

Floodgate

Livian Grey ©2009

30/3 Productions Ltd.

Smashwords Edition

ISBN: 9781311276186

The book contained herein constitutes a copyrighted work and may not be reproduced, transmitted, downloaded, or stored in or introduced into an information storage and retrieval system in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of the copyright owner, except in the case of brief quotation embodied in critical articles and reviews. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the writer's imagination or have been used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, actual events, locales or organisations is entirely coincidental.

Chapter 1

Serena handed Patrick his third cup of coffee for the day and plonked down in the chair beside him. The heat from the cup made him put it down on the desk beside the TV.

He was still transfixed on the screen in front of him. The black and white security tape ran silently once again. Ebony Kingston, then aged five, stood still before the main assailant. She didn't tremor. She didn't even seem in touch with her reality. The gunman, Jeremy Walson, continuously jabbed the shotgun at Ebony like an accusatory finger. The other cowering patrons, who had all instantly acquiesced to Jeremy's demands, were lying facedown on the floor. Ebony remained firm in her place. She didn't even appear to be doing it as an act of defiance. She simply stood.

'Seen anything yet?' Serena asked.

'No, not yet,' he replied, more to Ebony's image than Serena. He never wanted to lose focus on the screen.

Another few seconds passed on the tape, and Jeremy's body began to noticeably quake. In the next instant, the shotgun was in his mouth, and his head exploded before he dropped to the floor.

For the maybe the hundredth time, Patrick did not see Ebony flinch. She did not duck or cry or run away. As soon as Jeremy dropped, a man came up behind her and grabbed her firmly. It was Nicholas Kingston, her adoptive father, who'd said in his statement he'd begged Ebony to lie down. He was too far out of her reach to grab her after she'd wandered away from him before Jeremy entered.

'Do you really think she did it?' Serena continued, sipping her skinny latte. This month she had thick purple highlights in her black hair, next month would be a different story.

'I still don't know. I don't even know what I'm looking for. She doesn't say anything. She just stares at him.'

'I don't think this tape is going to answer any questions, Patrick. There were ten other people in that bank that day. They all thought Jeremy was just insane. He wasn't really going to rob the place, he was just making some kind of statement. The usual cry for help shit.'

'But why didn't she just lie down?'

'She was five,' Serena sighed, exasperated. 'She didn't know what was happening to her. Weren't they trying to diagnose her with autism after that?'

'She's too emotionally intuitive to be autistic. And she knew. A five-year-old would know what a shotgun was and what it could do to them. This is something else entirely.'

'Your job is just to help keep her out of jail. This tape isn't important anymore.'

Patrick took a hit of his favourite drug and rubbed his thick, brown hair. His hand then ran over the stubble on his cheek, reminding him he needed to shave.

'It feels important. It's saying something. I just can't tell what.'

'Well, I would leave it alone.' Serena checked her watch. 'You're late for your session with the Bronson kid.'

'Shit.' Patrick switched off the VCR, got the tape out and clumsily gathered all his things together. Serena stopped him at the door and casually held out a manila folder.

'Ebony's taking up way too much of your time, Patrick. Kathleen is going to notice eventually.'

'Thanks.' He snatched the folder from her and dashed down the corridor to the interview room where fifteen-year-old Robbie Bronson was slumped in the chair, pushing a pencil around the tabletop.

He flicked his eyes up at Patrick a second then glanced down again. 'I didn't do it.'

Patrick hadn't even sat down when Robbie said this. He opened the file and took another sip of coffee.

'Like you didn't do it the last five times?' Patrick said with his eyes on the pages in front of him.

Robbie had potential. Potential to either spend his life in and out of prison or become a university graduate. He just made all the choices that would push him toward the former. He didn't think he was smart enough to be anything but a criminal. Patrick liked him, but it didn't stop him resenting Robbie's arrogance.

'I've gone over the incident,' Patrick informed him. 'It doesn't look good for you.'

'We were just outside the liquor store this time. We weren't going to knock anything off.'

'You know the judge ordered you to be home by eight every night. It's a pretty simple request, I don't see why you're having trouble adhering to this.'

Robbie said nothing.

'Who are you hanging with these days?' Patrick asked.

'Just a bunch of dorks from school. We play video games.'

'Is that all?'

'Yeah.'

'Robbie, I want to work with you. You're not helping me out here.'

Robbie sighed and pushed the pencil around some more.

'What else have you been doing with these guys?' Patrick pushed.

Sometimes Patrick wondered if it was because he looked so young — almost boyish — for thirty-two. His wife, Melinda, told him he had the kindest eyes, but now he felt this was a disadvantage, that he couldn't appear stern enough to get these kids to fall in line.

Eventually, he hoped Robbie would crack under kindness rather than abuse, and maybe one day Ebony would, too.

Ebony moved casually in amongst the racks of clothes at Harrington's department store. She wasn't seeing much she liked, though lately she'd been taking any old crap since it was fairly easy to offload it on eBay. She didn't look around to see if anyone saw her. She took a small red shirt off its hanger and slipped it into her bag then ripped off the security tag and dropped it on the floor.

She didn't care she had a record, complete with a caseworker. These were minor inconveniences to her.

At the next store she visited, she managed to lift a couple of pretty silver necklaces. It was just a little boutique with no security alarms on the door, so she slipped out undetected. Then she got bored and decided to go home.

The whole time she'd been listening to her iPod. She needed her music whenever she ventured out into the world. It drowned out the banal conversations, the wailing of fat, spoiled children, the constant complaining. She didn't really hate people, she just couldn't understand them, and could only ever see the worst in them. No matter how nice someone was to her, she could always sense some kind of blackness inside them.

On the bus, no one sat next to her, opting to stand instead. As far as she knew she wasn't hideous to look at, some guys had told her she was pretty, but she also knew there was something ugly in her no one liked.

Her pseudo-parents weren't home. They rarely were. Adoption agencies were usually very strict on who they chose to take in as wards of the court, but there were factors working against Ebony that had made it hard for her to be placed. She met many parents, most of whom fidgeted in her presence. One woman sat trembling through the whole interview and ended up walking out crying. All Ebony did was sit still and stare at her. She was only four at the time but was already aware then she was affecting people in an adverse way.

Eliza and Nicholas Kingston were the only ones interested in taking her. Eliza wanted a child without the discomforts of childbirth, and once upon a time, Nicholas loved Eliza enough to let her have anything she wanted. The added bonus with Ebony was she was already potty-trained. Eliza could have a child without the effort while getting to keep her svelte frame.

Of course, her Aryan-looking parents had to confess to owning an adopted daughter, but their circle of rich friends completely understood. Instant families without the mess were the height of fashion when Ebony came into their lives. In her mind, Ebony was like the puppy people got for Christmas that grew up to be the dog they no longer cared for since it wasn't cute anymore.

Ebony went to her room and dumped her stash of stuff on the bed. This was her post-shoplifting ritual; sorting out the things she wanted to keep from what she would end up selling. The necklaces weren't as pretty as she'd thought, but the red shirt was just baggy enough for her tastes. She tried it on, making sure it didn't fit her slender figure too tightly. She made a point of not dressing like some of the girls at her school, all short skirts and bare midriffs. She wore what she felt comfortable in, and would often steal expensive jeans then cut holes in them and wear tights underneath. Makeup wasn't an obsession of hers either, but she had plenty of kohl she liked to wear under her eyes.

Her distinguishing feature was her pale skin. She covered it in summer so she wouldn't tan. The one thing she stole more than anything was black hair dye. Her hair was already a dark shade of brown, but she liked it pitch black with no sheen or highlights. She even cut it herself, keeping it shoulder length and messy, if only to drive Eliza mad.

The only other items were a couple of ugly scarves and an equally ugly shirt Ebony hadn't bothered to look at before lifting. They all ended up in a box under her bed until she could be bothered taking pictures to post on eBay.

A car pulled up in the driveway. Eliza was home early, but that didn't mean she would stay. Ebony went downstairs to get a drink, lingering around the kitchen listening to Eliza's overpriced stilettos clack along the hallway floor.

'I'm staying in tonight,' Eliza finally said when she caught Ebony. 'What do you want for dinner?'

Ebony shrugged. 'I'm sure whatever close approximation to food you usually come up with will suffice.'

Eliza didn't register this comment. 'You have your appointment with Patrick on Tuesday. Don't forget.'

Ebony didn't reply. Patrick was assigned as her caseworker after her one arrest the year before, and he took way more interest in her than Nicholas and Eliza ever did. Their sessions, however, seemed to achieve very little. For some reason, Patrick dug up the one bit of dirt she'd wanted to forget: the security tape from the robbery she'd witnessed at five. He claimed he tried to get histories on all his cases and was only trying to piece together why Ebony behaved the way she did. But, much to her annoyance, he became enthralled with the tape and interrogated her with a strange and gentle good cop approach. Ebony humoured him a lot of the time, but all of her energy went into deflecting his questions. One horrific experience did not a criminal make, as far as she was concerned.

Eliza spent the evening with her phone attached to her ear. She set a plate of overcooked risotto in front of Ebony before she wandered off into her study to continue her conversation with Gerald, her partner at the consultancy firm she worked for.

Ebony was fairly certain Eliza was sleeping with Gerald and felt sorry for Nicholas. If his out of town business meetings meant he could have dalliances of his own, Ebony wouldn't have begrudged him. He and Eliza were destined for divorce, so Ebony knew she had to make plans of her own otherwise it was back into the system to wait for some other witless family to take her in. She wasn't particularly concerned. The money she was raising from her little business venture was going to get her out of town soon enough.

She ended up scraping the majority of her dinner into the bin. Eliza would've accused Ebony of behaving like an anorexic had she paid more attention.

Nicholas wouldn't be home until the next day. He was a lot nicer to her, but Ebony didn't associate that with love, more a sense of guilt for his absence.

Eliza came back into the room with a wistful look that unsettled Ebony. She riffled through some papers as Ebony watched her carefully, sensing there was something Eliza was scheming. Probably a rendezvous with Gerald.

'How was school?' Eliza asked bluntly.

'It was.'

Eliza stopped and shouted, 'Goddamn it, Ebony. How hard would it be for you to put in a little effort here?'

While this left of centre outburst would've shaken most teenagers, Eliza's recriminations and criticisms no longer meant anything to Ebony.

'Have another bad day?' Ebony quipped.

'Why do you make it so hard to communicate with you?'

'Nothing happened to me today. Nothing that you would find interesting.'

'No shopping expeditions?'

If she could actually feel guilty about her illegal activities, Ebony would have started sulking.

'Wow,' she laughed ironically. 'Cheap shot, mother.'

'That's it. I do everything I can but I constantly fail to live up to your outlandish expectations.'

She threw a business card in front of Ebony on the counter like a winning poker hand, then poured herself a glass of wine. The plain white card read: Dr Shane Michelson, MD Psychiatrist. The rest was all numbers and addresses.

'What the hell is this?'

'You have an appointment with him after school on Friday. Go, or you're grounded for a month.' Eliza stood over her and took a sip of wine, peering down at Ebony with malice. Ebony looked back with no amount of fear. It was hard not to laugh again.

'A psychiatrist.'

'Yes. I've done all I can. I'm leaving you in someone else's hands to deal with. Hopefully, he can help you realise there are other people in the world besides you who have feelings.'

Ebony got up off her stool and sighed.

'Eliza, your intentions on being a mother were highly honourable. You have done a great service to this country and your peers for saving me from a life of hardship and possible homelessness. I thank you from the bottom of my dark and ungrateful heart.'

Eliza put down the glass and struck Ebony across the face, storming out without saying another word.

Ebony touched the tingle on her cheek. That, she hadn't expected. Clearly Eliza was preoccupied with something much more pressing and Ebony was just a target for her rage and insecurities.

She picked up the business card. Another voice to talk at her while she daydreamed of running off to a town where no one could bother her again.

People often told Ebony she was filled with hate. The hate came after the long years of loneliness and relentless guilt over something horrible she had done.

Someone was dead because of her. They wouldn't tell her who it was, and this had helped usher in the hate and the resentment. If she could only know what she'd done wrong, she could perhaps begin to make amends.

For now, she had some pictures to take.

Chapter 2

Myra flew into Patrick's leg as soon as he came in the door. He often forgot to avoid this little ritual of hers, his mind always somewhere back in his day, overanalysing certain events. His daughter was four, and so hugely uncomplicated compared to the kids he saw all day. And yet she was in the midst of self-realisation, asking so many questions he found impossible to answer.

Luckily her next question was relatively simple. 'Where have you been?'

'Working, honey.'

He picked up Myra and carried her into the kitchen where Melinda was pulling a tray out of the oven. Her expression was a fair indication to him he'd neglected something vitally important and was soon going to hear about it.

'I'm sorry,' he said, considering a preemptive strike would maybe earn him some leniency.

She pushed back her hair from her face and looked at him blankly. 'What?'

'Whatever I did wrong that's put you in a bad mood, I'm sorry.'

Melinda shook her head and pulled some plates out of the overhead cupboards. 'You didn't do anything,' she replied.

He set Myra down on the edge of the counter and leaned across to kiss Melinda's cheek. She barely responded.

'Then what happened? You look pensive.'

'Nothing. Well, something... But it's not important, it's just got me distracted.'

Myra tugged on Patrick's collar. He took his little girl's hands and held them, keeping his eyes on Melinda while she sliced up and served small portions of lasagne onto the white plates, still not looking at him.

'You want some wine?' he asked her, hoping if he feigned disinterest for a few minutes she would involuntarily blurt out her problem. Pushing Melinda often resulted in her putting her head so far in her shell, she practically vanished.

'Yeah, thanks,' she said to the table while she placed the cutlery. He sat Myra at the table and took out a bottle of wine from the fridge.

'Daddy!' Myra cried.

'Yeah?' he smiled at her.

'We saw the future lady today.'

'Myra, shush,' Melinda scolded. 'We said we weren't going to tell Daddy about the future lady, remember?'

Patrick wasn't going to get upset about that. He really didn't mind Melinda consulted her psychic friend, Dora, for advice. He wasn't the most sceptical person in the world, his views on Ebony proved that. He just didn't believe Dora needed to charge fifty dollars to look at some illustrated cards and pretend she saw Melinda's destiny in them.

He smiled as amiably as he could. 'It's okay, Mel. Really.'

'It was a stupid idea, I knew I shouldn't have gone today. I knew it would make me feel like this.' She sat down and he handed her a glass of wine. Melinda drank nearly two-thirds of the glass before she sighed.

'Then why did you go?' he asked with tact.

'I don't know. I know you think she's a crackpot,' she blurted. 'But she's been right about other things before.'

Patrick set the plates down and started cutting up Myra's food for her. 'What did she say?'

'She said I needed to make a decision. She drew the Tower, meaning things are going to get bad. I need to decide if I want to wait around for it to happen, or if I should just get out now.'

'Things can go bad, Mel. You just deal with them as they happen. What exactly is this in relation to?'

She looked at him squarely for the first time that evening. 'Us. Things are going to go bad between us. Really bad.'

