Broken Visions (Page 32)
I pull my legs up and rest my chin on my knee. “No you didn’t… I saw him force you to go in there.”
She crawls toward me, reaching for my hand, dragging the chains across the floor with her. “No, you didn’t. That’s what it may have looked like, but that’s not what happened,” she says, frowning when I slide back out of her reach. “I’ve always had this gift… kind of like super willpower, and for the longest time, even after Stephan marked me, it stayed with me—made me strong against his attempted tries at making me evil.”
“When did he mark you? Didn’t you fight back?”
“That’s hard to do when there are Death Walkers. He created his army of death and picked us off one by one. Some didn’t make it out alive like Laylen’s parents.”
“I—I—But he told me his parents died in a car accident right after you were sent to The Underworld?”
“No, they died putting up a fight when Stephan ambushed them.”
A massive lump lodges in my throat. “Does Laylen know this?”
She shakes her head, kneeling in front of me. “There is a lot of memory tampering that’s gone on throughout the years, including with Laylen.”
I remember Laylen mentioning memory loss once, when he was turned into a vampire. “But then why did you choose to go to The Underworld?” I ask, fearing her answer. “Why would you ever want to go to a place like that? So full of death and torture?”
“Because I could feel Stephan gaining control over me,” she whispers, her eyes wide as she gazes off. “I was the hardest to gain control over. Even after he marked me, he still couldn’t get me to do the things he wanted, especially when it came to you. But he kept working and breaking me down and finally I felt my willpower diminishing. I knew it wouldn’t be long before I wouldn’t have power over my actions and I just couldn’t do it—I couldn’t stand around and watch them detach your soul and ruin your life.”
“So you decided just to leave me then?” I’m trying very hard not to get angry, but it’s difficult and I can feel aggravation simmering under my skin. “Even though you knew they would still take away my soul?”
“I’m so sorry.” She reaches for me again, her blue irises begging for me to understand. “But even if I stayed, it would have happened still.”
So my mom never sacrificed her life to try and save mine. She sacrificed it so she wouldn’t have to watch my life get ruined. That was the real reason and it hurt, like a knife lodged in my heart.
“So you wish I never went and saved you from The Underworld?” My anger rises through my voice as I scoot away from her.
She shakes her head erratically. “No. I understand now that running away doesn’t solve anything. Everything still happened to you, and instead of trying to fight, I gave up. I’ll never give up again. We’ll figure out a way to fix this.”
“And how are we supposed to fix it?” I snap. “Do you know how to work a f**king mapping ball? Because I sure as hell don’t.”
“Alex told me about that.” Her eyes flash cold. “So you saw your father?”
“Yeah, I saw him. And thanks for telling me he’s still alive.”
“Did he tell you what he did?” she asks harshly. “Did he tell you how he ended the world?”
“He said he made some mistakes and changed and recreated a vision so the world would end,” I tell her. “But he didn’t explain why.”
“He changed the vision because he wanted one of these.” She shoves up the sleeve of her shirt and extends her arm out, showing me the Mark of Malefiscus on her wrist just below the cuff on the chain.
I recoil away from her, shaking my head “No, I don’t believe you.”
She carries my gaze steadily. “Yes, he did. He wanted the mark. He wanted it.”
“Why!?” I cry, tears stinging the corners of my eyes.
“For power—he wanted to be powerful, just like Stephan.”
I leap to my feet, trembling with rage, fists clenched, adrenalin soaring so violently I feel like I’m getting whiplash. “You’re lying. He wouldn’t be trying to fix it, if that’s the truth.” My feelings don’t match my words, though. I’ve wondered this myself. But what she’s saying is making me furious for some reason, perhaps because she’s confirming what everyone else has been worried about—that my father is evil.
“Time changes people’s minds.” She tries to get to her feet, but the weight of the chains drags her back to the floor. “And he’s been locked up alone in the Room of Forbidden for so long, I’m sure he’s had time to clear all the power hunger out of his head.”
“No, you’re lying!” I shout. “My father didn’t make this mess because he wanted to be powerful like Stephan, because he wanted the Mark of Malefiscus. There’s no way.” But a voice whispers in my head, telling me maybe she’s right.
“You barely know him,” she says sadly. “You have no idea what he would or wouldn’t do.”
I storm out of the room, slamming the door shut behind me. My mother calls out my name, but I hurry down the hall and burst into my room. All that time invested in wondering about my parents, only to find out that one wants to be evil and one is imprinted with evil.
I snatch a brush off my dresser and chuck it across the room. It makes a loud thump as it dents the wall, and bits and pieces of paint and drywall crumble to the floor. Then I slump to the ground and lean back against the door. What am I supposed to do? Try to get back to where my dad is—to the Room of Forbidden—and get some more details on how to fix his mistakes? I’m not sure I want to do that. Not after what I was just told.
“What am I going to do?” I whisper.
Just then, the sunlight hits my window and filters through my room, onto my bed and rays of maroon reflect across my walls and ceiling. I get to my feet and inch toward my bed cautiously and see a small crystal ball filled with rubies on one of my pillows. I look around my room for someone but it’s empty. With an unsteady hand, I pick up the crystal and discover a piece of paper tucked beneath it.
“Go to the City of Crystal and get the Purple Flame. Sincerely, a friend,” I read aloud.
I flip the paper over, but there’s nothing on the back. I go over to the window, push it open, and look down at the driveway and I catch a hint of a flowery scent. But it’s probably just my imagination.