Sinister

Chapter Seventeen

Leighton,

I'm sorry you had to wake up alone. I had some errands to run. I do not expect to be home by the time you'll need to leave. Help yourself to what is in the fridge. If there is no food to be found, help yourself to what is in Killian's wallet.

- T

Leighton sighed and fell backwards, head hitting the pillow as her arms stretched out over the cool sheets. Leighton couldn't remember when Tate had left her but she couldn't remember falling asleep. Last night, she had definitely forgotten that Tate didn't sleep at all.

Forcing herself out of bed, Leighton padded around Tate's room, feet cold on the sturdy hardwood. There wasn't really anything to look at as Tate didn't have any pictures or keepsakes. Eventually, Leighton found herself in the barren kitchen, rummaging through empty cupboards and scanning the vacant shelves in the refrigerator.

"Hungry?"

Leighton jumped, one hand flying to her throat and the other reaching down and tugging her t-shirt over the pair of shorts she had taken from Tate's dresser; the mid-summer air was humid.

"Damn it, Killian," Leighton hissed, relaxing slightly, "you scared me."
Killian seemed to find this amusing. "I scared you? You're the one who is sneaking about my house."

Leighton scowled, "Tate told me I could feed myself."

Killian's eyes were light under his blonde curls. "Well, in case you've forgotten this isn't Tate's house to offer up to guests. Isn't that clear from his clear lack of foresight? He hasn't been here long enough to know that I don't keep food around. I don't have enough human friends to need such items and I do hate discarding of spoiled groceries."

"The no friend part I knew about," Leighton said, "it's just weird to imagine a kitchen with no food."

Killian laughed. "Is it not stranger to imagine a person who doesn't require a kitchen with food?"

Leighton groaned and put a hand to her head. "Honestly, I try not to think about those parts of Tate."

Killian almost laughed. "And what parts are we speaking about?"

"The inexplicable," Leighton answered.

Killian nodded, pressing his lips together as he reached into his pocket and took out a twenty dollar bill. "For breakfast and maybe lunch if you spend it right."

Leighton rolled her eyes. "I don't need your money, Killian."

"It's not my money," Killian amended, "it's really Tom's."

Leighton made a low noise in the back of her throat and grumbled something about gambling before she stomped forward and snatched the bill from Killian's hands. By the time Leighton was dressed and downstairs, Killian was gone and the house was quiet.

With no key, Leighton simply shut the front door behind her and headed towards her car, casting her gaze over the vast property as if searching for burglars in waiting. When she was confident no one was coming to steal what little was inside of Killian's house, Leighton drove down the long driveway and headed towards St. Hope.

Leighton wasn't in her house for more than a few seconds before her mother was calling her name. Leighton hung up her keys and kicked off her shoes just in time to see her mother padding down the hallway, blue eyes bright and furious.

"Where were you?" Karen demanded, hands firmly placed on hips. "What were you doing? Who were you with? Why weren't you home?"

Leighton held up her hands as though she were warding off an attack. "Whoa, mom, I'm okay. I'm right here."

Karen's eyes narrowed. "Where were you?"
"I went to Tate's house after work and we uh, we watched a movie, and then it was too late to drive back so I crashed at his place."

Karen blanched. "You watched a movie?"

"Yeah?"

"Do you not think I don't know what that means? Do you think I'm out of touch with the lingo? I may be a mother but I'm a hip mom who knows the goddamn code, Leighton. I didn't know you two were so serious! I never presumed that you― "

"Mom," Leighton choked out, "please stop. You're embarrassing me."

"Embarrassing you?" Karen repeated, "in front of who? I'm your mother!"

"Mom please, we just watched a movie, an actual movie, that's it!"

Karen folded her arms over her chest. "What movie?"

Leighton cursed herself. "It was about sports."

Karen was silent for a long time before she threw up her arms. "You're a terrible liar."

"I'm an adult," Leighton said snidely. She hated that she was resorting to this defense, it was anything but adult-like and they both knew it. "I'm eighteen."

Karen rolled her eyes. "Eighteen," she repeated, "that's no more an adult than a cat is a dog."

"Believe what you want, mom, but I'm fine. I'm safe and I'm home."

Karen strode forward, placing her hand on her daughter's cheek. "Are you alright, Leigh? Because the last time you were with that boy you were running across a freeway. That isn't fine. That isn't anywhere close to fine."

"I didn't do it because of him," Leighton grumbled, "I don't know why I did it. It was stupid. He was trying to talk me out of it."

"I don't want to lose you, Leighton," Karen said, voice thick and heavy. "I don't want to lose you because of some boy, I don't want to lose you because I failed to keep a better eye on you. I don't want to lose you to ignorance, or naiveté, or misplaced trust."

"You don't trust me?" Leighton asked sharply.