'We'll figure it out. What have we not figured out with a bit of effort and a lot of arguing?'

'She said you're going choose another girl over me. Woman. I don't know, it wasn't clear.' Melinda finished her glass and reached for the bottle to pour another.

Patrick was having difficulty tending to Myra and processing his wife's last statement. 'You're kidding me,' was the best he could manage.

'You haven't stopped talking about that one girl, Ebony, right? Who is she to you, really?'

'Are you looking for a reason to not trust me?' he suddenly snapped.

'No! I just miss you, Patrick. And I'm tired of hearing about this girl and this video. You've never been this obsessed with one of your cases.'

He let out his breath. Obsessed was such a strong word, but he had been putting too much energy into Ebony and it wasn't going anywhere.

'I'm sorry.' He knew was in the wrong, Melinda was just too afraid to pull him up on it, as usual. 'I'll make more of an effort. Maybe I should take some time off. Get some perspective. Just don't put any stock in what Dora said. Please.'

He reached across the table and took her hand. Her face finally softened and his heart melted.

'A holiday would be nice,' she smiled. 'I need a change of scenery.'

Myra giggled once she saw Melinda was calmer, but Patrick still felt uncomfortable while he ate.

Later that night, he watched Melinda brush her teeth as he sat up in bed. He stared at her pert little backside in her flannel pyjama pants and kept focusing on her curves, but for no reason, he was suddenly distracted again by Ebony.

It was ridiculous. He wasn't attracted to Ebony at all, she was a teenager. Something in her was always repelling him from her. Her eyes could cause the same sensation as a thousand pinpricks all over his skin. They occasionally had entire sessions engulfed in silence while he waited for her to speak. He needed to get away from her. The idea Ebony would poison his marriage was starting to nestle in his own brain, just as it had in Melinda's.

To test himself, he shut his eyes and tried to imagine kissing Ebony. Much to his relief, this had no effect. It didn't serve to remove the suspicion she was going to have a heavy influence on his life, regardless.

Melinda stole his attention when she crawled over the covers and leaned in to kiss him, her camisole top hanging low to reveal her firm, rounded breasts. Thankfully this was having a wonderful effect on him, and he slipped his arms around her. She planted a kiss on his mouth, her lips opening his a moment to make him fall under her spell.

'Let's go away,' she purred. 'Like you said.'

'Of course. Anywhere you want.'

She grinned mischievously and lowered her head down into his lap. Patrick settled back against the headboard and closed his eyes, finally feeling his mind clear for the first time that week.

Alone on the building site near her house, Ebony lit a cigarette and stepped through the doorway of another half-built house. The ceiling hadn't been put up yet. For some stupid reason, no one had put fences up around the new estate, so every day after school, she snuck through door frames and explored the houses. She stepped carefully over the concrete floor, past the planks of wood, smelling the plaster and damp concrete. As soon as one place had doors and windows, she picked another that was only walls and a floor.

She found a room that would probably one day be a bedroom and slid down the brick wall to sit on the concrete.

Her appointment with Shane Michelson was in an hour, so she needed some downtime before she faced him. She debated whether she should tell Patrick she was seeing someone else.

Ebony liked Patrick, and she didn't like people easily. The only reason she did like him was he didn't tell her what to do. He just wanted to understand her. She didn't think there was much about her that anyone would find remotely interesting, yet Patrick seemed ridiculously intrigued by her.

If he'd just shut the hell up about the stupid security tape, their relationship would be a lot more productive.

She took the last drag of her smoke and put it out. Looking up, she watched the clouds move slowly across the sky. Being in the roofless room made her feel like she was in a shoebox, waiting for a huge face to peer over her. A few drops hit her forehead, so she reluctantly slipped out the window frame.

Shane Michelson's office was a bus ride away from the new estate. The young girl at his reception desk was on the phone with another patient, and she dismissively pointed at the seats when Ebony approached her.

'No, I'm sorry, he can't fit you in today. It will have to be tomorrow... Alright, calm down, Damien... Yes, I understand.' The girl was becoming more flustered as the conversation went on. Ebony sat down and watched her as she rolled her eyes and desperately tried to terminate the call.

'The only thing I can do is have Dr Michelson call you later this evening. I'll tell him it's urgent... Yes... Goodbye, Damien.'

She set the phone down and sighed angrily, suddenly glaring at Ebony. When their eyes locked, the girl froze and her face sank. She quickly got up and went through the filing cabinet behind her like she was searching desperately for hope in amongst the files.

At that point, a sandy-blond thirty-something man opened the door to the office on Ebony's right. A young woman walked out ahead of him in tears and went to the receptionist desk to pay. Ebony felt sorry for the woman having to give money to someone who had clearly made her cry. She assumed the man was Shane, as he beckoned her into the room with a strange half smile.

She went past him into his office, keeping an eye on him the whole time. He motioned her to take a seat then perched on the office chair in front of her. The silence lasted for about ten seconds, and in that time, she sized him up as best she could. She couldn't seem to make him uncomfortable with her interminable staring. His condescending smile remained and she noticed his eyes seemed dead.

'Why are you here, Ebony?' Shane asked her.

'Because my mother will ground me otherwise.'

'No other reason?'

Ebony shrugged. 'None that I can think of.'

'You seem to care enough about the consequences to show up here now.'

'It's easier to do what she wants.' Ebony paused and considered Eliza for a moment. She'd made the call and had interfered, so how much had she told Shane? 'What do you know about me?'

'Enough to know you need my help more than you realise.' His smile stretched slightly.

She tried not to vomit. 'She told you about the holdup, didn't she.'

'You experienced a traumatic childhood experience, Ebony. I'd like to understand why you're refusing to take your mother's help to deal with this.'

She would have chortled, but she only snorted out her derision. 'She's fed you a lot of bullshit.'

'Then why don't you tell me your side of it?'

'My side? I don't even care about my side. Do you really want to hear about what it feels like to have someone else's brains splattered all over your face?'

'I'll hear whatever you like, Ebony.'

She stood up. 'No, you won't. I'm not participating in this lunacy.' She marched to the door and turned the handle.

'You will, Ebony. Once a week for as long as it takes. You either have me on your case or Eliza.'

'Eliza is of no use to me. Trust me, you can't help either.'

She yanked open the door and shot past the receptionist, not caring she was meant to pay. Fumes of anger drifted off her all the way home.

Chapter 3

Patrick sat waiting for Ebony the following Tuesday, his mind drifting back to his last time with Melinda. It was more the afterglow he was remembering now, her head resting on his chest and her soft chestnut hair brushing his neck. She'd murmured to him about all the places they could go on their trip, and he was hoping Kathleen wouldn't be stingy about his leave request. He hadn't asked for a day off in months. Besides that, he owed Melinda more than just one evening of wedded bliss.

His daydreams were interrupted when Ebony slinked into the interview room and plonked herself in the metal chair opposite him. She looked more dejected than usual.

'What happened?' he asked.

She flipped her hair back and sighed, dramatically. 'I'm sorry, Patrick,' she said breathlessly, like a soap opera starlet. 'I'm having an affair.'

Patrick impulsively chuckled. Her sardonic wit was part of her strange charm, but it made his skin crawl with guilt that he found her beguiling.

He purposefully cleared his throat. 'Care to elaborate?'

'Mother dearest sent me to a psychiatrist, Shane Michelson. He's a douchebag.'

'But do you think he could help you?'

'Nobody can help me, Patrick. You know that.'

'Did you tell him about your record?' Patrick picked up his coffee and sipped it.

'No. But Eliza probably did. I'm pretty sure she told him everything since he knows about the robbery. He thinks I'm some messed up kid with a messed up past.'

'What do you think you are?'

'I'm nobody. Or rather, I'm an orphan and a criminal. Society's garbage. What else could I possibly be?'

'You're not garbage, Ebony.'

She slumped back in her chair and folded her arms.

Patrick leaned forward a little. 'What do you want out of this? Do you want to keep seeing this doctor?'

'Of course I don't, but Eliza won't leave me alone if I stop seeing him. She's a fraud. Sending me to him only makes her look like she's trying harder.'

'What did Nicholas think?'

'He hasn't said much to me since he got home. He can't help, and he won't. Sometimes I wish he would just leave Eliza. She's cheating on him, I know she is. He deserves better than us.'

Patrick sighed and made some notes. As much as said she said hated the world, he knew Ebony really put most of her hatred upon herself.

'You seem trapped,' he said at last.

'I am. But I don't have to be. You would think not knowing that much about your past would be liberating.'

'Do you want to know more?' he asked, knowing he was once again prompting her to be more open about the tape.

'I don't know. I'm too busy trying to get through each day.'

'So the robbery doesn't really mean anything to you, does it.'

She lifted her eyes, then raised a single eyebrow. 'It means more to you, Patrick. I just don't see why.'

'Because I think it has a lot more answers in it than you think. Answers about yourself that you desperately need.'

'I don't have any desperation about that. You're the only one that seems to be desperate to find meaning in it.'

Patrick wanted to keep going with the topic as long as he could, perfectly aware that she could shut down about it at any moment.

'It has to mean something. You showed no fear, Ebony. Do you remember what you were thinking?'

She cast her eyes upwards, a sign she was trying to remember something. It gave him a twitch of excitement.

'I was thinking how much blackness was coming out of him when he stared at me. I remember him being covered in it. It looked like a huge cloud or a swarm of gnats. And it was just pouring out of his eyes and mouth. But it was like he saw it too, and it scared him so much that he wanted he die. So he shot himself.'

Patrick realised his breathing had become shallow. When she fell silent again, he released some air.

'A black cloud?' he asked.

'Swirling black.'

He presented his next words with caution. 'An aura?'

'That's bullshit.'

'Maybe it isn't. Maybe you can see auras.'

Ebony snorted. 'I don't believe in that crap.'

'My wife does.'

She smirked. 'Thought you'd have married someone smarter than that, Patrick.'

Ebony could be unbelievably caustic at times and he'd be forced to call her on it. Sometimes she cared, sometimes she didn't.

'She's very intelligent, actually,' he said patiently. 'Melinda just thinks there's more out there than what she sees. I'm starting to think the same.'

Ebony's voice was covered with more sarcasm now. 'I stand corrected. You chose wisely.'

He didn't want to let her adolescent insults deter him from pressing on with the matter at hand. He had a vital piece of the puzzle now.

'Do you still see that cloud with other people?'

She dropped her head. 'No. Haven't seen it since.'

'Why do you think you saw it with Jeremy?'

'I don't know. Maybe the same reason an octopus squirts ink when it's threatened. Like a defence mechanism.'

Mechanisms were now churning away in Patrick's brain. She had been threatened by Jeremy, so, in that case, it made perfect sense, whether she was scared or not.

A knock drew him out of his thoughts and made him as irritable as a dog that had been woken up for no reason. Serena popped her head in.

'Time's up, Patrick.'

'Five more minutes,' he begged.

'Forget it. Kathleen is about five seconds behind me, snorting smoke. I can't deal with her today. Please.'

'See you next week, Patrick.' Ebony stood and let all her dark contemplations slip to the floor. She hardly acknowledged Serena on the way out. Serena's reaction was just to shake her head, defeatedly. Patrick left the room with her and she vanished when Kathleen materialised around the corner.

'Patrick, we need to talk.'

Again his skin tingled guiltily. He faced Kathleen with as casual a smile as he could manage. 'What's up, Kathleen?'

'I want you off Ebony Kingston's case. It's taking up too much of your time, she's not making progress with you.'

'No, she is. We just had a really productive session.'

'Patrick, she's not been caught, but I've had reports of her taking things from Harrington's again. It was a huge effort to get the store manager not to press charges.'

'I finally got her to open up about the robbery. We're making a connection. I think if I can get through to her she won't feel so destructive.'

'You've been working with her for months now. She's not an intricate puzzle, not in the way you think. She's a screwed up kid, just like the rest of them. Just like Robbie Bronson.' She practically shoved Robbie's file towards him. 'You can't afford to ignore all your other cases. I'll consider your leave request in the meantime.'

A rebuttal to this blow wasn't going to come. His jaw jutted as Kathleen marched away down the corridor.

The rest of his day was tainted with distraction and frustration. Robbie was his usual belligerent self. Afterwards, Patrick spent time in his office going over his other case files.

He knew them pretty well, but he hadn't dedicated nearly as much time to them as he should have and was falling behind on his case notes and follow-ups. Cassandra Phillips, sixteen, drug dealing teen mother with no job prospects. Nate Withers, sixteen, who'd taken to selling stolen game consoles and other equipment out the back of his brother's van. Joey Fielding, fifteen, heroin-addicted parents, in and out of correctional facilities for carjacking...

He cared enough to keep trying with them, but these kids didn't have a lot of going for them. Does Ebony? he wondered. His conscience yelled at him that he needed to get away from her and get some clarity.

Then he considered who would be assigned to her, and in the useless way jealous ex-boyfriends swore no one could treat their girl the same, he couldn't help thinking someone else wouldn't give Ebony the patience and care she needed.

As much as he would come to regret it, Patrick was seriously considering seeing Ebony off the clock. Contacting her wouldn't be difficult. It would be all the covering for his actions he needed to do that would prove taxing.

He only knew he had to tell Melinda what he was planning. If he didn't, he could pretty much kiss his marriage goodbye.

Ebony figured picking up your sixteen-year-old adopted daughter at the police station probably wasn't the highlight of anyone's week. Nicholas was more reliable than Eliza, so the duty of collecting Ebony often fell upon him. It meant they could have what most therapists referred to as "quality time". It was hardly quality to Ebony. This day, like all others, they drove in silence for most of the journey.

'How are your sessions with Patrick going?' Nicholas finally asked.

'Fine.'

He was a very stoic driver. Other activities that went on around him while he was on the road were never much of his concern. He would sometimes talk on his Bluetooth to colleagues at his job as a software developer. Now was one of the times she wished someone one would call him.

'Eliza told me about Shane Michelson,' Nicholas said. 'He still charged her for the whole hour even though you stormed out after two minutes.'

'That sounds about right. He's an asshole.' One thing Ebony appreciated about Nicholas was his nonchalance towards her potty mouth. He treated her like coworker more than a daughter, yet in many ways, this suited her. Nicholas had never patronised her, regarding her like a small adult from when she was only six years old.

'Eliza would prefer it if you'd stay longer next time.'

'She would prefer a lot of things to having me as a daughter,' she quipped.

Nicholas sighed and she felt a twinge. Eliza already had him by the balls, Ebony didn't need to kick them as well.

'Do you need me to go?' she asked.

He smiled wanly. 'It would be nice, but you don't have to. I can probably negotiate with her.'

'No, I doubt that'll work. You know she hates it when she doesn't get her way.' Ebony gave in. 'If she'll leave us both alone, I'll do it.'

Nicholas pulled up in the driveway and finally looked at her with his haggard face. 'Thank you, Ebony.'

His defeat struck her harder than normal. To know that she caused him this level of frustration was painful for her. She'd known this pain to come from another source many years before.

Please, Ebony, a woman's voice sobbed in her head. Sometimes Ebony couldn't turn it off, even with loud music or blaring TV. Please stop...

