the middle of the room there was a large ebony desk with a dark leather tufted chair. But more importantly, there was a silver tray with a set of crystal glasses and a matching decanter.

I walked over to the desk and poured myself a glass of bourbon and took a seat.

“Your father would be rolling in his grave to see you drinking his bourbon.”

My eyes snapped up. Heath leaned against the doorframe, his arms across his chest. He was so quiet, I hadn’t noticed he was there.

I put my feet on top of the desk, crossed at the ankles and took another long drink from the glass before putting it down on the desk.

“You couldn’t sleep?”

“No. Let me ask you a question,” I said, as I traced the rim of the glass with a finger tip. “My parents have been dead for twenty years. Why did you show up now?”

His face looked grim. He stepped in and poured himself a drink. He sat on the edge of the desk, facing me.

“I understand your distrust, but I want to ease your tension.” He took a drink. “We have been looking for you for a very long time. When it had been a while since I had heard from your father, I knew something terrible had happened. By the time I had gotten there, the house was long-since burned down. Along with any trace of you.”

“I’m sure you’re a resourceful man. You could’ve figured it out. We couldn’t have been too hard to find.”

“Perhaps I could’ve tried harder, but I honestly wasn’t sure you were even actually alive. I’m sure your demon friend was to blame for making sure that you weren’t found.”

“Why would he do that?” As soon as the words were out of my mouth I knew it needed no explanation.

He wanted to make sure that whoever got my parents, didn’t get me.

He offered none of his own explanations.

“Crystal had a vision about a week ago, showing that you two would need our help. She got enough information for us to pinpoint right where you were going to be.”

“That’s a useful trick.” I finished my drink.

“It is. I would hate to imagine what would have happened if I hadn’t come when I did.”

“You know what else would have been useful?” I threw my feet down and stood up, filling my cup again. “If she had used that trick twenty fuc.king years ago.”

I couldn’t even imagine if we had come here as kids, never experiencing life as we had.

Or even better.

If they had a heads up that my parents were about to be murdered, they could have come and stopped it from ever happening. I would’ve never had to be an orphan to begin with.

“It doesn’t work like that. It doesn’t happen by will.”

I shook my head and chugged the entire glass. I already felt it warming my insides. I went to pour a third but Heath’s hand shot out and covered the top so I couldn’t refill.

“I’m assuming you not being able to sleep was more the fact that you didn’t have your dose of alcohol.”

I looked at him intensely, dissatisfied.

“Yeah, Micah filled me in a bit. And even if he didn’t, not much is a secret in this house. I can read minds, after all.” He smirked. “He told me to hide all the alcohol. Preferably to dump it all, or else you’d sniff it out after he went to sleep. I guess he was right.”

My punishment! That sneaky bastard…he already had it all planned from the beginning.

Part of me wanted to take the cup and throw it against a wall, letting small shards decorate the floor like confetti. I put it down on the tray instead.

“You want to know who killed your parents.”

I nodded. “I’m hoping the answers will settle my mind.”

The look he gave me basically screamed “Bu.llshit.”

“To settle your mind or to give you the opportunity for revenge?”

I chuckled. “It’s like you’ve known me my whole life.”

“Why would you want to do that after all these years?”

“You really have to ask that?”

He gave me a blank stare in return, blinking once or twice. “I suppose not, but humor me.”

“Because the bastard took everything from me,” I growled out. I really didn’t want to talk about it. I haven’t had to in years. Why did I have to spell that out for him? Wasn’t it obvious?

“So it’s not because of some sort of survivor’s guilt?” he asked with an eyebrow raised.

I looked at him with wide eyes before I could compose myself.

“Do yourself a favor and stay the f***k out of my head,” I snapped.

He looked at me guiltily and shrugged. “Your thoughts are quite loud. It’s like you’re yelling them at me.”

For f**k’s sake. How much had he heard?

“I heard…everything.” He had a sly smile plastered on his face for a moment until it disappeared. “But one thing has me concerned.”

“What’s that?”

“Their murderer…it was a demon?”

“Yup.”

“You’re sure?”

“Pretty damn sure. And I have the evidence to prove it.” I absent-mindedly rubbed the scar gently that I got from that night. I remembered how foggy my memory was from that night, but that much I was certain about. Whoever he was, he was a big as.s scary demon. “I can’t seem to remember what his face looks like. But I have no doubt in my mind. I felt it.”

He looked thoughtful for a moment, lost in his own mind, and somehow I knew what he was going to say, or at least wanted to say before he said it.

“Micah—”

“Micah has nothing to do with it.”

“I’m just thinking that it is quite the coincidence that Micah came into your lives, that your parents were taking him in as if one of their own, and a year later they found themselves killed.”

“He couldn’t have done it himself.”

“Obviously not. He was a child. But…”

“But what?” I was already annoyed at this point, but I wanted to hear what nonsense he wanted to add.

“Maybe he knows who did it. Maybe him coming into your life was all a ruse to--”

I was done listening. Done humoring this stupidity.

“Micah didn’t have anything to do with it. He doesn’t know anything more than I do about what happened. We don’t keep secrets like that from each other.”

“Is that so?” His face looked almost smug like he had something to add, but didn’t want to push his luck. “I meant no offense, Kassie. I know you and the demon are close. I’m just wondering if he knows more than we think he does. I simply want to protect you from whatever impending danger is still lurking.”

“He doesn’t,” I said, defensively. “You don’t know Micah. Or me, for that matter. You can’t throw any accusations around when you know nothing. And, no offense, I can protect myself.”

“You’re right. Forgive me. I meant nothing by it. Honestly.” He smiled gently. “It’s reassuring to know you have had such a loyal companion looking out for you all these years. I really ought to thank him.”

He stood up, inserted his hands in his blue plaid pajama pants and turned towards the door. Before I moved to follow him, I shot back the rest of his drink and grabbed the decanter and tucked it close to my side, hoping I would be slick enough to keep it hidden from him. Especially my thoughts.

He stopped short of the door and I was nervous he figured out that I was trying to sneak away with the alcohol.

“You want to know more about your parents, yes?”

“Of course.” I paused for a second. “Why?”

“Why don’t you go get dressed? There’s something I think you should see.”