THE BITTER BETRAYAL
CHAPTER THIRTEEN

The thin sheet of paper scrubbed against Olivia's thumb as she drew it to the left, eyeing the next page with furrowed brows. She sighed, almost drained by the number of times she had scanned over the same drawings over and over again. They were engraved in her brain by now, like letters smoldered into a log of wood. Nothing appeared to clarify why after all their work in defeating the Aglaeca, she was still plagued with visions any time the heavy sapphire ring wasn't placed on her ring finger. Nothing could amount to the energy that was drawn from her, every time she blacked out. It was tiresome, painful. And all she had that could possibly explain anything were her drawings of each vision, and her ring passed down to her from her Aunt Hillary.

"I don't get why you had a vision of us when we were kidnapped by Steven." From where he was seated closely behind Olivia on her bed, Ace tore his eyes away from the book on the girl's lap. His chin hovered over her shoulder as he cocked his eyebrow questioningly, but she only sighed and pursed her lips in response.

"I don't know." She shrugged. Her head, pulsing with pain, was not being made any better with Ace's attempts at conversing on a complicated topic. Olivia, more than anyone, desired to understand what was going on with her mind and body. She wanted to figure out the twisted things going on in her blood and the supernatural connection there was to her soul. She desired to know how to stop it, to get rid of it, to detach herself from its burden. Yet, no matter how hard they tried to understand, the logic behind it was worlds away, and Olivia grew tired, drained from the energy each vision took away from her, the patience she lost every time she took one step forward but felt she was being dragged a thousand steps back. "I guess I was just thinking about you guys pretty hard," she added, trying to show Ace some motivation, to make him feel like he wasn't the only one making the effort. It was clear from her dragged, trailing voice and her slumped shoulders, however, that her phase of motivation, of persistence, had passed. That all she had now was the little bit of hope that reduced more and more each time she realized how far away they were from a solution.

"But you weren't thinking about the Aglaeca when you saw our deaths."

"I know that," Olivia grumbled, staring down at her thumbs as she picked at the skin around her nails. The blood in her veins warmed more and more each time Ace spoke, each time she was asked a question she didn't have an answer to. It was painful, almost– being asked something she so desperately wanted an answer to but knew she couldn't have.

"It doesn't make sense."

Olivia gritted her teeth and shuffled forward, away from where Ace's knee was digging into the small of her back. She turned her body so she could look straight in his face, barely able to contain the red frustration looming in her eyes. "I don't get how any of this works, either, okay? How do you think I feel?" Her words were cold, bitter, diving into Ace's ears like shooting bullets while her eyes bored holes into his head like daggers.

His frown deepened at her reaction and his throat tightened to stop him from saying anything else that would anger her. "We'll figure this out," he said softly, staring into her eyes with sunken, apologetic lids.

"That's what you said last time, Ace. It's what everyone said. And we didn't figure it out."

"But we beat the Aglaeca," he suggested enthusiastically, trying to lift her mood with a wan smile. "She's gone now."

"But Odette isn't," her voice had weakened as she returned her gaze to her thumbs, reminded that each time they thought they had succeeded, they had really only failed. Maybe the Aglaeca was gone, but she left behind Odette and a new problem for Olivia and her friends to solve– the visions.

Ace's eyebrows knitted together and he stared down at the pastel pink comforter of Olivia's bed. "Right..." he trailed, finally lifting his eyes up to Olivia who gazed at him in confusion, "so what if your visions are because Odette is still here? She was the Aglaeca- I mean, it would make sense."

Olivia shook her head before even considering his words. While they were logical, they didn't sit right with her. Something in the back of her mind and deep in her gut was trying to convince her that Ace was wrong. That there was something else to it. "I don't think so– what did your kidnapping have to do with the Aglaeca?" Olivia reasoned, her eyes diverting back to her open sketchbook. She flipped to the next page, taking in the strange symbol she had copied off the box of Hillary's ring. It sent a wave of nostalgia coursing through her veins, and she sighed, slowly drawing her index finger toward the rough page. "If only we could figure out what this is," Olivia sighed, tracing her finger over the connecting lines that made up the symbol.

As her skin brushed over the pencil marks, she felt her eyes slowly flutter shut and her eyes slowly loll backward into her head. She gasped for breath, her neck suddenly feeling like a rope was tied around it, tightening and tightening by the second. She threw her head back in exasperation and clung onto her neck, her protruding veins sticking out against the palm of her hands. Her skin burned like Hellfires, and it proceeded to heat up with every suffocating cry for help and every bob of her head as she tried to free herself of death's strangling hands around her neck.