'I'll be home after nine,' Nicholas told her. 'Tell Eliza I'll eat at the office.'

'I wish I could eat at the office,' Ebony said. 'The risotto she made last night was gross.'

Nicholas chuckled as she got out of the car. 'If I'm home early tomorrow, I'll bring something with me.'

She made the smallest of waves as he drove off, though it went undetected by him, much like most of her other actions.

Eliza wasn't home, so Ebony turned her stereo up to the window shaking level and sat at her computer to check her current auctions. The bids were reasonable; ten bucks here, fifteen there. Dribs and drabs. She would have to start lifting serious items to make serious cash, but she didn't have the guts to take it up that far. Crappy jewellery and clothes were the best she could manage.

She wasn't smart enough to organise a heist. She knew some kids in her school who ran in the city gangs, but she wasn't sure she'd be able to get in on the game. She would be out for herself, while those kids usually took the goods back to the higher-ups, so she knew the cut wouldn't benefit her at all.

Ebony idly wondered what led Jeremy to believe robbing a bank was his only option. The news reports mentioned he was part of some group, but they didn't seem to be affiliated with any known mobs or notorious gangs. She guessed they were all poor, or they needed to pay off a major debt for which a bank would never issue a loan. Before Jeremy had even looked at her, he'd seemed desperate to finish the job quickly.

She tried not to give Jeremy a lot of consideration anymore. Her sleep was no longer darkened by the memory, which was why Patrick's continual attempts to broach the subject had to be met with a deflective comment or perfect silence. She'd let him go way too far that day and now her chest hurt.

The memory of broken skull and slimy blood on her face made her subconsciously wipe her cheek and forehead with her fingers. She didn't want any of this to have significance in her life now, but it did. The cloud around him was something she never even mentioned to the police when she'd made her statement. The concerned faces of the detectives as they spoke discretely with Nicolas in the corner suggested to her they wouldn't accept her retelling of the events. She'd have been seen to be making up stories — a traumatised child's right some would say, but counter-productive nonetheless.

The black cloud never came back. She remembered it seeping out of Jeremy's eyes and nose with the same fluidity as tears. As his mouth opened, a fist-sized plume emerged from between his lips, and she noticed a head within the cloud that had a man's face, twisted with rage. It shouted at her, but the words weren't meant for her.

'Goddamn you, boy. What's wrong with you?'

Jeremy started to sob. 'No... Please.'

The head stretched forward and turned itself on Jeremy, still attached to the swirling smoke coming from his mouth. Ebony heard it continue to berate Jeremy while he whimpered like a little boy.

'You're nothing.'

Jeremy began to weep, though Ebony couldn't remember feeling any sorrow for him. He lifted the gun to his mouth, and in a flash, his entire head disappeared. Ebony watched his knees fall from under him before the rest of his body collapsed. One of Jeremy's associates began screaming as she ran to him.

Men in black flak jackets stormed the room. The two robbers by the door, who'd been on watch, were instantly detained while the hostages were piled out. Nicholas finally knelt before her and grabbed her shoulders.

'Goddamn it, Ebony! What the hell is wrong with you?' His anger had failed to mask his distress. He'd been sweating, wiping his face while he spoke. His voice had only blended into the cacophony around her. Ebony continued to stand there, unmoved by the calamity and the blood. She'd vacantly watched on as Jeremy's body was zipped up and carted away by two paramedics.

Nicholas's consternation remained as he'd picked the shards of bone from Ebony's hair and cleaned her face with his handkerchief. She'd tried to find the handkerchief later to look at it, guessing it had been taken as evidence or burned by Nicholas when it didn't show up.

Now, as it was all being replayed, Ebony wondered if Nicholas had wanted to hold her and had just been too terrified by her actions to do so. He'd sat with her as she spoke to the police, stating his resentment that she was being subjected to questioning and arguing the camera footage should have been enough. She didn't cry. She coped with it better than he had. The detectives argued it was standard procedure to get statements from all the witnesses.

Remembering it all now was just upsetting her, and she kicked the bottom of her desk when her frustration got the better of her.

A car pulled up outside and she crawled over her bed to look out the window. Eliza was stepping out of her Mercedes, her phone still attached to her ear. All her useless decadence sickened Ebony. She hated money really, and she hated more the fact she needed it to get out of her current situation.

She couldn't rob a bank, she couldn't join a gang. She knew these things would piss Patrick off, and for some reason, his opinion of her still mattered enough to create a conflict in her heart. At that point, Ebony asked herself if she could just simply make a run for it with what little she had.

Still, how far could she make it before the black hole that was her life dragged her back into its core?

Chapter 4

'I don't get it,' Melinda said when the footage stopped.

'She didn't flinch. She didn't run or get down on the floor.' Patrick pointed at the screen with the VCR remote while he spoke. 'If you were five with a loaded gun in your face, wouldn't you wet your pants at least?'

'Kids are pretty desensitised to violence nowadays. Why do you think I don't let her watch a lot of TV?' Melinda nodded towards Myra, who was sitting across the room. She'd made sure Myra couldn't see the video, even though Myra herself was too absorbed in brushing the pink tail of her My Little Pony. 'Maybe she really didn't understand what was happening.'

Patrick didn't think so. 'She said she saw something like an aura around Jeremy. Right before he shot himself.'

'An aura? I think she's jerking you around, Patrick.'

'She seemed really uncomfortable when she mentioned it.'

Melinda flicked her hair out of her eyes with her hand. 'Why are you showing me this if you've been taken off her case?'

Patrick quickly wiped the top of his lip. 'I'm working on this in my own time.'

'You don't get paid for that.'

'I know. But no one else is willing to pay attention to this. Not even her parents. It explains a lot of her behaviour, but nothing about her.'

'What of it explains her behaviour?'

Patrick had married Melinda at a time when her patience seemed infinite, only now he saw how low her reserves were, especially for this situation.

'I think she sees life as a pointless hurdle she has to get over. She hasn't been exposed to any healthy or positive people. I've met her adoptive parents, Eliza is a cold woman and Nicholas seems completely disinterested in Ebony to me. Her shoplifting is treated like a minor inconvenience in their lives, not an obvious cry for help. Now she's been sent to a psychiatrist.' The contempt in him slipped out with the last word. He was still questioning this feeling in himself. Again, the sense he was acting like a jealous boyfriend made him unsettled and guilty.

'That's probably not a bad idea, she needs a trained professional. She's basically an orphan, Patrick. She's mad at the whole world and to get back at it, she steals and makes her parents angry. Even if this suicide hadn't happened right in front of her, I think she'd still be bitter and upset. She'd still be acting out.'

'And I wouldn't be half as interested in her?' he replied, picking up on the insinuation.

'Perhaps.'

'I don't even know why it bothers me so much. Just ever since I first saw this tape, I couldn't dismiss that there was something weird going on.' He wound back the footage to the second before the gun went off. Ebony's stoicism unnerved him even now. 'She said she saw something seeping out of Jeremy. A black cloud. She speculated it could've been a means of defence for her, but she hasn't seen the same thing since.'

'Do you think someone could see what she was seeing?' Melinda asked.

'What do you mean?'

'Maybe Dora knows someone who can read videotapes and photographs. People who can see the stuff we can't see.'

Patrick felt so much love for Melinda when she said this. Even if she was humouring him, he couldn't help thinking the tape was bothering her, too.

'Would you speak to Dora? Maybe show her the tape?'

'I'll mention it to her at least. See if she knows anyone. It's a long shot...'

'Perhaps we could introduce her to Ebony.'

Melinda became cagey. 'I thought you said not to put too much stock in Dora's words. Besides, Ebony herself said the aura theory was BS.'

'I know, but I'm running out of straws to grasp.'

'You'll have to be careful, Patrick. Pursuing this could get you fired.'

'I know.' He stood up and took out the tape.

Melinda went to him and made him look at her. 'Is she worth that? Losing your job?'

Patrick didn't know what to say. Melinda seemed more agitated now than usual. She told Myra it was time to go to bed.

As Patrick picked her up, Myra asked, 'What's an aura?'

Myra was very good at seeming to not pay attention to conversations. Now and then, she exhibited eccentricities from both himself and Melinda, like his pattern of speech or the fixated stare Melinda had when trying to understand something. She'd inherited Melinda's green eyes and chestnut hair, along with his roundish nose. But each day she was establishing her own identity, becoming a whole person, not just the sum of her parts.

Patrick gave Myra a kiss goodnight before Melinda took her upstairs. He then sat and stared at the tape in his hand as the resentment began to build. Ebony didn't care much for him really, so why would he want to lose his job helping her? Why was he investing so much emotional energy into this when she had no interest and wanted to leave her past behind her? He put the tape back into its cardboard jacket and tossed it into his briefcase before closing it with some defiance.

Up in Myra's room, Melinda was having trouble getting Myra to go to sleep.

'But how can people see things that aren't there?' Myra pushed, her inquisitiveness clearly exhausting Melinda.

'Some people have ways of seeing things that others can't,' Melinda went on. 'They're special.'

'If I could see things, would I be special, too?'

'You already are, honey,' Patrick said. He pushed back the door and sat on her bed. 'You are in your own way.'

'Can I meet Ebony?' asked Myra.

Melinda turned to Patrick, and the look she gave him told him she wasn't going to answer that.

'No, Myra,' Patrick told her. 'Not right now. She's very unhappy and I can't make her happy again.'

That's what it was. Something about the sorrow that Ebony tried so hopelessly to mask ate at Patrick. He hadn't known that sorrow in anyone since his long-suffering mother, Ursula. Meanwhile, the expression on Melinda's own face was punishing him as well. She was just as miserable as Ursula had been when he was younger. Melinda was his priority, not Ebony, and now after this exchange, Myra looked just as unhappy.

He wasn't doing a very good job at making anyone feel better about anything.

The following night, Eliza was speaking furtively on her phone when Ebony came down to get something to eat. Upon seeing Ebony, Eliza abruptly strutted off into her study. The door slammed shut and Ebony rolled her eyes.

Nicholas came home when Ebony hadn't been expecting him at all. He was carrying plastic bags and she instantly smelled Chinese food.

'Thank God,' she said to him. 'I can't stomach another night of leftovers.'

Nicholas was obviously too exhausted to even smile at this. 'She's in her study, isn't she.'

He knew. He must have known. The only thing Ebony could think then was why he didn't just leave Eliza. The courage to say it, however, completely eluded her.

She helped him get out the boxes of food then poured herself a drink of lemonade.

'I have some emails to check,' he told her. 'If she ever comes out, tell her about the food or she'll never eat.'

'Nicholas...' Ebony started.

'Yeah?'

She faltered a second, deciding to tell him not to worry. Then her mouth betrayed her and did the opposite. 'Do you remember much about that day at the bank?'

He set down a clear plastic box of fried rice on the counter, growing tense from her question. 'I remember pretty much everything. Why do you ask?'

'The guy who shot himself. Did you notice anything weird happening to him before he did it?'

'I didn't think you'd ever want to talk about this.' He glanced over at the closed door of the study before he ushered her into the front room they hardly used. Turning on the huge lamp by the couch, he sat her down then perched himself on the edge of the armchair. 'What's made you bring it up now?'

'My caseworker, Patrick.' She dropped back against the sofa. 'He has a copy of the security tape. He grills me about it a lot.'

'Ebony, Jeremy was a nut. He got scared. He was going to get caught, so he took the coward's way out.'

'No, I don't think so. I don't think he wanted to die. I think I made him kill himself.'

Nicholas stared at her. 'Why would you say that? That doesn't make any sense.'

She turned to stare at the carpet, feeling like an idiot. 'I saw something coming out of him. Some kind of weird black mist... and it was speaking to him, calling him a failure. He was crying.'

'I saw him crying,' Nicholas said. 'Everyone saw that. You weren't doing anything, you just stood there.'

'Yes, I was. I'm sure of it. I didn't think I was scared of him, but maybe I was. I just stared at him, I didn't move. He could have shot me, but he shot himself.'

'I think you just feel guilty about what happened,' Nicholas said, seeming to opt for sympathy over condescension. 'You feel bad you didn't do as he said.'

'Nicholas, c'mon. That's dumb.'

'None of it was your fault, Eb.' He rarely called her that. 'You haven't done anything to anyone.'

'But I did. And it wasn't just him. It happened to someone else, too.'

Nicholas fidgeted. 'Maybe you should discuss this with Shane.'

Ebony prickled at this. 'Don't dismiss me,' she said. 'What else do you know? Why was I alone? Why did everyone at that orphanage treat me like a demon child? What did I do?'

He slumped against the armchair and smoothed his hair back. 'It wasn't your fault. Your mother was very sick, Ebony. She had postnatal depression.'

'So, if she'd never had me, she would have been okay?'

'She wanted to have you, I'm sure of it. But sometimes our bodies betray our minds. That's all that happened. She couldn't cope so she decided to end her life.'

'Because of me,' Ebony murmured. This made more sense now. The guilt, the self-loathing... now she had a reason for it.

'No,' Nicholas insisted. 'Don't ever think that.'

'If I'm not to blame, then why were those stuck up nuns so awful to me?' She recalled the hooded women now, their stern and twisted faces judging her. The younger ones had backed away from her, sharing whispers while keeping an eye on her.

'Some people are just overly superstitious. It took them a while to find someone for you. You just make some people... uncomfortable.'

'Some people?' she quizzed incredulously. 'By which you mean you, right?'

She'd never seen him so ashamed. 'Eliza doesn't seem that affected by you, but yes, I'm including myself in that statement.'

'What do I do to people? Tell me how bad it is, and don't sugarcoat it.'

Nicholas shifted again. She was tired of being subjected to interrogations from others, she wanted someone else to suffer now. It should have been Eliza. Ebony wasn't good at choosing her victims.

'When you look at me,' Nicholas said, keeping his eyes away from hers, 'and you did this a lot when you were little... when you stare at me, you make me doubt myself. I know I haven't been the world's greatest dad to you, I don't know if I was even meant to be a father. But I doubt myself completely, and I come to just... loathe myself, almost to the point I feel crippled by it. It's not even like you're judging me, maybe you are, but either way, I can't stand to be near you. You frighten me. And I've seen you do the same to others.'

'If I can make you feel that awful, then it couldn't be that inconceivable I did the same to Jeremy Walson.'

The thoughts she had then caused a momentary delay before the next wave of guilt hit her. Nicholas was looking just as remorseful.

'I'm sorry,' she said. 'I'll try not to make you feel that way anymore.'

'I used to think you either felt a certain way about something or you didn't. I was too afraid to tell you all this, in case you ended up hating me more.'

'I don't hate you. I don't know what I'm doing. I just look at people sometimes, and they turn away in disgust or fear.' Ebony dropped her voice. 'Now I realise they're not disgusted with me, they're ashamed of themselves. I make people feel ashamed.'

Nicholas headed towards the stairs. 'Come on, I need to show you something. Maybe keeping it from you is the reason why I feel so awful, and if I show you, I won't feel this way anymore.'