Karen put her hands to her face, pressing into her cheeks and blinking rapidly. "I do trust you, Leighton. Really, I do. It's the rest of the world I don't trust, it's everybody else. I've never wanted to burden you with my feelings but... but when I learned of what had happened with Braden... when I found out... oh God―I've been such a terrible mother!" Leighton was shocked into silence as her mother burst into tears, her fair complexion turning red and her blue eyes welling up with emotion.

Leighton moved towards her mother, embracing her softly, but firmly. After all the months Karen had provided a safe haven for Leighton, it was up to her to return that favor now. Perhaps it was ignorance, but it felt more like selfishness when Leighton realized she had never taken into account just how keenly her mother's life was affected by Leighton's.

"You've been the best mother," Leighton murmured soothingly. She was surprised when her voice caught on emotion. "You've always been there for me, you've always looked out for me and supported me. You couldn't have prevented what happened, all you could do was everything you did. You were there and you loved me." The truth of her statement had brought unforeseen tears to Leighton's eyes that she wiped away with the back of her hand.

Karen leaned back, bringing one hand up to cradle her daughter's face. "That boy," she said, referring to Tate, "when you're with him there is life in your eyes and color in your cheeks."

"He's all good, mom," Leighton assured her.

Karen's breath hitched and another tear fell from her eye. She laughed sheepishly, wiping at her cheeks. "Now I'm embarrassing myself." Once composed, she smiled softly at her daughter. "I'll try not to be so overprotective, I will. Just bear with me, okay? Old habits die hard you know."

Leighton grinned. "I know."

"You know, for all the times you come into this shop you could at least buy something or spread the word. Get me some business." Leighton looked up, a smile playing on her face as she met Petra's mismatch eyes. The shopkeeper had her hands in a bowl of what looked like snail shells. "I'm not going to be able to keep this shop open long enough for you to get all the answers you need."

Leighton's fingers brushed over multiple shelves, hesitating near the bookshelf. Petra's shop had a large collective of books, ranging from current bestsellers to grimoires older than Leighton herself.

"How do you know I have questions left?" Leighton asked.

Petra laughed, bringing one shell to her face for closer inspection. "Why else would you be here?" After a moment of deliberation Petra set the shell on the countertop and crushed it underneath the heel of her palm until it was a fine powder. When Leighton raised an eyebrow Petra was ready with an explanation. "Some customers believe powdered snail shell can heal gout."

"And where would they get that idea?" Petra smiled mischievously but said nothing. Leighton pulled out a large book and brought it over to the counter, opening it up to the middle portion and flipping through the old, yellowing pages slowly.

Petra peered with one eye at the pages and clicked her tongue. "That one won't be any use to you."

Leighton looked up from a rather explicit photo of a fairy being ripped in half. "Do you have something that I might find useful?"

Petra rubbed her hands together swiftly, dislodging most of the snail dust before rounding the counter and making her way towards the bookshelf. It only took a moment of searching for Petra to return with a small, thick volume that was wrapped in red leather and bounder with two heavy, gold clasps.

Leighton took the book in her hands and felt the weight of it. Across the front, in blocky lettering was: LIFE AND DEATH. Leighton looked up to Petra, finding the shopkeepers gaze already on her.

"It's by no means a light read but you might find some value in it." Leighton opened the cover only for Petra to close it shut, almost catching her fingers. Leighton looked up sharply, "Why on earth―"

Silently, Petra moved to the front door of the shop and turned the lock before flipping the sign from OPEN to CLOSED. "There are some things I need to speak with you about before you decide to get too involved."

Without any complaint or hesitancy, Leighton followed Petra through the shop, moving quietly through the narrow aisles and stooping as she went through a small doorway covered in long strands of beads.

The backroom of the shop was claustrophobic at best. Leighton was only able to take a few steps before she was forced to sit on the small, sinking couch. Petra sat opposite of her, in a regal looking chair of green velvet. The color offset her hair and made her pale skin vibrant looking.

The room had only one lamp and the rest of the light was provided from candles, there was no window. Along the walls was various astrological posters and tapestries varying in size, color and pattern. There were more books and trinkets in this room, but these were different as they were Petra's personal belongings and therefore not meant to be ogled at.

"I know it's stuffy," Petra acknowledged, "but the rent was good."

Leighton looked down at the book in her lap and then back at Petra. "I don't understand―"

"My mother was beautiful," Petra recalled. "She never lived in America as I was brought over here by my widowed father. From what I remember of her, she was always exciting to look at and even more thrilling to be around. I don't think she ever truly loved my father but she was fond of him."

"What happened to her?" Leighton asked, a sadness already settling in around her.

Petra smiled, a mixture of fondness and bitterness on her features. "Shortly after she had me, my mother met a handsome stranger, a dark man who was attracted to her light."