Ace hopped off the bed, his eyes wide and heart plummeting against his chest as she stared at Olivia in utter shock. He was paralyzed, his mind trampled with different ideas on how to help but concerned about what was happening to her, his limbs shaking in fear of what was going on. Before even allowing himself to process the scene before him, he lurched forward and grasped onto each of Olivia's shoulders, staring into her eyes with hopes of any response, but all he saw were tears of struggle streaming down her red, burning hot cheeks while her eyes continued to battle to stay open. "Olivia!" He shook her arms gently, trying to wake her from her episode, but the veins on her forehead continued to pulse while she gasped for air.

Her eyelids shot open, revealing bloodshot, glassy eyes. Every blood vessel in the white of her eye was an ash red, large and pulsing like the ones all over her face and neck as she struggled to breathe. When she felt cold, fresh air slowly filled her lungs, Olivia slid off her bed, dropping onto all fours as she coughed violently. Her hot hands were instantly cooled by the marble floors, only making her realize how warm the rest of her body was as she hacked in pain.

"Hey, hey, I got you," Ace promised, appearing in front of Olivia on the floor. His hands held tightly onto her shoulders, trying to stabilize her on the ground. After blinking several times, she looked at him with tear-filled eyes and reached to her chest in agony. The pain in her throat and what had felt like hands around her neck left an unbearable sensation in her entire body as she tried to process everything that had just happened. "You're okay."

"No..." she croaked when her eyes shifted to the floor to a pool of splattered blood. The deep red made her stomach churn with disgust and her heart began to race fast enough to make her limbs shake. With trembling hands, she shuffled backward on the ground, trying to avoid the horrifying amount of blood that had left her own mouth, just like days ago at The Claw. "What's happening to me?"

"I told you to keep your ring on, Liv," Ace sighed, running a hand over his face. He scrambled to his feet and hurried toward Olivia to help her up. With two hands under her arms, he lifted her onto her bed. He gently pulled the blanket from under her so he could cover her with it.

"It is on."

He paused. "What?"

"I am wearing the ring." Olivia raised her right hand to show off the bright blue ring on her finger. Her stomach twisted as her eyes shifted from the stone on her finger to the small puddle of blood on the floor.

"Do you think that means..."

"It can't protect me anymore."

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"You don't have to do that..." Olivia's eyebrows sunk in shame as she watched Ace on the floor from her bed. Eyeing the boy who patiently wiped up the small pool of blood on the floor with a mass of paper towels, Olivia scooted from under her covers to the side of her bed. She dropped her sock-clad feet onto the floor, only to feel a sudden shot of heat race to her skin and a wave of dizziness to her head. She squeezed her eyes tightly and pursed her lips to try and subdue the unpleasant feeling as she pushed the weight of her body onto her feet.

"I said stay on the bed, Livvie." From the ground below her, Ace placed a hot hand on her thigh to force her back onto the bed. It didn't take much physical force to send her weak legs bag down onto her soft mattress where Olivia sighed with embarrassment. Nevertheless, she complied and allowed her back to rest back onto the headboard of the bed while Ace finished up.

"Thank you," she whispered, staring at her hands while he scooped up the pile of tissues into his hand and dropped them into the small white bin by her bedside table.

With a faint smile, Ace brushed his hands against his sweatpants and plopped down onto the side of the bed, facing the tired girl as she played around with the ring in the palm of her hand. "Why didn't you tell me this happened before?" He reached over and picked it out of her hand. Through narrow eyes, he inspected the small piece of jewelry that he held between two fingers.

Olivia shrugged, trying to brush it off as insignificant. "I don't know, I guess I didn't think it was a big deal."

"Coughing up blood seems like a pretty big deal," he declared blatantly, trying to catch eye contact.

"I meant at the time. George was dead!" she snapped, a rush of pain instantly shooting into her head when she raised her voice. She winced and sat back, lowering the volume of her voice as she continued. "With everything going on, I just forgot." Ace nodded in understanding, putting on a sympathetic smile as he reached over for Olivia's hand on top of the blanket. He placed his large hand over hers, and Olivia smiled softly at the small symbol of comfort. It faded soon, as lightheadedness took over once again. "What are we gonna do, Ace?"