Ebony followed a step behind him to the main bedroom. Inside the mirrored wardrobe was an old trunk that wasn't locked. She'd been told explicitly by Eliza to stay out of the wardrobe. Now Ebony questioned why she hadn't simply disobeyed the order since she was so accustomed to recalcitrance when it came to Eliza.

Nicholas opened the trunk and pulled out a shoebox. Sitting on the bed, he handed it to Ebony and explained, 'Eliza didn't want you seeing pictures of your mother. Her ego would've been damaged by it. Now, I couldn't care less. You should see these, it's not right for us to keep these things from you.'

She sat beside Nicholas, regarding the box as though it contained a trap or poison that would kill her when she opened it. Lifting the lid, she saw the contents were fairly typical; photographs, a couple of blank postcards and a coppery looking bracelet. The very first photo had been yellowed by time. A tall man with dark brown hair and a stern, sharp face stood with his arm around a woman's shoulder. She was much shorter, and she had Ebony's dark hair and a much prettier smile. Ebony's heart crumbled.

'She's my mother.'

'She is.' Nicholas stared at the picture with Ebony. 'The nuns said her name was Josie. I think that man is your uncle, but they never disclosed his name to us.'

'Well, they look pretty similar.'

Ebony pulled out a couple more shots. One was of another tall man with ashen hair and broad shoulders. He was standing in a backyard beside a vegetable patch, offering a grim expression to the camera. She flipped it over to see the smudged, barely legible description that read Philip, 1989.

'Is he my dad?'

'Yes, that's him,' Nicholas said. 'I'm not sure what happened to him.'

She shuffled the picture behind the others to see the next shot: a polaroid of the man from the first photograph with her mother. He was beside Josie, who was sat up in a hospital bed, holding a baby. They both appeared miserable.

'God, I wasn't alive ten minutes and she was already unhappy.'

She felt Nicholas's hand rub her back. He was actually trying to comfort her for once. 'It's just a picture.'

Ebony quickly slipped this shot behind the others as well. The last photo was of an old woman sitting by a lace curtain, staring out the window, expressionless. Ebony's stomach knotted.

'My grandmother...'

'I believe so. I hate looking at this photo, I don't know why. She makes me feel...'

'Guilty,' Ebony answered.

She shoved the pictures back in the box and picked up the copper band, noticing it was tarnished badly as she ran her fingers over the inside. Suddenly her breathing ceased. Her eyes clouded over and her body began quaking as she made a tiny cry for help.

Please stop, Ebony. Please! I'm sorry. I won't hurt you... I made a mistake... please...

The band fell from her hands onto the carpet with a small thud, and the box toppled from her lap, the photographs spilling over the floor. Nicholas was grasping her now.

'Ebony!' He kept shouting but he sounded like he was underwater. 'Talk to me.'

Eliza stormed into the room. 'Nicholas! What the hell?'

Her presence startled Ebony out of her daze and shattered the sound of weeping in her head. Eliza instantly began picking up the pictures in a fury, throwing the band back into the shoebox and cramming it onto another shelf in the wardrobe.

'Ebony, get out.'

'Leave her alone,' Nicholas barked.

Ebony dashed from the room. Once she was behind her own bedroom door, she knelt down and put her ear to the wood to hear their argument. It carried on out into the hallway.

'Don't you think she hates us enough?' Nicholas shouted. 'Why should we hide it from her?'

'Her mother was deranged. She was going to kill Ebony over some hormonal imbalance, and Ebony has the gall to treat me like the Devil in all of this? Where is her father? Tell me that. We've given her a much better life than anyone could have.'

'That doesn't mean much if you hardly care about her,' came Nicholas's retort.

Eliza's cruel laugh was sickening. 'And where are you half the time?'

The argument drifted downstairs out of Ebony's earshot. She stayed against the door, paralysed. The only movement she could feel was of her tears slowly sliding down her cheeks.

The shouting continued for another ten minutes. It continued up the stairs and then down again and ended with the sound of the front door slamming and a car starting up in the driveway.

She didn't have to go and see who was leaving. She knew it wasn't Eliza.

Chapter 5

Patrick didn't have the dream often now, but when he did he always woke up in a sweat and had to pace around downstairs for an hour or more before he could sleep again.

He was small in the dream, very small. He could see was a man with his back to him as he was peeking through a crack in the door. The room was dark, and the man was standing at a workbench. There were tools on the wall in front of him. The man would then raise his arm and point to his head with his hand, or so it seemed to Patrick. It was too hard to see. The dream always ended with a loud bang.

As a child, Patrick usually wet the bed during these dreams. They went on for years. Ursula would become pensive whenever he mentioned it, yet she wouldn't discuss it. Dreams didn't mean anything to her. Nothing much did, since she was always horribly and self-indulgently depressed.

Downstairs, Patrick finally grew weary of wearing out the same patch of carpet and forced himself to sit down.

As soon as Patrick was old enough to think for himself, he realised what had happened to his dad and confronted Ursula about it, demanding to know why they never talked about it. She dissolved into a mess of tears, shouting at him to stop talking about it. That night she was admitted to a hospital for a month. Her drinking and her moods were too much for both of them. He left home at eighteen and promised himself he wouldn't return.

The reality was, seeing Ebony have no reaction to Jeremy's death sickened him. He hated her for not seeming affected by such tragedy, that she shrugged it off like it had no significance. And now he was risking his career over it while she constantly skirted around the issue.

He picked up the copy of the tape. He knew he could destroy it; the original was still in a closed case file with the police. All he would have to do was toss it away, better still break it open and rip out the tape inside. Lifting the protective flap at the back, he plucked at the tape, but he couldn't bring himself to pull on it.

Nothing felt right now. Instead, he tossed the tape aside and covered his face with his hands.

'Can't sleep?' Melinda came in and sat beside him. The tape had ironically landed on a cushion between them.

'I had that dream again, about my dad. I haven't had it in years.'

'I'm sorry,' she muttered. She always apologised for things that weren't her fault, saying it was her way of expressing sympathy since she never knew what else to say to someone when something awful happened.

Patrick squeezed her knee. 'It's okay.'

'No, it isn't. You're hanging on to Ebony because she's you. You can't figure out why your dad killed himself, and you can't figure out why Ebony didn't react to a suicide that happened right in front of her. None of it makes sense.'

'But Ebony doesn't care if it makes sense.'

'She does. From what you've told me, I think she's more tortured by it than you realise.'

He turned to Melinda. 'What should I do?'

'I can't decide that for you. We can show the tape to Dora. If no one sees anything, maybe then we can let it go.' She took his hand.

'I don't know why you put up with me,' he said, feeling the sudden urge to start weeping.

'That's easy, stupid,' she smiled. 'Because I love you.'

Defeat — and perhaps a little lunacy on her part — landed Ebony back in Shane's office the next day. Her first choice was Patrick but when she got to the station, some surly bitch told her he was no longer her caseworker. She now had a new one, some woman named Trisha, who Ebony was supposed to see on Tuesday at the usual time. Protesting about it got her nowhere, and she couldn't help being pissed at Patrick. She finally needed him and he'd given up on her.

She couldn't call Nicholas, either. Ebony wanted to keep her distance from him. He'd said all he could to her now, she couldn't blame him for going. Eliza hardly seemed fazed. Waiting for something to happen then seeing it happen meant it shouldn't have been a surprise. And yet she was still in shock that Nicholas finally gave up and walked.

'It's my fault,' she told Shane, furious she had no one else to talk to.

'Why do you say that?'

'He told me I make him feel bad. I've been messing with people's heads. Someone's dead because of it... Make that two people.'

Shane crossed his leg on his thigh and made a few notes. 'The man in the holdup? Jeremy?'

'Yeah. And my mother. My real mother.'

'How did you kill your mother, Ebony?'

'I came out of her. She got all depressed, then she killed herself.'

Shane laughed condescendingly. She could have stabbed him. 'I don't think you're responsible for that. That's very egotistical of you to think that.'

'Excuse me?'

'You see yourself as the centre of other people's misery. This is simply your ego talking. People are responsible for their own actions.'

'Then why did Nicholas tell me I make him loathe himself?'

'Nicholas just left you and Eliza,' Shane said simply. 'He wants someone else to blame for his marriage failing.'

Ebony narrowed her eyes. She had a new victim in her sights now — the right one. She should have learned to choose more carefully. Drawing on her frustration, Ebony glared at him ardently while he continued to write about her on his notepad. When Shane glanced up, she tried to make the mist come out of his eyes. He only looked perplexed.

'Is something the matter, Ebony?'

She was almost squinting at him. Nothing. Just like Eliza.

'Fuck this shit,' she muttered.

'Why do you think you're so responsible for everyone's misery?'

'I don't know why. I just know I have a certain... influence on people.'

Shane wrote this down. 'You can't influence people that much, Ebony. They're either going to kill themselves or they won't. It's their choice, not yours. Your ego seems to be causing a lot of your guilt.'

'Again with the ego shit. Where do you get off?'

'I'm just trying to help you.' He gave her another vomit-inducing smile.

'You know what, forget it. Forget this whole thing.' She got up and went for the door again.

'Ebony, remember what we discussed.'

'Screw what we discussed. You really suck at this.'

Ebony walked back to the house she'd been haunting the previous week to find it had a new door and windows. To her relief, the one next door was a lot newer. She tracked across the sand towards the nearest window and climbed through.

Inside she found a room near the back of the house and took out her cigarettes. The ceiling was in place now, so she had some shelter from the oncoming rain. She was supposed to go back to school after her appointment with Shane. She didn't think it was possible for something to be more pointless than it already was.

There were some boards of wood laid down against the wall. She rested her head on them and tried to get comfortable then lit up a cigarette, half wishing she could see the clouds despite being thankful for the ceiling.

The air was cold but clean. The conversation with Shane was only making her ill with resentment. Ego. Whatever. There was something way more sinister in her. Nicholas saw it, Jeremy did too. So did her mother... maybe even her father. Why should she blame them for leaving? For being so cowardly? Was she cursed? Could she change it? If she tried to believe in something, would that save her?

She'd never believed in Hell. All actions and their consequences were played out in this realm, as far as she was concerned. Would it make a difference if she died? Was there something out there that would take pity, and give her peace everlasting? Ebony doubted it severely. She had to live out this life then face oblivion, and at that moment, oblivion was the more attractive part.

All day, Ebony had been trying to shut out Eliza's words. If Josie did try to kill her, and she felt so awful for it, it made sense now that she would take her own life.

Ebony decided she shouldn't have to wait for a god or demon to punish her, she could bring about her own justice on herself. But this didn't make her feel any better. Her birth was still the root cause of it all. Perhaps in Josie's case, suicide had been an act of bravery, and Ebony now believed her reluctance to end her own life was the essence of pure cowardice.

Someone had left behind a boxcutter by the pile of wood. It was yellow and splattered with plaster. She picked it up. The blade was still sharp and devoid of rust when it slid from the handle effortlessly. Ebony contemplated its edge for some time.

The tears were coming intermittently. Sometimes she wasn't even aware of them. She turned her focus on her bare wrists. They should have been covered with scars by now, but she'd never had the strength to make the first cut. If she was so doomed, so cursed, so hated, why wasn't she already dead? Josie should have killed her when she was a baby... so why didn't she?

Ebony, please... I didn't mean...

The bracelet had been the first thing she'd touched that her mother owned. Ebony needed to get it back from Eliza. Though this need stopped her from touching the blade to her skin, it didn't cause her to put it down. Instead, she pocketed it for later.

Thunder sounded somewhere as the temperature dropped further. Rain began soaking the sand outside the house which almost became mud by the time she made it to the curb. She walked on, not caring she was getting soaked. Her crying turned into pathetic snivelling and a few cars tore down the wet street, only just missing the puddles by the curb.

A horn sounded behind her and she turned to face a pair of headlights on low beam. Peering through the rain, she saw Patrick behind the wheel. He motioned her to come to his window, lowering the glass as she ran up.

'Get in. I'll drive you home.'

'I don't want to go home,' she said pathetically. 'Why did you get kicked off my case?'

'Come with me and I'll explain everything.'

She trotted around the hood and slipped in the passenger side. Before he started off, Patrick passed her his jacket from the back seat and smiled at her.

'Do I make you feel like shit?' she blurted.

'What?'

'Never mind.'

Patrick took off down the road cautiously. 'I can still help you, Ebony. If you'll let me.'

'I think it's too late for that.'

'No, it's not,' he said with kindness. 'I got kicked off your case since my manager got wind you were still shoplifting. I wasn't making progress, so she's assigned you to someone else.'

'You must have known I was still doing it, Patrick.'

'Money, spite... a general discontent with the world. Whatever the reason, it doesn't really matter, Ebony. The department store isn't pressing charges. Your court order should have had you back in a police station, but Kathleen bought you a stay of execution. I just can't help you via those channels anymore.'

'So you're off the clock?'

'I am.'

Ebony didn't ask any more questions as Patrick kept talking to her in an easygoing tone. She sensed there was going to be more than a basic discussion when they got to wherever they were going.

Chapter 6

'You better wipe your feet really well,' Patrick said to Ebony when they arrived at his house. 'Melinda hates it when I track dirt through the house. She never says so, but you can tell anyway.'

Ebony followed him up the porch steps, knocking the mud off her boots on the way. Melinda opened the door just as they were rubbing their feet on the doormat. Patrick couldn't tell if she was angry or disappointed. He was going to be pussyfooting around her a lot now, he knew that.

Melinda pushed back the screen door and regarded Ebony with a weak smile. 'Hi, Ebony.'

'Hi,' Ebony muttered, still wiping her shoes.

'That should do it.' Patrick guided her inside, being careful not to keep his hand on her back too long.

'It's nice to meet you, Ebony.' Melinda didn't offer her hand or even a sincere tone.

'Guess you know all about me,' Ebony said flatly.

'I know enough,' Melinda admitted.

'Ah, I showed her the tape, by the way.' Patrick was terrified this would further anger Ebony.

'Whatever,' she replied.

Patrick allowed his breath out of his mouth. He'd worried continuously about that possibility since he picked her up. He hadn't specifically been looking for her. Coincidence led him to take a shortcut through the newer suburbs on his way home from the station. At work, Kathleen mentioned Ebony had dropped by, and she'd informed her of her change in caseworker. Patrick was forced to stay at work until four, wishing he could lie about having to leave so he could find Ebony. On the drive home, Ebony called Kathleen a bitch and Patrick couldn't stifle the resultant chuckle this caused.

'Do you want something to drink, Ebony? I have Coke, coffee, tea... juice?' Melinda always seemed so uncomfortable when guests came. She tried her best to be a homemaker, something Patrick never really expected of her. But Melinda lived by a strong sense of obligation, probably instilled in her by her mother. She said doing "normal people" things always made her feel agitated and annoyed.

'I'll take a Coke,' Ebony answered. 'Please.' Her politeness was begrudging at best. Melinda gave him another look and went to the kitchen. Patrick told Ebony to go wait for him in the living room.

In the kitchen, Melinda was acting pensive as she was pouring Ebony's drink. Patrick pushed her hair back so he could meet her eyes.