Leighton shivered. "Did he hurt her?"

"Not directly," Petra said, "but it wasn't long after their meeting that my mother died."

"And your father?"

"Was heartbroken," Petra told her. "Not only from my mother's betrayal, which I assume he always expected, but because even though she never loved him, he had loved her dearly. And even more, now it was up to him to raise a daughter who would never have a mother."

"Why are you telling me this?" Leighton asked.

"You know why," Petra said. "Because my mother fell for no ordinary man, because she, like you, and like so many before you both, she fell in love with what killed her."

"I don't―" Leighton started to protest.

Petra's eyes were sharp. "Need we continue to lie to each other, Leighton? All your questions, what I've gathered, you're reactions. I know that you've met the same creature my mother did."

Leighton said nothing. The word creature unsettled her.

"I know I'm in the business, but there is no such thing as magic. But what you've encountered, what my mother encountered, that is not magic. That is elemental. That is eternal and essential. There is no life without death. There is no soul without an afterlife. There is no light without darkness. And what you've touched, what's touched you is death, the afterlife and darkness. If you let it, it will consume you."

Leighton sprang to her feat, her spine stiff and straight. The book Petra had given her was clenched tightly beneath white knuckles. She was breathing hard but barely aware of it. She gave Petra a long, piercing look.

"You don't know him," she defended, "you don't know anything."

Petra stood as well, eyes full of pity and knowledge that terrified Leighton. "Do I not? Do I not know that my mother described the man as dark, brooding, handsome and delicate? Do I not know that she fancied herself saved by the creature that was her undoing? Do I not know that you feel the very same way?"

"I was drowning before I met him," Leighton said, almost desperately.

"Do you know that some people experience a sort of euphoric high in the weeks before their death? That some patients in palliative care actually show signs of recovery before crashing? Sometimes life becomes the sweetest just before it ends."

"My life isn't ending," Leighton argued, repeating what counselors, teachers and adults said all the time. "My life is just starting."

"You're life ended the moment you met him."

It was hard for Leighton to focus on anything after her conversation with Petra. In one afternoon she had dropped three glasses and cut her fingers on the shards each time. Leighton's entire body felt numb as she moved through Dante's Tavern mindlessly.

No distraction the pub provided could remove Leighton's thoughts from the stuffy backroom in Petra's shops. Leighton still felt as though she was trapped under Petra's mismatched gaze.

Your life ended the moment you met him.

Leighton felt her heart rate spike and quickened her pace as she wiped down a table. Petra had said that Tate would be her undoing. But wasn't this all based off Petra's mother's experiences? Wasn't this based on another woman, another man, another time?

If you let it, it will consume you

But Tate wasn't consuming her. With him, it felt like Leighton was no longer imploding. With Tate, it felt as though she was unfurling from within herself, resurfacing after a long, dark winter.

She fell in love with what killed her.

"Leighton!"

Leighton jerked forwards, her thighs banging into the table and nearly tipping it over. Taking a moment to right herself, Leighton swore lightly under her breath and arranged a smile onto her face.

Emma was peering down at her, concern clear on her porcelain features. Behind her, Leighton could see Trevor and a collection of barflies glancing her way and murmuring to one another.

Leighton's cheeks heated up as she tried to remember what she had been doing. She met Emma's worried gaze again and then felt the other girl place a hand on her shoulder.

"Are you okay?"

"Yes," Leighton answered immediately, flushing a deeper shade of crimson.

Emma's brown eyes were wide. "I thought you had lost your mind, you looked completely unhinged."

"What are you talking about?" Leighton felt the color drain from her cheeks as her whole body became numb and cold with embarrassment. It was hard not to feel the customer's stares now.

Emma shook her head slightly, "you were cleaning one spot on that table for close to five minutes." Slowly, Emma reached for Leighton's hand and removed the cloth from it, turning it in a way that allowed Leighton to see her own fingers.

They were red and raw, the skin almost breaking apart on some of them. Leighton felt shame rise up in her stomach and travel throughout her entire body. Old habits flared as Leighton became hyper aware of the appearance of her hands. She yanked them out of Emma's grasp and turned sharply on her heel, pausing in front of the bar to tell Trevor she was taking a break.

Leighton burst out the back of the pub and pressed her back to the brick wall of the tavern. The air offered little release as Leighton took a deep, humidity filled breath. Leighton hastily pulled her hair into a ponytail and held it high off of her neck, closing her eyes and taking a few deep breaths.

After a long moment, Leighton gazed out over the alleyway, a flood of memories breaking through the dam in her mind. It was almost as though she could still see Tate's silhouette crouched over the woman behind the dumpster, that sinister white light oozing from her chest and into his outstretched fingers.

Leighton almost shivered as she recalled moving Tate away from the woman. In her mind's eye, she could still see the last wisp of light evaporating into thin air and Tate's desperate pleas to get it back.