Ace frowned. "Your dad knows something about the ring, doesn't he?"

"What are you saying?"

"He was the one who donated the ring to the Historical Society– he must know something."

Olivia shook her head and drew her hand away from him defensively. "Don't even say it."

"He's our last chance, Liv," he sighed hopelessly.

"No, he's not! We haven't talked to Hannah yet," she bargained, now completely ignorant to the aching pain all over her body. Even despite the dark rings around her eyes and her pale skin from the episode she'd just had, her energy had suddenly sparked; the last thing she wanted was to talk to her dad, especially about this. All this time, he had been lying to her, keeping Hillary's true cause of death a secret, pretending he knew nothing about the supernatural world. While Olivia was not ready to rebuild that trust, she realized she was more not ready to find out it was all true– that he had lied to her.

"You were there with me when we got the ring. You saw Hannah's ledger and registrar. She knew nothing about that ring!" Ace argued, standing up from the bed and towering over Olivia. "I'm not letting you suffer more because you don't wanna talk to your dad about this."

"Ace, I swear if you say anything I'll never forgive you." Her words filled the room with a thick silence that the pair had never felt before in their lives. It was cold and bitter and dark and it was truthful. Ace could feel it.

He didn't hesitate. "I'd rather that than you dying."

"Ace!" she called in a whisper when she saw him charging toward her closed bedroom door. He pulled it open, and neglecting the nausea in her stomach and the dizziness in her head, Olivia scrambled out of her bed and raced after him as he hurried down the stairs.

The louder the sound of the living room TV got as she chased him through her house, the faster her heartbeat in a combination of anxiety and anger. Anger that Ace would do this– that after everything, after all the trust she had built for him, he was ready to crush it. There was no one Olivia confided in more than Ace, no one that she counted on more than she did him, yet it only took him seconds to betray her trust.

"Ace, stop! I just need some time," she whisper-shouted, grabbing onto his shoulder to try and hold him back, but her strength was no match to his.

He waved her off without even turning his head to glance at her. "You don't have time," he declared bluntly. He didn't hesitate as he stepped into the living room, drawing Mason Irvine's attention. Olivia stopped the moment Ace had entered the room. She closed her eyes and cursed Ace quietly as she tried to calm her breaths while she hid behind the wall.

"Ace," Mason greeted, shuffling forward in his seat.

"Mr. Irvine, there's something we've been meaning to ask you, but haven't had the chance to," Ace blurted, unable to hold back long enough to greet the man. "On the night of your sister's death, you donated a ring to the Historical Society-"

Mason frowned, dumbfounded by the boy's forwardness. "I'm not going to talk about personal matters with you, son," he said through a cold chuckle.

"With all due respect, sir, your daughter is dying because you're not willing to talk about personal matters." Olivia's eyes widened as the words left Ace's mouth– the courage he had to speak to Mason like that, and the fact that he had just dragged Olivia's name into this. Now it felt real. Now she felt everything come crashing down onto her shoulders like boulders.

The man's stare darkened at the snarkiness of Ace's tone. He rose from his seat with a puffed chest and furrowed brows. "Excuse me? Who do you think you are?"

Shuddering, Olivia squeezed her arms into her sides stiffly as she stepped forward. "I- I wanted to talk to you earlier..." She extended her arm out in front of her before opening her fist to reveal the ring.

Mason's frown of confusion turned into a blank stare as his eyes glazed over with realization. He stepped forward to take a closer look, mesmerized by the piece of jewelry he hadn't seen in almost ten years. "How..." He couldn't find the words to speak, and Olivia didn't know whether to be relieved that her dad appeared to be confused, or disgusted by the fact that he was standing there without shame for the secrets he'd been keeping from her.

Olivia bit back tears, swallowing a thick lump in her throat. "You donated this to the Historical Society when Aunt Hillary died," she stated firmly, although her voice trembled in some areas. "That means you know she didn't have schizophrenia, and you know that... that her death wasn't a suicide." The last part came out as more of a croak as she fought back tears. She felt Ace's warm hand land on the small of her back, but she only scrunched her face up with disgust and pulled away from him. "Don't touch me," she barked.

His lips parted and a wave of hurt shadowed his eyes as he looked down at Olivia from beside her. "Livvie..."

She snapped her head to the side to face him, his sad eyes and pouty lips sending a pang of guilt to her chest. "No, Ace. Get out." When he only continued to stare at her with the pain in his heart growing, Olivia's frown deepened. "I said get out!" she yelled, pointing toward the hall leading to the exit.