'She was wandering around in the rain,' he said softly. 'She didn't want to go home.'

'It's okay,' she mumbled.

'Is it?'

'I called Dora,' she said, skirting around the immediate issue in her usual deflective style. 'She's coming over soon to look at the tape, so it's good you found her.'

'Are you okay?'

'I just want you to figure this out,' Melinda said. 'Whatever it is. So you can get on with your life.'

'There's something else, Mel. What is it?'

She put the glass down and said, 'Dora thinks I'm an idiot for indulging you in this.'

He knew she was feeling cornered, so he held her as if it were some kind of apology for making her feel this way.

'Why do you care so much what she thinks?' he asked.

'Because she's right. I want to help you, yet I can't help thinking this is a mistake. What can we do for Ebony? What if this doesn't give you any answers? She's not my problem, but she's become that by being your problem.'

Myra started giggling loudly in the other room, distracting them both. They went to the living room to see Myra on the floor sitting with Ebony, who was hovering a My Little Pony over her head.

'She's flying to save the other ponies from the evil witch, Kathleen,' Myra said excitedly.

Ebony smiled another of her classic, mischievous smiles at them.

'C'mon, Myra,' Patrick said. 'We need to talk to Ebony. Dora will be coming soon.'

'I want to stay,' Myra pouted.

'No, you can't,' Melinda said sternly.

Ebony handed back the plastic pony to Myra. 'It's okay, Myra,' she said with a sympathy in her voice that was foreign to Patrick's ears. 'We'll play later.'

Melinda glowered a moment until she locked eyes with Ebony, then her face slackened. Patrick watched them both now. Myra went to him and hugged his leg, seeming to sense the air in the room had changed. Ebony's face held the same expression she'd had from the video. Patrick felt all of his nerves being plucked by her eyes and Melinda clearly felt it, too. She turned away and took Myra's hand.

'I'm sorry I snapped, honey, but you guys can play later.' Melinda averted her eyes from Ebony as she led Myra away.

'Shit,' Ebony whispered. 'I'm sorry.'

'It's alright,' Patrick blurted, instantly knowing it was the wrong thing to say about what he was witnessing. Nothing about the moment felt alright, yet he still needed to placate her. His palms were damp with sweat and his chest was uncomfortably tight. He sat down in the armchair opposite her.

'No, it's not,' she said softly. 'I shouldn't have done that.'

'Myra's just being a little kid, so don't worry about it.'

'I'm not talking about her.'

Patrick cottoned on and leaned forward. 'What do you mean?' he prompted, still wanting her to confirm his suspicions.

'You already know,' she snapped. 'I do it to you and I did it to Nicholas. Eliza hates it when I do it, but it's not for the same reasons. She just thinks I'm mocking her.'

'Ebony, I'm just trying to help you get to the bottom of this.'

The doorbell rang and his already fragile nerves caused Patrick to jump to his feet. Ebony turned her head to stare at the fireplace.

He left her to open the door to a thin woman with dyed red hair. A pair of oversized sunglasses almost covered half her face and she lowered them to reveal her blue-green eyes as her red lips made a paper-thin smile.

'Patrick, right?'

'Dora?'

Several bangles tinkled down her wrists as she threw up her hands and wiggled her impossibly slender fingers. 'That's me.'

She pulled the screen door open and flounced inside as Melinda skipped down the stairs and greeted her. Dora was far more emphatic, giving Melinda a tight squeeze. Patrick could see Ebony was still sitting on the floor, toying with the frayed hem of her jeans and trying not to be noticed. The three of them stood in the doorway to the living room and Dora's demeanour quickly shifted gears upon seeing Ebony.

'Is that her?' Dora muttered to Melinda.

Melinda nodded and led Dora into the living room. 'Ebony, this is Dora.'

Ebony lifted her head.

'Hi, Ebony,' Dora beamed as she approached the girl. Her bangles clashed as she shot her hand out for Ebony to take.

Ebony regarded the hand as if it were diseased. Patrick tried to put the brakes on the whole situation before Ebony spoke, but his timing was off.

'Who the hell are you?' Ebony snapped at Dora.

'I'm sorry, Ebony, I was going to talk to you about this,' Patrick said, feeling pained and trapped. 'Dora just came to see the tape, but I wasn't expecting-'

'What for?' Ebony stood. 'What is this about?'

Melinda began to fret. Dora just looked baffled.

'Um... Ebony, Dora's a psychic, and I thought maybe...' Melinda edged closer, acting like Ebony was a tigress ready to maul someone and she was going to have to wrestle her into submission. 'I thought if Dora saw the tape she might see something we couldn't.'

Ebony rolled her eyes. 'Like what?' She turned to Dora. 'Do you really want to see some grainy footage of a guy blowing his head off in front of a five-year-old girl?'

Dora suddenly took Ebony's hands and smiled. She led Ebony to the couch and sat her down, and Patrick guessed Dora stayed standing to shift the balance of power and aggression.

'Honey, I can see a lot of negativity around you right now.'

'So can they,' Ebony said. 'They have five senses to tell them that, they don't need to fake having one more.'

Dora let go as Ebony's eyes darkened and narrowed. At first, Dora appeared crestfallen. Patrick knew he should have intervened, but something in him was prepared to make Dora the guinea pig now. It wasn't fair to put Melinda in the role, and he would never have allowed it, but he didn't feel Dora was going to be much use to them now. He resented her inferring Melinda was an idiot as much as he resented the card readings that were making him out to be a cheat and a liar. Ebony could scoff at the idea of preternatural powers, but Dora honestly believed she was a true psychic.

Sadistically, Patrick wanted to see if Ebony could beat Dora at her own game.

Dora's bottom lip began to tremble and Melinda moved in close to Patrick.

'Patrick, what is this?'

He kept watching Dora's face. Tears were forming in her eyes, and he was getting a strange satisfaction from this. Dora took a step back from Ebony.

'What are you doing?' Dora whispered. 'Stop it.' Her whole body began trembling. Now the overly dramatic woman who had sauntered into his house had made a departure, leaving in her stead a frightened girl who seemed to be questioning everything she'd ever done and said. She quickly turned from Ebony at last and started to leave. Before she was gone she said something to Melinda that went unheard by Patrick. Melinda herself seemed terrified and folded her arms across her stomach, choosing not to go after Dora.

'What did she say?' Patrick asked. He was actually excited.

Ebony was looking at the fireplace again.

'Nothing,' Melinda muttered before she bowed her head and walked out. He knew he should have gone to comfort her, but he wanted to hear from Ebony what she'd seen in Dora's eyes.

'What happened, Ebony?'

Her malice was piercing him so deep now he thought he was next. 'What do you think?' Suddenly, she was before him, inches from his face and almost snarling as she asked, 'What the hell do you want from me, Patrick?'

'I... I'm sorry.' The excitement was quickly dissolving into fear.

Her eyes were still narrow and focused as she glowered. 'What am I to you? Really?'

Patrick swallowed hard. 'An answer,' he said at a near-whisper.

'Do you even know the question?'

His lack of a response to this incensed her. She shoved him out of the way.

'Ebony, please... I should've explained all this before Dora showed up. I'm sorry. Please don't leave yet.'

'Isn't there someone else you should apologise to first?' Ebony nodded in the direction of the staircase.

Patrick followed her glance, and she was already halfway down the front path by the time he turned back.

Back at home, Ebony didn't even bother to check if Eliza was around before she stormed upstairs. She went straight for the closet in the master bedroom and tore through the clothes and jackets to find the shoebox, snatching it as soon as she saw it. Going to her own room, she grabbed her backpack and started opening drawers.

Critical mass. Breaking point. Everything — and everyone — had a limit.

Ebony fit as much as she could into the backpack and shoved the shoebox on top. She guessed there wasn't much in her funds that would cover her beyond a bus ticket to the nearest town. Nicholas and Eliza managed their own money fairly well and gave her a pittance of an allowance. Neither of them stashed money away for later or kept a spare credit card in a drawer for emergencies.

She counted out the cash from her now empty savings account and sighed angrily. It wasn't going to be enough. At the same time, she didn't want to wait for Eliza to come home to ask for more money, or even steal her purse if she got desperate.

Then Ebony realised it wasn't about that. The money was just an excuse her fear had created to stop her making a run for it sooner. She had nothing to stay for and no obligations to anyone now. It was time to go. She shoved the money into the pockets of her army jacket, flung the bag over her shoulder and went out.

If she needed anything, she would lift it. Why change that habit?

Out in the street, Ebony finally felt some relief. She walked briskly, hoping to make it to the bus station in time but still prepared to spend a night hanging around the city if the last bus was already gone. At least she wasn't hungry yet — she was too enraged by Patrick's stunt. The anger was sustaining her for now.

Shane Michelson's office was on the way to the bus station, so she couldn't avoid passing it. Nor could she avoid noticing Eliza's car was parked out the front.

'What the...?'

A car honked at her as she ran out across the road. Getting closer, she saw a light on in the back of the office. The front door was unlocked.

Inside, she wandered through the reception area. There were noises coming from his office. Now Ebony felt nauseated as she crept towards the door.

She became distracted by something behind the reception desk. It was a petty cash tin, locked, of course, but there was enough room in her bag to cram it in on top. She hunted for a key, giving up when she didn't want to get caught rummaging around. She could figure out how to open the tin later.

Someone suddenly moaned loudly and there was a rhythmic banging that was starting to get more frantic. Ebony wasn't an idiot, she knew what was happening. She still wanted to see it for herself.

Storming in, Ebony saw Shane bent over Eliza's back. She was half dressed, her skirt hitched up and her hands flat on his desk. Her short blonde hair was ruffled and damp around her sweaty face. Shane was still dressed, his pants around his ankles, his brow also moist with sweat. Eliza almost screamed at the sight of Ebony.

'What are you doing here?' Eliza shrieked.

Shane was mortified. It was the first honest expression he'd ever given.

Ebony didn't know whether to laugh or throw up. She slammed the door and ran out of the office.

Everything made sense now. People were only in her life to screw her over or leave. She hoped the contents of the petty cash tin would be adequate compensation for the psychological damage her own shrink had now inflicted upon her.

At the bus station, Ebony hid around a corner and smacked the tin against the concrete floor, taking her rage out on it at the same time. The tiny padlock dented but wouldn't break. There were a couple of buses leaving then, and she wanted to be on one of them. The woman behind the ticket counter said she could get to the next town with the money she'd collected. She took the ticket then sprinted across the lot to the bus.

On board, Ebony pulled out the shoebox and tried to look over the photos in the meagre light. A few people around her were already asleep. She'd managed to get a window seat by herself. Once she'd found something on her iPod to soothe her chest, she went through the photos again, flipping them over. Each had faded scrawl on the back, including the image of the old woman. She tried angling the picture in the light to see the writing.

Freya 1993, Huntsville.

That was her birth year. She knew Huntsville wasn't that far away. The bus had already started up, so she quickly shoved the photos back in her bag and went to the driver.

'Does this bus go to Huntsville?'

'Nope,' the driver sniffed. 'You can get another bus from Waverley. That's where we're headed.'

Sliding back into her seat, she cranked her iPod and shut her eyes.

Maybe Freya would be able to explain a few things. Judging by how decrepit she appeared in the photograph, it was possible Freya wouldn't be around now, but Ebony had a direction at least. A starting off point.

Eliza, Patrick and Nicholas all ceased to be relevant to Ebony as the bus pulled out of the station.

Chapter 7

Patrick hardly knew Trisha. She was fairly chummy with Serena, and he found them having lunch on Tuesday, reluctantly deciding to make nice.

He and Melinda hadn't spoken about Ebony and the incident with Dora, but then they barely spoke at all now anyway. Melinda was out of people to turn to for emotional and spiritual support, and Patrick was out of ideas and patience.

His cases were the only thing distracting him now. He needed to go on with his life, patch up his marriage and try to find a passion for his work again. His lack of zeal was causing his current cases to play him for a fool, so he soon found he no longer cared. He couldn't help any of them because they didn't want to be helped. He was reassessing his career path when he sat down with Trisha and Serena.

'Patrick,' Serena said brightly. 'You've met Trisha, right?'

'Hey.' He wasn't about to offer Trisha much enthusiasm. It wasn't as though she had intentionally usurped Ebony's case file from him, still he couldn't deny the feeling of defeat this fact had on him.

'You used to deal with Ebony Kingston, right?' Trisha asked him.

He wanted to ask her if she habitually carried around salt for the wounds she inflicted on people, still Patrick knew he was being immature so he tried to lighten up.

'I didn't deal with her very effectively,' he replied.

Trisha shook her head and said over her sandwich, 'She didn't show for her appointment this morning.'

'She didn't?' He knew Ebony was prone to truancy and tardiness, but she regularly kept her court-appointed sessions with him. Trisha had already failed.

'Yeah, I called Eliza to check on Ebony,' Trisha went on, chewing as she spoke. 'She's been missing since last night.'

Serena shot him a look as Patrick swore under his breath.

'Has Eliza put out a report?' he asked, panicked.

'She said she filed one, but she didn't seem particularly concerned. She wasn't in hysterics or anything, she said she's been waiting for this a long time.'

Patrick stood up and hastily gathered his things before walking out of the room, not caring to excuse himself. Serena went after him and grabbed his arm.

'Where are you going?' she hissed. 'There's nothing you can do. Leave it to the cops to track her down.'

'I can't. I'm the reason she ran.'

'What do you mean? What did you do?' Serena was almost disgusted with him.

'I found her yesterday and took her home with me. Melinda arranged for this psychic friend of hers, Dora, to meet Ebony... to see if there was anything in the tape that Dora might be able to see. Things got a little ugly and Ebony stormed out.'

'Patrick, this is bad. If Kathleen...'

'That's not important right now. The fact is Ebony was upset when she left. I should have known she'd do this.'

'But she's not your concern anymore. If you get involved, you'll be fired. You've crossed the line, Patrick. You can't be seen to be this involved in her situation.'

'But I am involved, Serena. By my own stupidity, sure, but I'm still involved. She trusted me. I know that now.'

Serena's protestations went unheard from then on. He was marching to Kathleen's office. He needed his leave approved.

Kathleen was on a phone call, looking bothered. Her head was resting against her palm and she was more than displeased to see Patrick. She terminated the call, promising whoever was on the other end she would call back in five, then pointed to the chair opposite her desk. He stayed standing.

'Five minutes, Patrick,'

'I only need one. Are you going to approve the leave I asked for? Melinda's mother is ill. We need to drive out of town to see her.'

'Why didn't you tell me that's what it was for? Of course I'll approve it.' She scratched her signature on the form and handed it to him. 'You know Ebony is missing, don't you?' Kathleen mentioned before he could go.

'I know,' he said calmly. 'But she's not my problem now.'

'That's right, Patrick. She's not.'

Her pointed tone didn't go unnoticed. Patrick dropped off the form with HR, thinking if this were the big mistake that would end his career, then he'd have plenty of hours to consider his options on the road to finding Ebony. Serena was leaning against his car door out in the parking lot.

