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A bit fed up, Gage exhaled. “Well that may never happen. You can’t expect a shark to swim peacefully alongside the tuna. There will always be one who slips up and crosses that line.”
“So what’s the answer?” Torin asked with a riveting glance. “Tell me? After all this living, how the hell is this ever going to work?”
“Just as it has for thousands of years. We find those who want us, love and feed us and we return that love and protect them.”
“And the predators?”
“Eliminate them. Every damn one of them.”
Pain of It All
The dreaded day had finally arrived and like the condemned with his hands bound to his back and his head poised beneath the guillotine’s blade, Donja suffered the minutes right down to crawling into the Chevy Suburban and hearing the engine turn over. She fastened the seat belt with one final glance to the tan and brown, split level house on Lakeshore Drive, the only home she had ever known. The Suburban backed out of the asphalt drive and she closed her eyes, Maestro on the back seat between her and Frankie.
A sickly feeling washed over her.
Minutes later with her mind off balance, they merged onto Interstate 94 and she took a final look as Carson set the vehicle in a northern direction. Suddenly it all came crashing upon her, sixteen years of her life written in blood, stuffed in a bottle, capped and tossed to the waves of Lake Michigan, forever gone.
Donja slid deep into the leather seat, fighting her tears, the soft chatter of her mom and Carson all but forcing a scream.
Are you people crazy? I can’t leave here. It’s my home, my life, where I last saw my dad.
She heard Lisa and Carson conversing back and forth, a sly smile on his face, a girlish tone in her mom’s voice which was so sickly sweet, Donja feared she might puke. She gripped her stomach.
How can you do this to me? How could you just forget about Dad?
She glanced out the tinted window with the Suburban cruising at seventy miles per hour; Benton Harbor fading as if it never existed at all. She squeezed her eyes tight, fighting the inevitable river of tears building behind her eyes. Just past the city of Coloma, the annual Peach Festival came to mind, the parade, the pageant…Kevin.
A streak of liquid misery fell like a silver bullet to her lap.
Oh Kevin.
She felt his hand holding her own, his laughter, his scent, his love that she thought would last forever. She squeezed her eyes tightly, forcing yet another tear to fall, and found herself once more, safe in her memories, his lips so thick, his kiss, her first, the one which started so innocently, then quickly changed to new found sensations. She shivered and as the fantasy intensified, she licked her lips, his taste, which was not at all what she expected, as intoxicating as rum. A shudder tore through her, reliving the moment that he forced her hand to his swelling desire, grinding with a hoarse voice begging for what she wanted to give, but could not.
She opened her eyes with a gasp, her gut churning.
Damn you, Kevin…damn you.
Snatched from reverie as Maestro climbed over her to peek out the window she realized that she was trembling. She released a pent-up breath and moved him aside. She pulled her legs underneath her and plugged in her earphones listening to the enchanting tune ‘Over’ by Azar Swan. She leaned her head on the window, the soulful music slowly stealing reality.
Her mom spun in the front seat, and faced them.
Donja pulled her earphones.
“You guys are going to love the new house.” Lisa gushed excitedly.
Donja swallowed her pain, like a dose of quinine and found her voice, weak but audible. “Am I going to have my own room?”
Silence, but she didn’t fail to notice Carson and her mom share a look. The stalemate continued and minus the tires whining on the interstate, it rang in her head, all the while waiting for an answer not forthcoming. She felt something cold creeping up her spine.
“Well?” she blubbered, once more on the verge of tears.
“Honey,” Lisa said, eyes locked on Carson as if he were the one waiting on pins and needles, “you and Makayla are going to share a room for a few weeks until the renovations are completed.”
“Mom,” she protested, losing the battle of tears.
Lisa swiveled in the seat to face her. “Oh, baby, please don’t cry, it won’t be long. I promise. And then you’ll both have a suite to yourself with a huge closet, private sitting room, bath and bedroom.”
Donja just stared, then wiped her face with the back of her hand and heard herself mumble, “that’s not fair, Mom, it’s just not fair.” She averted her gaze, blurred eyes on the window.”