He paused for a moment, staring Olivia down almost to see if she'd change her mind. When her glare didn't budge, he pursed his lips and nodded, and began to move begrudgingly past the ancestral paintings on the walls. He was always mesmerized by the artworks hung around the Irvine house, always absorbing the immense detail with admiration, but this time he walked past the watercolor painting of Captain Arthur Irvine and his wife Evangeline like it wasn't even there.

"Liv, what's going on?" Her dad broke the thin silence, regaining her attention.

"You lied to me."

"Was the suicide thing all a cover-up? To keep the media quiet?" She grimaced at the disgusting thought that her father could allow such a thing to happen. "Was it all to protect the stupid Irvine reputation?"

"Olivia-"

"Was your reputation so important that you had to dump this?" She said loudly as tears clouded her vision. She raised the ring in the air, pinched between her thumb and index finger. The father and daughter stared at it, one of them in a hot red flash of anger, and the other in growing confusion as painful memories resurfaced.

"I promise you, Olivia, I don't know what this is," Mason pointed to the ring.

The movie playing in the background was merely static, irrelevant, cast out by Olivia's fuming thoughts and angered words. "You're the one who handed it over to the Historical Society!" Olivia snapped, flailing her hands in the air in frustration. "It protected Aunt Hillary, and it protects- protected me," her voice cracked and she paused to recompose herself. She sniffled and wiped her cheek with the back of her baby-blue shirt sleeve.

Mason took a step forward, his eyebrows knitting together while he processed her words. "What are you talking about?"

"I can't believe you, Dad!" Olivia cried, enraged by her dad's persistence, that he stood comfortably in front of her, lying to her face. She shook her head and slipped the ring onto her finger before wiping her face with her shirtsleeves. "Forget it."

"No, no, no, sweetie..." his feet stomped on the ground as he hopped in front of her to stop her from exiting the room. "Listen to me. I swear I don't know anything, Liv, but if there's something going on with you-- if you need help, you have to tell me, alright?"

She folded her arms over her chest. "I don't have to tell you anything."

"Yes you do, I am your father!" Olivia flinched at the volume of his voice, but she maintained her stance. She only tore her eyes away from him, focusing on the white wall behind the sofa to try and control the tears desperate to spill. Mason sighed and ran his hand over his face. "I don't know why my sister wore that ring." Subconsciously, her eyes drifted back to him. "I found it when I was helping our parents pack up her things... after she passed. It was attached to a note saying to donate it to the Historical Society." Olivia frowned and stared at the Persian rug on the floor, trying to piece everything together. Her father sounded genuine, hurt, and nostalgic– Olivia found it hard not to feel like she had to trust him even though she deeply didn't want to. "Our mother wanted to dump it into some box, to avoid any speculation about it from the media. The same way she paid the Northridge Mental Institute to accord with her when she announced Hillary's death was a suicide." He angled his head away to focus on the ceramic lamp on the glass table, trying to control his emotions.

"Northridge Mental Institute- is that where she was admitted for schizophrenia?" Mason nodded and Olivia frowned, glancing back up at her dad to truly take in his drained appearance. Although in his suit-shirt and pants, considering he'd just returned from the office, he appeared battered– exhausted from his work, but also by the memories that came with the unexpected discussion regarding his sister. Most baffling to Olivia, though, was that her own grandmother had been cruel enough to want her own daughter's death to be known as a suicide– all to protect their reputation. "That's why you and Grandma never talk..." she mumbled with realization.

Mason nodded. "I took the ring down to the Historical Society anyway. For Hillary. It was what she wanted."

Her dad's last sentence played in her head like a song lyric on repeat. It was like the epoxy that fit all the puzzle pieces in Olivia's head together. "She knew someday someone else would need it." The words came out slow, almost like Olivia was only just realizing it as she spoke.

The ache in her chest had almost magically subsided as though the fact that Hillary was aware her curse would be passed down was a form of reassurance to Olivia. Her mood had instantly brightened and she felt the lump in her throat slowly falter, although she couldn't help but feel distant toward her dad. Talking to him, looking at him, it still didn't feel right, no matter how certain she was that he was telling the truth. Nevertheless, he had given her hope. Hope that maybe Hillary had left more behind– more truth, more knowledge– more of an answer of how to put an end to all of this.

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