'I didn't have time to organise your going away party. You do know you're probably not coming back here, right?'

Patrick shrugged in a poor attempt to prove he didn't care. 'I'm prepared for that.'

'Kathleen isn't stupid, you know. Not like you.'

Patrick refused to be insulted and hugged Serena. 'I'll see you when I get back into town.'

Serena embraced him back. 'Melinda's a good woman, Patrick. Screw up your job, just don't screw up your marriage.'

He was listening in a way, yet his focus was more on what he needed to do next. He got into his car, gave Serena a small wave and headed out of the parking lot.

Eliza wasn't home when Patrick pulled into the driveway. Ebony had told him Nicholas was long gone, and now in her absence, it would be easy for anyone to assume the house was completely deserted. He had made a note of all of Ebony's parents' contact details in his notebook before her file was removed from his caseload. Patrick took a moment to calm himself then dialled Eliza's personal number once he'd found it.

'Eliza West, Wentworth Consultancy.' She was already adopting her maiden name. Patrick imagined Nicholas's side of the bed wasn't even cold. His heart stiffened at the thought of Melinda divorcing him and getting on with her life as though their marriage had meant nothing but a fling to her.

'This is Patrick Farber, Ebony's caseworker. I understand she's been reported missing.'

'And what business is that of yours, Patrick?' Eliza said coldly. 'My understanding was she was no longer one of your cases.'

His mouth went dry still he forced himself to tell the truth. 'I may be responsible for her leaving. I'd like to help you find her.'

Eliza laughed spitefully. 'You're not the reason she ran away, Patrick. Ebony has been running from one thing or another her entire life. This was long overdue.'

Patrick decided his manners were no longer required. 'You honestly don't give a shit what happens to her, do you.'

'I've cared enough to ensure she was safe and healthy. None of that meant anything to her.'

'What about kindness?' he asked, appalled by her shallowness. 'What about compassion?'

'Before you start judging me, Patrick, you might want to consider Nicholas left us both not three days ago. Why aren't you out questioning his compassion for her? Fatherhood was obviously too much of an effort for Nicholas.'

Patrick wiped his face with his free hand and sighed. 'Do you have any idea where she's gone?'

'She raided my closet and took a shoebox full of old photographs. She's probably off looking for her dead family, who nearly killed her by the way. Does that fit into your definition of compassion, Patrick? Holding a pillow over your baby daughter's face before slitting your wrists next to her crib?'

'What?'

'I kept these things from her because what child would have any respect for themselves knowing something like that?'

'I didn't know...' Patrick started pathetically.

'And yet you make your assumptions based on the myriad of horrible things Ebony has said about me.'

His mind was failing to keep up with all of this. 'Where would they be? If she's gone looking for them, where did her family live?'

'Some backwater town called Huntsville. It isn't that far. I don't know if I'll still be here by the time you bring her back. That's if you find her at all.'

'Where are you going?'

'I'm leaving town. I'm getting on with my life.'

'You're abandoning her,' Patrick corrected, disgusted again with Eliza's flippancy.

'Ebony won't want to come back to me if you find her. Ask her yourself. But don't waste too much of your time. She won't be found if she doesn't want to be.'

He ended up protesting to a dial tone before he snapped his phone shut and threw it on the passenger seat.

Patrick hadn't a single pleasant memory of Huntsville. He had lived there until the age of six, later visiting during the summer since Ursula had a friend, Georgia, who'd stayed after the local cannery closed. Ursula and Georgia would sit out on the porch and drink and cackle and cry. Glass would break when one of them toppled about to get more wine. Late into the night, they would start singing tunelessly to maudlin songs on the radio.

Patrick never got much sleep out there, and if they did shut up long enough for him to sleep, his dreams of his father, Harry, were twice as vivid and infinitely more disturbing. He would wake up crying, too afraid to go out to Ursula since he knew she would start yelling at him in a drunken fit.

The whole town of Huntsville seemed devoid of any sense of joy. Revisiting it to find Ebony would only mean having to step into his own nightmares again. For a moment, that was enough for him to just leave her be. But now Eliza was making sure she'd be long gone if Ebony decided to come back. He at least owed it to Ebony to make sure she had a home. He was certain she wouldn't find one where she was headed.

Patrick drove home. Melinda was out on the lawn, sifting through the mail. The last time she'd spoken to him was to remind him to take out the trash that night. As he pulled up, she watched him for a moment before walking inside. She still hated him. She still kept her distance to avoid really saying what was on her mind. He stayed in the car, going over his options before slinking inside.

Myra didn't fly into his shin. She hung about the door to the kitchen instead and watched him take off his jacket.

'What happened to Ebony?' Myra asked. The question had been on her lips since Ebony left, but Myra was slowly developing the ability to choose her moments rather than to wantonly blurt out whatever she was thinking.

'Ebony ran away, Myra. She doesn't want to see us anymore.' Patrick didn't see the point in lying or sugarcoating the facts.

'Why?' Myra asked.

'Because I made her mad,' he said solemnly. 'She's upset now.'

Myra's face told him enough. He went to hug her but she walked off into the living room and picked up one of her ponies.

Melinda almost startled him. 'If you want to go find her, I won't stop you.'

'She won't want me to.'

Touching his shoulder, Melinda said, 'She still wants someone to care about her, even if she says she doesn't.'

'I thought you hated her.'

'Then you don't think very much of me, do you.' Now she looked dismayed. Clearly, she'd been considering this carefully and was disappointed by his reaction.

He held her close. 'That's not true. I love you, Mel. So much.'

'Then I'll come with you. To help.'

He breathed into her neck, almost collapsing from his relief. 'I need you there, Mel. I can't go back there alone.'

'Where? You know where she might be?'

He pulled away and said acidly, 'Huntsville. I can't stand that place.'

'Where you used to live?'

'Yeah. It's horrible. It's like being permanently stuck at a wake.'

'But it's a small town. That'll make it easier to find her, right?'

'I hope so.'

They went upstairs and began packing. Melinda went to the bathroom to collect more bits and pieces. Patrick watched her from the bedroom, afraid of questioning her reasons for wanting to come along since he was too grateful she had even agreed to in the first place. It was because of love, but there was something else she wasn't admitting to.

Myra stuck her head through the bedroom door. 'Where are you going?'

'Go get some things together, sweetie,' Melinda told her. 'We're going to go find Ebony.'

His little girl finally smiled, though his other girl was still unhappy.

'Guess this is the closest thing we'll get to a holiday for a while,' she said at last when the cases were packed and closed.

'I'm sorry,' Patrick said.

Melinda ran her fingers through her hair. 'It's okay. I guess I feel I'm to blame for her running as well.'

'It wasn't you, it was her whole life. You said it yourself, she's an orphan and she's mad at the world.'

They loaded up the car, checked the house was completely locked, then bundled Myra in the back seat. She was still playing with her pony as they drove out of town.

The bus driver dropped Ebony off in Waverley. From there she had to hop another bus or hitch to her destination. Either option didn't bother her then. She found a small hardware store and began scanning the racks for padlock sets, taking a set to the counter and pulling out the petty cash tin.

'Will these keys work in this lock? I lost the other set.'

The middle-aged man behind the counter cocked his eyebrow. 'Doubt it. I can get it open with a bolt cutter, though. It's only a small thing.'

She waited for him to return with a smallish bolt cutter. His calloused hand forced the handles together until the tiny loop on the padlock snapped.

Inside the tin, there were wads of cash neatly lined up in a plastic tray. Under the tray were a couple of cheques made out to Shane's practice. She took out a ten dollar note and handed it to the man.

'None of that belongs to you, does it?' said the man, flatly.

'It does now,' Ebony replied with nonchalance as she slammed the tin shut. She strolled out and the little bell over the door tinkled again.

With her newfound wealth, she bought some food at the café across the street. From a booth by the window, Ebony looked out at the rain-soaked street. The town seemed old, almost weary. The paint was chipped away from the awnings and the wooden signs of the stores were faded and splintered.

The waitress lowered a plate in front of Ebony and offered her some coffee.

'Where does the bus that goes to Huntsville leave from?' Ebony asked.

'Round the block from here. Only runs three times a day. What are you looking for there, hon?'

'My family.'

'Sad little town, that one. When the factory closed, most people took off elsewhere looking for work. Those who stayed, well... I guess they couldn't afford the fuel to get far enough away.'

'When's the next bus leave?'

'In about twenty minutes. Next one after that won't be for another three hours. It's about the only reliable thing around here.' The waitress hadn't been looking at Ebony directly until the second she turned to go when her cheery demeanour suddenly vanished. 'Have a good day,' she mumbled with a strange look of trepidation.

Ebony wolfed down the food, thankful her stomach was now satisfied even if most of it had tasted bland. Pulling her hood over her head, she jogged around the corner to find the bus stop. It was just a splintered old seat covered in graffiti with a sign beside it that had Huntsville written below the bus company's logo.

There were still five minutes to wait. She was okay with sitting in the drizzle, taking out a smoke to light it up. A couple of people wandered past her, but for the most part, the streets were empty. Up the road, there were a few houses with chicken wire fences and rotting porches. She guessed Huntsville was probably just as dilapidated, if not worse.

When the bus arrived, Ebony asked how much it was to get to Huntsville. The driver gruffly replied it was four dollars and she paid this before sitting near the front.

The grey clouds made everything dark enough for one to assume it was early evening, despite it being the middle of the afternoon. Rubbish was spread intermittently along the roadsides as the trees gave way to the outskirts of town.

Soon they were entering Huntsville, and just as Ebony had suspected, it was a hole. Some of the houses looked abandoned, their huge front yards now unkempt, and several abandoned cars were parked randomly along both sides of the road. She saw kids on their rusty old bikes turning circles in the dirt. The bus pulled up beside another line of stores. She was the only passenger for Huntsville, and the bus coughed on up to the next town just seconds after she was off.

Realising she had no idea where to start, Ebony suddenly felt helpless. She took out the photographs and decided it would be easiest to just show them to people. But people weren't easy to get along with there, either. Most of them ignored her. Others seemed afraid. One kid nearly ran into her with his push-along scooter and started abusing her for being in his way. She flipped him off.

Walking away from the small row of stores, Ebony found a house that looked more worse for wear than any of the others. The brown wood of the walls was darkened by the rain, and the porch was painted a deep red. She thought one bad storm would easily level the place. There was a light on in the front room, and the rain was becoming steadier, so Ebony trotted up the steps and huddled under the awning before banging on the door.

A grim-looking woman answered. It was as though years of unhappiness and stress had carved deep lines into her face. She didn't look pleased to be bothered by someone.

'Who are you?' the woman asked.

Ebony pulled out the photograph of the old woman. 'I'm looking for this lady, Freya. I think she might be my grandmother.'

The woman's eyes became so narrow Ebony questioned if she could still even see. She pushed back her screen door and all but stalked upon Ebony.

'You,' she snarled. 'I didn't think... I prayed I would never see you again. What you and your grandmother did to this town...You're both sick.'

'What the hell are you talking about?'

'You curse. You witch!' she spat. 'Get off of my porch.'

'Wait, I'm just trying-'

'GO,' she screeched, looming towards Ebony. 'LEAVE NOW! Get thee behind me, whore.'

Ebony almost tumbled backwards off the porch steps. She shoved the photograph into her pocket and ran to get out of the woman's sight, certain she was going to have something hurled at her if she wasn't fast enough.

When she was sure she'd put a reasonable distance between herself and the insane woman, Ebony huddled under a tree to keep out of the cold. The dregs of sunlight were disappearing now and she had nowhere to sleep. She'd counted out the money in the café, and there was enough to get a motel room for the night, if there was even one around.

She was livid, wondering what the hell she could have done to the town. A curse? Screw her, Ebony seethed. She remembered now catching the thick scent of alcohol on the woman's breath. Obviously, she was a crazy drunk. The town was probably crawling with them, unemployed and bitter, always looking to blame someone else for their misfortunes.

Nothing was going to change. Ebony was certain she'd forever be angry and alone.

She passed another couple of houses about two blocks away. A few people were heading indoors from their cars. Their houses looked warm but not terribly inviting. She wondered if any of the other people would recognise her. Her grandmother obviously wasn't the town's favourite person, so showing her photograph around was going to get her nowhere.

Finally, it was too dark for her to continue walking, and Ebony started to panic. She saw a sign out the front of another house that read DECEASED ESTATE. She didn't have many options left, so she went up to the door and wiggled the handle, unsurprised it was locked.

She checked each window in turn and the back door with the same response each time. Locked. Sealed shut. The cellar doors were only held closed by a plank of wood, and she managed to lift the plank and pull them back. The steps were grimy and her boots nearly betrayed her by slipping as she moved down into the black cellar. She didn't want to pull the doors closed behind her and banish what little light remained. It would have felt as though she were closing a coffin lid on herself.

Too afraid to move, she sunk down onto the steps. Slowly, she slid down instead, keeping her backside close to the concrete as possible until she found the floor. The meagre flame from her lighter was enough to find the hanging light switch, and she began breathing again when the bulb came to life.

There were tins of food and boxes stored on old temporary shelves as if someone had been preparing for the end. Ebony peered at some of the labels to see if there was anything remotely appetising in them. They all were branded with the name: Wentworth.

She hoped she could hide out there for a few days at least. What was pathetic was she had no idea what she was going to do if she found the old woman. Sure, she might get answers, but what was she supposed to do with them?

It was too cold to sleep in the cellar. She went up the wooden steps to the door that led to the main house, tentatively pushing it back.

Through the dimness, Ebony could just make out the front door to the house. More doors lined the corridor. She didn't creep since it was pointless, but she still felt like a burglar, an unwanted presence. There was a pair of French doors to her left, just before the front door, and she pushed them back, managing to grope for a light switch.

Ahead of Ebony was a window, framed by a pair of lace curtains. Before the window sat an old armchair, the embroidered covering faded by sunlight. She took out the picture of the old woman and held it before her.

Same curtains, same chair. And the sign on the front lawn finally brought it all together. She was too late.

'Shit,' Ebony muttered to the empty room.

Chapter 8

Melinda chose to drive the last leg to Huntsville. Myra slept in the back with her head against the seatbelt, too exhausted notice the obvious discomfort of her position. Patrick's nerves were keeping him awake, along with a cup of disgusting roadside diner coffee. Melinda hummed softly along with the song on the radio. A car hadn't passed them on the dark road for almost an hour.

'I can see why you didn't like coming out here,' Melinda said when the song ended. 'It's creepy as hell.'

'The creeps aren't in the woods, they're in the houses. They run the town.'

Melinda smirked. 'You're serious.'

'Don't expect small-town hospitality here, Mel,' he replied darkly. 'It wasn't just my mother's alcoholic friend who frightened me. Everyone here became a little blacker in their hearts after the factory closed down.'

'Which factory?'

'Nearly every adult in town worked at the old Wentworth cannery.'

'Oh, I remember that company. They went bankrupt after some food poisoning scare, didn't they?'

'And the whole town sank with them,' Patrick continued. 'There wasn't enough in their redundancy handouts to survive, so most people took their families and went to the city to look for work. Anyone who stayed behind either went on the dole or...'