"I brought you some food, thought you might be hungry." Leighton looked up as Tate stopped just in front of her, holding up a brown bag. "I didn't know if you managed to get any money out of Killian." Tate smiled and kissed Leighton's cheek, his hand hovering just at her waist.

Leighton blinked, feeling as though she were looking at him through a pane of wavered glass. "Oh, hi, yeah, no I'm fine."

Tate leaned back as his eyes roamed her face, searching. "Are you? You look spooked."

Leighton looked over his shoulder to the large dumpster and tried her best to smile convincingly. "No, I'm fine. I'm just tired."

Tate frowned. "I'm sorry you woke up alone, I didn't stay long once you fell asleep. I had to run some, uh, errands." Leighton stared at him, wishing she could ignore the double meaning.

"Errands," Leighton echoed, hearing Petra's voice in the back of her mind.

Tate looked uncomfortable. "I can't stop being what I am, Leighton."

Leighton shook her head, dislodging Petra's warnings and smiling genuinely. "I'm happy to see you now, I am hungry." Tate smiled back and kissed Leighton lightly, making her chest swell with a furry of emotion.

"Great, well I know I don't have a good sense of these things but I brought you a sort of picnic style lunch. There's a peanut butter and cheese sandwich with hot peppers on the side―because I didn't know how you liked them and..."

Tate stopped for a moment, his eyebrows drawing together as though he were confused. Before Leighton could speak, he started back up again. "And I brought―" Tate sputtered and gasped, dropping the lunch bag and staggering into Leighton.

Surprised, Leighton grabbed onto him, struggling to keep him upright. "Tate?" she called frantically, frightened by his sudden collapse. Tate's eyes were moving rapidly from side to side and his mouth was constantly moving though he spoke no words.

As lightly as she could, Leighton twisted so Tate's back was pressed against the brick wall before she let him fall to the ground. Tate didn't seem to notice his surroundings as he began to twitch and flinch.

Leighton reached for him again but drew her hand away immediately. His skin was colder than ice, so cold it was nearly hot to the touch. Frost began to climb up the walls of the pub whilst jagged spires of ice formed underneath Tate and shot out across the alleyway.

Leighton was stunned into silence as she watched this unfold, unable to reach Tate through touch or call. Standing against the back door of Dante's Tavern Leighton only hoped she'd be strong enough to stop any employee from venturing this way.

As quickly as it all started it was over.

Tate ceased twitching and sucked in a large, dramatic breath as though he hadn't been breathing the entire time; Leighton wasn't sure if he had been. Looking around wildly, Tate started to fight his way to his feet, refusing Leighton's help when she offered it.

"Tate," Leighton called, trying to grab his attention, "Tate!"

Tate stopped moving but didn't look at her. "I have to―"

"What happened, are you alright?"

Tate's eyes were hollow. "I have to go―" he took another wild breath, "I have to go, now." Tate pushed himself off the wall and staggered forward, gaze fixed on something Leighton couldn't see.

"Let me come with you," Leighton cried, hurrying forward in an attempt to catch him. "I can help you!"

Tate said nothing and then he was gone.

The backdoor to Dante's Tavern flew open as Emma glared at Leighton, acrylic nails tapping on her arm in a less than patient rhythm. "Were you just going to take an hour long break and think we wouldn't notice?"

Leighton looked to the spot where Tate had been last before rounding the corner without a word. "I'm sorry, I lost track of time."

Emma looked around and scrunched up her nose. "I don't know why you'd even want to spend your break out here anyways. One, it smells like trash. And two, some lady died here a few months ago."

"I'm coming back in now," Leighton murmured, mind racing forward faster than she could keep up. What had just happened?

Emma hesitated for a moment, thrown off by the sound of Leighton's reply. "Well, come as quickly as you can. Dinner rush is starting." A feeling of dread overcame Leighton as she reentered the bar and a small part of her couldn't help but think this was the beginning of the end.

Days later Leighton sat in her room, legs drawn up to her chest with a book balanced on her knees. She was only really pretending to read. Every time she attempted to get absorbed in the story the words would float up off the page and dance just outside of her comprehension and she'd have to start the page over.

There was a soft knock on the door and Karen emerged, looking timid. Leighton smiled at her mother and set her book aside, folding her legs over one another and sitting up straight. When her mother said nothing, but sat at the end of her bed quietly, Leighton knew something was wrong.

"What is it?" Leighton asked, her tongue turning to stone and then ash.

Karen's eyes looked up at Leighton, tears rising like the tide against a blue backdrop. "Leighton, I'm so sorry."

Leighton's mouth opened and shut. Her chest felt constricted and for a few moments it was hard for her to get any air. "Who?" she asked, "Who died?"

"McGuinty."