'Or what?'

'Gave up. Completely.'

'Well, suicide is an unfortunate byproduct of redundancy,' she said quietly.

'The whole town died.' He took another sip of coffee and winced as the bitter crud went down his throat. 'My parents worked at the cannery. They were laid off like everyone else, so was Ursula's friend, Georgia, and her husband... I can't remember his name. Georgia was half the reason Ursula started drinking. We left town before I was seven but she and I didn't come back for at least another six years after my dad shot himself.'

'But if you got out of town, didn't your dad find another job? Why did he...?' Melinda trailed off, somewhat respectfully.

'I don't know,' Patrick answered. 'Maybe his pride never recovered, maybe he couldn't get another job. Maybe the grass wasn't as green on the other side as they had hoped.'

'I understand why Ursula didn't speak about it. I don't think I could have.' Melinda sighed. 'I know it sounds awful, but I'm glad I've never met her.'

'Don't worry, so am I.'

Ursula couldn't even register she had a granddaughter now. That alone made Patrick sick with anger some days.

There was a red neon vacancy sign off to the right when they rounded the corner and hit the outskirts of Huntsville. Patrick instructed Melinda to turn off into the parking lot.

He carried their little sleeping beauty to the front desk, where Melinda was given a key to one of the rooms by a curt middle-aged woman who looked like she'd never slept in her life. He noticed there were only a few keys missing from the rack behind the counter. Melinda had handed over her credit card to the woman, and she'd carelessly jotted down the details on a scrap piece of paper.

'Room's down the back corner of the parking lot,' the clerk instructed. 'Don't bother calling the front desk after ten, we don't have anyone on reception.'

Patrick was immune to her churlishness, but Melinda was completely disgusted.

'I won't be picking this place for vacation spot again,' she said as they walked back to the car.

'Everyone who stays here is passing through, obviously. Long-haul drivers, philanderers, drifters. People around here don't need to be polite to you. They don't want you to come back.'

They parked outside their room and hastily got Myra and their things inside. There was a foldout bed propped against the dirty wall and a yellowish glow came from the bathroom. Melinda's nose was scrunched up and her mouth was small.

'I'm sorry,' he mumbled. 'I don't know of any other motel in the area.'

'It's okay.' She was clearly trying to lighten the mood when she said, 'Too bad we brought the kid. It would do for a night of dirty motel sex.'

Melinda's sense of humour was exactly what Patrick needed at that moment.

Their new location was saturated by despair and unending rain. He'd forgotten the town was consistently subjected to drizzle. The local dam had flooded on a few occasions as well. Rising damp was a common issue in most houses, and the motel was also an obvious victim of the same affliction. The wallpaper had bubbled and the doors frames were split in a few places.

Once the foldout was set up for Myra, Melinda laid her down carefully and tucked her in. Patrick slipped her little toy pony into her hands and kissed her cheek.

'Where should we start looking tomorrow?' Melinda asked as she changed out of her clothes.

'There's not many places kids hang out around here. And I have no idea who her family was. I don't know anyone other than Georgia.'

'The drunk? Well, why don't we start with her?'

'I don't want to go anywhere near her.' The idea turned Patrick's blood cold.

'But if she didn't leave the town then she would know most people here. She might know Ebony's family,' Melinda argued.

Patrick pulled off his boots. 'She didn't go on about many people in town. I only remember she complained a lot about some old woman. Said she was the reason the cannery shut down. She was cursed or something. I don't remember much else.'

Melinda sat up on the bed, rubbing her moisturiser into her hands. 'I know the idea of seeing her is horrible, but she's the only person you know around here. If she's no help, we'll go into town and start asking around.'

'You're right,' he conceded miserably. 'Maybe she can answer a few questions. If the booze hasn't erased half her memory by now.'

Ebony was starving again when she woke up in the small back bedroom. Standing by the foot of the bed was an old cupboard she'd wanted to go through the night before, but the disappointment of not finding her grandmother left her too tired to stay awake and go rummaging.

Now she was up and there was enough light in the room, Ebony went straight for the doors of the cupboard. They opened on more disappointment — empty, aside from a couple of wire coat hangers. She closed the cupboard and turned on the small white drawers. The top drawer stuck a little and she yanked it open, aggressively. Again, empty, as were the others.

She went out into the corridor. There was a panel in the ceiling with a cord hanging from it. The cord looked frayed, and its current length kept the end out of her reach. She would need to find something stable to stand on to reach it.

Her search for the kitchen led her to another bedroom. Opening the door released a chill so intense it felt like it had been trapped in there, accumulating for years. The old wrought-iron bed was neatly made. There were lace doilies on the wooden table beneath the window, and a porcelain washbasin atop the doilies. The mirror on the dresser had mottled and cracked a little.

The chill didn't deter her from entering. The instant Ebony sat on the bed, she saw the old woman beside her, lying under the faded blanket and propped up by the pillows. Her wrinkled mouth was grinning maniacally and she started laughing a cold, hollow laugh.

Weirdly unafraid, Ebony glanced over at the mirror. In the reflection, the bed looked vacant and untouched, she could only see herself sitting there. She turned back and the woman was still there.

'Are you Freya?' Ebony said without any trepidation.

The hallucination didn't respond. It only continued laughing.

'Shut up,' Ebony said cruelly. 'If you're here, then where's my mother?' She felt no sense of foolishness or fear communicating with a ghost. She simply would have preferred Josie be the one to haunt her.

The cackling got louder. The old woman's hair was long and tattered and the skin on her arms sagged like overstretched stockings. If Ebony had believed in witches, she would've thought the old bag was one.

Ebony stood up. 'Where is she?'

'In Hell, with me,' the old bitch croaked. 'One day, you'll join us. There is no other place for you. For our kind.'

'And what kind is that? What are we?'

'Abominations. Nothing more.'

'My mother was, too?'

'No. She was just another one our playthings. You weren't even two weeks old, but you were strong already. She couldn't get rid of you. But she tried.' Freya laughed again, softer this time. 'Oh, she tried. You stopped her, made her put the blade to her dainty wrists. Taught her a lesson. No one can harm you, Ebony. And you will bring more of us into this world. I hoped for a granddaughter, and I got my wish. I stopped breathing when they told me you were a girl. Don't disappoint me, child.'

'There shouldn't be anyone else like us.'

'Yes, there should. They can never see their true selves without us. Your mother was no saint, and you made sure she knew that. Her will to suffocate her own baby proves she wasn't the angel she touted herself to be. And she would have pulled the plug me on as well. If it weren't for us, she would've gone on thinking she was right... and good.'

'Maybe she was. She should have killed me.'

Freya was enraged by Ebony's words, her obvious frailty placing no limitations on her anger.

'Weak!' she screeched, sitting up quickly. 'Without your gifts, they would have killed you... your mother and that boy with the gun. You need to be here. They're dead for a good reason, Ebony. You can purge the earth of all those who hide behind their masks of kindness.'

'You're wrong. And you're dead. So fuck off.'

Freya's mouth grinned once more before she vanished. The covers slowly settled back to their original position, but the chill didn't dissipate. Ebony kicked the side of the bed and it scraped loudly across the bare wooden floor.

She walked out of the room, realising it was stupid to think the place wouldn't be haunted. No one wanted to come and take the furniture away or buy the house. It was tainted. Every drop of paint and scrap of wallpaper felt tinged by Freya's influence.

There was one more room she hadn't checked. The door creaked open to reveal an old white crib in the middle of the room. On the floor beside the crib was a scattering of small, round stains, brown in colour. She imagined someone had tipped a bottle of nail polish and the contents had slowly dripped onto the carpet. The chill in this room was just as intense. Ebony heard the faint whimpering again.

Please... please stop...

She took a step closer to the crib and knelt down to examine the stains. Reaching out, she ran her fingertips along the pale carpet, over each tiny mark. Her breathing ceased once more, and a terrifying paralysis gripped her again.

Ebony! No... I can't take it anymore. Don't do this.

She slowly lifted her head to see a baby in the crib. Unable to show any expression, the child simply stared. Something was stinging on Ebony's wrist. Glancing down, she saw a fresh, bleeding scar. In her other hand was a cutthroat razor blade. She was wearing a floral cotton dress now, and the blood was trickling down onto the cloth of the skirt, almost blending in with the pattern. More droplets were falling to the floor.

When she turned back to the baby, Ebony noticed with no surprise it was unperturbed by the sight of the blood. Her face was now sodden with tears. She threw the razor down and stood quickly, the blood in her body running straight to her head and making her momentarily dizzy. She grabbed the side of the crib and saw the baby was now gone.

Ebony stopped the first of her sobs from breaking loose by smacking her cupped hand over her mouth. The blade, the baby... the blood... All another vision to taunt her.

She stumbled as she ran into the other room where she'd left her bag. As she grabbed it, Freya's laughter sounded from the main bedroom. Ebony bolted through the front door and ran out into the street.

Chapter 9

Patrick could remember the way back to Georgia's house. He remembered the houses that no one could afford to repaint, the lawns that no one could be bothered to mow. So little, if nothing, had changed since his last visit.

Myra was grumpy and hungry, so they got breakfast at an old roadside café he was certain must have been violating several health codes. He was grateful their coffee was tolerable.

When they pulled up into Georgia's driveway, Patrick's caffeine-fuelled nervous system was close to shorting out. The first step up onto the porch creaked as expected though, his mouth still went dry at the sound of it. He had told Melinda and Myra to wait in the car. If Georgia's response to his visit wasn't too overwhelming, he'd introduce them. Otherwise, if things got too much, he would need a getaway driver.

He knocked on the screen door, waited, then knocked again. Patrick turned back to Melinda, seeing her peering through the windscreen. Myra sat in the back, looking about herself. She hadn't been in another town before; he would have hoped to take her somewhere other than Huntsville for her first holiday.

The front door opened. As a kid, whenever he'd seen Georgia through the screen door, he'd always imagined she was wearing a veil like she was in mourning for her life. When she pushed back the screen, she still appeared eternally miserable.

'What do you want?' she muttered. 'I've had enough visitors this week. Who are you?'

'I don't know if you remember me. I'm Ursula's son, Patrick.'

'Is she dead?'

'No, she isn't. She's moved up north.'

Georgia soured. 'Then why are you here?'

'I'm looking for someone.'

'Come inside. It's too cold.'

Georgia hurried him in and shut the door. There was a glass of whisky by her old sitting chair. He tried not to roll his eyes as he checked his watch. It was only just after ten a.m.

'How is your mother?' Georgia said caustically. 'I haven't heard from her in a long time.'

'Well, the lithium makes it hard for her to write, or call.'

'Then I guess neither of us made it out of this hell,' Georgia murmured, seeming to lose herself in a memory Patrick didn't want to know about. She settled into her sitting chair and gestured at the couch opposite her. Patrick obeyed though he'd preferred to have kept standing.

'Your father...' Georgia said with a tinge of remorse. 'He was a good man. Such a shame.'

'I wouldn't know. I hardly knew him.'

'It's always tragic, a boy without a father. A mother...' Her head fell lazily to one side. The grey hairs around her temples caught the small pieces of sunlight that managed to break through the closed curtains.

'Look, I'm not here to talk about family, Georgia. I'm sorry, I need to find this girl, she's come here looking for her birth family. Have you seen anyone from out of town recently?'

Georgia suddenly came to life like an angry monster woken from a deep sleep, now hungry for human flesh.

'You know her?' She pushed herself out of her chair. 'To know her is to be in league with her.'

'What?' He shook his head and rose from the couch. 'Her name is Ebony. I'm trying to find her.'

'I told her to leave and never come back. But the Devil never listens to mortals, so I'm guessing she hasn't gone far. As long as her shadow doesn't darken my door...'

'Georgia, please, do you have any idea where she may have gone?'

'Probably back to her birth house. She has no family here now. But they left their stain on this town. Her spineless father ran... and Josie... her poor, poor mother. Many angels suffer when they walk the earth alone. I told her to go... she wouldn't listen.'

Patrick was tempted to slap Georgia. He didn't have time for her babbling. 'And where is this house?' he pressed on.

'On the edge of town. I tried to burn it to the ground after they found Josie... to end the curse. To free us. But they wouldn't let me. They didn't want to anger the old hag and risk bringing more plight.'

He rubbed his eyes with the heels of his palms, giving up. 'Okay. Thanks, Georgia.'

Patrick turned from her towards the door then stopped. He was only being heartless to cope with the situation and get what he needed. Yet there was a woman in pain behind him, a woman much like his addled mother. He turned back.

'Get help, Georgia. Don't be one of them, slowly killing yourself. Get help and get out of here.'

'I can't.' Lucidity seemed to wash over her all of a sudden. Her eyes were no longer vacant. 'I have nothing. I'm just waiting out my time, Patrick. I thought when Old Freya died things would get better. She poisoned this town with her presence, she poisoned that food with her powers. Her curses. We did nothing to her and she destroyed everything. Spiteful, contemptuous...'

'So you all lost your jobs!' he cried. All the years of Ursula's self-pity that had kept her from showing him an ounce of compassion; all the resentment distilled and contained, shot out of him at once. He knew now he wasn't yelling at Georgia, he was yelling at Ursula. 'You could have turned things around. You could have saved your marriage. Tried harder instead of just hoping things would get better. Blamed yourselves instead of some poor old woman who just showed up at the wrong time. Instead of some ridiculous coincidence.'

'Old Freya used to scare the life out of you, boy. You never had nightmares at home. Only when you came here.'

'I've been having those nightmares all my life. I saw my father shoot himself in the head. It was you and Ursula who kept me up all night with your drinking and carrying on. It had nothing to do with that old woman.'

Georgia raised her finger and opened her mouth, freezing suddenly and looking past him at her door. 'She's here,' she whispered.

'Patrick!' Melinda was calling from outside. 'Patrick! She's here. C'mon, I found her.'

Ignoring Georgia's consternation, Patrick burst out and saw Ebony standing by the car with Melinda and Myra.

'She was running past the house when I caught her.' It was the first time Melinda had shown any joy at seeing Ebony. 'Let's go.'

He was shoved from behind by Georgia.

'Take her at your own risk,' she shouted at Melinda.

Patrick stepped back from her along the porch and saw Ebony's cheeks glistening with tears. She'd come for answers and had gotten nothing but pain. If she had found Freya's house, there probably wasn't anything there to give her hope.

'Wait,' he said. 'We're not done here.'

Melinda's own features clouded and Myra was holding her by the arm. Georgia must have been scaring her. He could see himself as a child next to Melinda, too terrified to go into the house. Too much of his past was colliding with his present.

Ebony came forward.

'I saw her,' she said to Georgia. 'She's still there.'

Georgia edged towards Patrick and grabbed his shoulder. He felt her trembling reverberate through him.

Ebony got closer. 'You can't do anything about it. She waited for me. She waited for a granddaughter until her dying breath.'

'Then it will never end,' Georgia murmured. 'Patrick, keep her away from me.'

Moving slowly up the stairs, Ebony stalked on Georgia. 'If I have nothing left,' she said calmly, 'then there's nothing left to lose, is there?'

'Ebony, don't.' Patrick put himself between her and Georgia. 'We'll go somewhere else for the answers.'

'Where?' Ebony laughed. 'Where else am I supposed to go? This woman thinks I'm a devil child.'

'That's because you are,' Georgia said, defiantly. 'And this town-'

'Screw this town. I don't care what you think I did, or what my grandmother did.'

'Patrick, please.' Melinda was holding Myra close to her with her hand on the driver's side door. The alarm in her voice was hard to acknowledge while he was trying to keep an eye on Ebony.

'If you don't care, then leave,' Georgia barked. 'Haunt somewhere else. And I'll burn that house down and cast out your conjurations.'

Ebony wiggled her fingers menacingly in Georgia's face and Georgia nearly screamed. She skidded back across the porch and tripped, falling against a couple of dead pot plants.

Patrick grabbed Ebony around her middle. 'Stop it, Ebony. She's just a crazy woman who can't face the truth.'

'No, Patrick. She's right. My grandmother and I are one and the same. We're from Hell.' Her eyes narrowed. 'But I'm still here... to finish what she started.'

'Ebony!' Patrick shouted.

'Connor should've done what your mother was too scared to do,' Georgia growled. 'He had his chance and he failed. He took pity.'

'Who the hell is Connor?' Ebony demanded.

'Your witless uncle. If he could face you he might give you what you want. But I doubt he'll be willing to even see you. He abandoned you for a reason, Ebony.'

Ebony shoved Patrick away then yanked a photo out of her bag and put it in Georgia's face.

'That's him,' Georgia murmured.

'Connor who?' Patrick asked, wondering if he was ever going to get more rope now he was at the end of his. Myra was fussing and Ebony's belligerence was beyond maddening.

'Riley. Connor Riley. Don't ask me where he is. All I know is he works in the city.'

Ebony shoved past Patrick and marched back to the car. Myra edged away from her a little, but Ebony didn't even notice. Melinda went to move towards Ebony, shrinking away instead to help Myra do up her seatbelt.

Patrick knelt down and helped Georgia to her feet. Once she was stable enough, she moved away.

'You flirt with disaster, Patrick. You have brought danger into your life. I would take your wife and child and get as far from Ebony as possible.'

'She's just a kid...'

'There's your first mistake. Everyone knows the Devil can take on many forms and will deceive you to meet his own ends. Foolish...'

Georgia shuffled past him, casting another glance out on Ebony to make sure she wasn't planning a second attack. The door slammed behind her. Patrick gave himself a second to breathe.

Melinda was still outside of the car when he finally approached. 'Can we please go home now, Patrick?'

Ebony had wandered off near the street. He couldn't tell if she was in earshot anymore.

'We have to find Connor.' He sounded exhausted as he felt.

'We found Ebony,' Melinda hissed. 'That's what we came to do. Mission accomplished. What else is there?'

'She's come here for the truth and she's been given a pile of bullshit instead. If this Connor has the real answers, then we need to go to him. She can't go on believing she's some... demon spawn.'

'I know she can't. But, Patrick-'

'I'm sorry, Mel. What if I take you home first, then Ebony and I will go and find Connor.'

Melinda almost winced. 'No, I'm not going home.' She folded her arms and turned to the muddy, scuffed up lawn.

'Then you'll come with us?'

She drew in her breath and released it shakily. 'I will.'

Patrick tried to take her in his arms but she stiffened and moved away. She wasn't looking at him as she slid into the driver's seat.

His stomach was already tight from the morning's unexpected altercations. Now his chest was aching, too. Patrick scratched the back of his neck, that was dripping with sweat despite the chill, as he slinked over to Ebony and lightly touched her shoulder.

'C'mon, let's go find Connor.'

'Why?' she scoffed. 'What's the point? He abandoned me. They all abandon me, along with their hope.'

'I won't. Why do you think I'm here?'

'It doesn't matter, Patrick. It's over. I may as well go back home to Eliza.'

Patrick covered his face. He hadn't even considered discussing Eliza's intent to leave and give up on Ebony. All he'd wanted to do was find her.

'Eliza's leaving. There won't be anyone around if you go home. She's not expecting you back.'

Ebony suddenly burst out laughing. Steam rose from her upturned mouth.

'Of course she isn't. She's probably running off with that asshole, Shane Michelson. I found him screwing her in his office the night I took off.' She shook her head. 'Guess I can tick her off the list as well.'

'Get off of my lawn. GO!' Georgia had opened the door again and was screaming at them.

Ebony flipped her off before she pushed past Patrick and climbed in the car.

He got in at last and slammed the door shut. Myra was sitting pensively in the back seat beside Ebony. Melinda started up the engine and practically skidded out onto the wet road before tearing away from the house.

'That lady was horrible,' Myra suddenly cried. Patrick was amazed she wasn't sobbing. Georgia had reduced him to tears on many occasions when he little.

'I know,' said Ebony, taking Myra's hand. 'She's another nasty witch. But don't worry. You'll never see her again. And if you do, I'll protect you from her.'

Myra held up her pony and smiled. 'You, me and Firefly will stop her,' she giggled.

'That's right. We'll get all the mean nasty witches and burn 'em all.'

'And boil them,' Myra giggled.

'And drown them in the lake,' Ebony chirped.

'So what now, Ebony?' Melinda asked, cutting in sharply.

Patrick turned around. Ebony was smiling a little at Myra while Melinda's profile was still stony.

'Drop me off in the city,' Ebony said. 'I've got nowhere else to go, as it turns out. Guess I'll go see if this Connor guy has had a change of heart.' Her bitterness was more evident than ever.

'We can't leave you alone,' Patrick said. 'We'll help you find him.'

'If you have nothing better to do,' she smirked, turning to the window. He caught her wiping her eyes with a scowl while the tears kept trickling out.

Melinda didn't say another word for the rest of the journey to the city.

***
'Well, the guy must have a phone, right?' Patrick said. 'So we look him up.'

'And where will we stay? Am I meant to max out my credit card on shitty motels until this is over?'

'I can use mine. And I have a chequebook.'

'Patrick, we can't afford to spend so much time here.'

'Hopefully we won't. If we can find him and talk to him, we can sort this all out.'

'And what if he won't talk to us?'

Ebony was pretending to sleep through the debate going on in the front. Myra, on the other hand, was actually sleeping. The drive to the city had taken about two hours. Added to that was a half hour stop for coffee. She'd mentioned the hundreds of tins of food in the basement to Patrick, and he told her about his father working at the cannery. Beyond that, she wasn't willing to tell him about Freya and her visions of a past she was beginning to wish she'd left alone.

Melinda and Patrick were failing miserably at keeping their voices down since Myra suddenly jerked awake and started whining.

'We need to find somewhere to stay,' Melinda declared at last. 'And a phonebook. I'm hoping there's not too many C. Rileys in the city.'

Ebony sat up. 'You can bail out anytime, Melinda. I said you didn't have to come.'

Patrick took the next turn-off and they cruised into the main street of the city. The shadows cast by the buildings made the day seem later than it was, and Ebony was starting to feel like she was living in a perpetual twilight.

'It's alright, Ebony,' Melinda said, sounding stretched. 'I wouldn't be here if I didn't want to be. It's just-'

'How long is this going to take?' Ebony asked for her. 'I don't know, but you're not obliged to stick with me. I dragged you into this.'

'No, you didn't,' Patrick corrected. 'We came after you. Because you need someone to help you.' He pulled up alongside some parking meters and turned off the car. 'We'll look for a place to stay first. It's probably too late to start looking for Connor now. If we can at least make some calls, then we can say we've made progress.' Patrick opened the car door. 'I'm going to check out that store, see if there isn't a motel nearby.' He touched Melinda's thigh. 'Do you want to come with me?'

'I'll stay.'

'I'll go.' Ebony instantly undid her seatbelt and got out. Melinda's company wasn't appealing at that point, and Ebony assumed Melinda would be glad not to have to make small talk while they waited. Even still, she didn't look particularly happy when Ebony was following Patrick inside the store.

Envy was the basis of her dealings with Melinda. And while Ebony had no desire to screw Patrick, Melinda clearly didn't care. That Ebony was taking up so much of Patrick's time was only part of Melinda's concern.

'Why did she agree on coming?' she asked Patrick once they were inside the store.

The fluorescent lighting made everyone's features look pale. A jittery girl with dark circles around her eyes stared at Ebony until their gazes linked, at which point the girl suddenly found the box of cookies in her hand far more interesting. Ebony continued to watch her as she stuffed the box into her baggy jacket and moved furtively out of the store.

Meanwhile, Patrick was already talking to the ageing and guarded cashier, who seemed not to have noticed the thief. 'So it's on the corner of West St. and Cason Boulevard?'

The cashier nodded. 'Yeah, about five minutes from here.'

'Great, thanks.'

Ebony went to smile at the cashier, feeling somewhat sympathetic at his loss of earnings. He only became edgier at the sight of her and turned his back to continue stacking the cigarettes. If the other girl was a petty thief, he must have assumed Ebony was carrying a concealed weapon and wasn't prepared to play the odds. She rolled her eyes, thinking that now would be an opportune time to grab a couple of chocolate bars from the rack in front of the counter.

Patrick caught her staring off the merchandise and urged her to follow him.

'There's a motel close by,' he said casually. 'I haven't been here for a while, but I think I remember where West St. is.'

'Patrick, why did she come?' Ebony insisted, frustrated at being ignored by him earlier.

Now Patrick was the edgy one. 'She offered to help me. But now I think she doesn't want me alone with you.'

'Why not?' Ebony knew the reason, but she was feeling spiteful enough to try and make him uncomfortable.

'Dora's been filling her head with bullshit for a while now.'

'She doesn't need someone to do that, Patrick. She either trusts you or she doesn't.'

Patrick continued his defence. 'I think she's just strained from all of this.'

'Then take her and Myra home. I'm here now. And I have money, too.'

'From where?'

'I stole it from Shane Michelson's office. I figured he owed me.'

'Jesus, Ebony!'

She ignored him this time. 'So I'm going to be okay. I'll find Connor myself.'

'And if he doesn't want to be found?'

She shrugged, still pretending the potential rejection wasn't going to bother her.

'No, Ebony. If I go, you're on your own, and you'll run out of money eventually. Then you'll have nowhere to sleep and no way to get back.'

'Back to what, exactly?'

'I'm staying,' he declared. 'We're all staying.'

'Fine,' she said smugly. 'You can stay, but only if you let me spring for the motel.'

He could only blink.

'And since I'm paying, I get my own room.'

Ebony needed to have control over the situation. If Patrick insisted on being present, then she would need to do anything she could to stop Melinda from complaining about it. It wasn't her fault Patrick didn't have the balls to stand up to his wife.

Myra was still fussing when they got back into the car. Ebony wished she'd snatched the chocolate to cheer her up. Melinda could pout all she wanted, but it wasn't fair Myra was being roped in as well.

To help settle her, Ebony taught Myra how to play rock, paper, scissors. Myra kept losing, giggling incessantly whenever Ebony tried to chop up her flattened hand with her fingers. The tetchy couple in front were silent in the meantime.

Patrick's sketchy memory of the city surprisingly didn't fail him and they found the city motel easily enough. The overweight, unshaven desk clerk was behind a glass panel, watching a gameshow. The spattering of prompted applause reminded Ebony of rain.

She headed their less than merry band to the counter and slapped a couple of notes down in the slot. 'Two rooms,' she demanded cheerily. 'Preferably clean.'

'You got ID?' he croaked.

'Ah, she's with us,' Patrick said.

The clerk's attention went to Patrick 'You got ID?'

'What for?' Ebony asked.

'Policy. I need to know in case the cops show up. Make sure I'm not harbouring any criminals.'

'Maybe you are,' Ebony smiled.

'This isn't the safest of neighbourhoods, kid. If I do right by the law, it does right by me. So one of you is going to have to prove who you are.'

Patrick took out his driver's licence and filled in his details. Once Ebony's dirty money changed hands, they were given two keys.

Myra was overjoyed when they got to the first room and started jumping on the bed. Melinda didn't bother stopping her. Patrick went straight to the nearest phonebook and looked up the name Riley.

'Damn it, there's ten Rileys here with a first initial of C.'

'Well, I'll have a phone in my room,' Ebony said. 'You take the first five, I'll take the second.'

Really, she was more anxious to be on her own. She knew she was being characteristically ungrateful towards Patrick, but in truth, she was hopelessly relieved he had found her. Hearing someone else's voice kept the echo of Freya's laughter out of her head, yet she still felt guilty other people were caught up in her mess.

'Okay, well I guess we can get started,' Patrick said.

'I'm going to find some food,' Melinda announced, lifting Myra off the bed. 'Myra's hungry.'

'Be careful,' Patrick warned. 'Do you have your phone?'

'Of course. We'll be fine.'

'I want a cheeseburger!' Myra cried.

Melinda kissed Patrick on the cheek, picked up her purse and disappeared.

'She's not okay with any of this, Patrick,' Ebony said once they were alone.

'I know. She's stubborn sometimes but her heart's in the right place.' He picked up the phone, saying, 'Quicker we get started...'

She ignored the rest of his tired cliché and went down the hall to her room. Once she was inside, Ebony threw herself face first onto the bed and groaned into the pillow. She didn't feel like calling a bunch of strangers just to find one particular stranger, but for Patrick's sake, she would do it.

Though it was really for her sake. She needed more answers than what Freya had given her. Taking the words of a hallucination and a drunk wasn't a good idea. Neither were reliable sources.

Ebony wondered if Freya really was haunting the house. She didn't even believe in ghosts, but Freya's presence had been so strong, so corporeal, that Ebony couldn't deny the despicable crone had powers. If they were one and the same, could Ebony make herself appear anywhere she wanted? What was the extent of her abilities besides simply messing with people's minds?

She didn't think Connor would know much more. If he did abandon her, then he was obviously scared of her, even as a baby. Now she was asking if she had really made her mother kill herself, or was Freya just screwing with her.

Ebony sat up and grabbed her head, fighting back her thoughts and her tears. She wanted to sleep first, but instead, she made herself pick up the phonebook and call the first C. Riley. When she dialled, she got someone named Chris, so she hung up and tried again. Each time, the name didn't match. There was another Chris, then a Charles, then an old, deaf man named Cyril who couldn't hear a word she was saying. She came to the last name on her list and only got an answering machine.

'This is Connor Riley. I'm not in right now, so leave a message. Otherwise, you can call me at Riley, Chase and Tomlin Solicitors on 987 9221.'

The tone sounded and her heart stopped. She let out a small whimper, but no more words would come, so she quickly slammed the phone down and realised she hadn't noted the other phone number. There was a notepad by the phone, though the pen beside it hardly worked. She dialled Connor's house again, getting the second number down just as someone picked up the phone.

'Hello? This is Connor.'

Ebony breathed as softly as she could.

'Hello?'

Again she slammed down the phone, losing her breath and curling up into a ball on the bed, now too shaken to go to Patrick. He instead came to her, knocking on her door. She couldn't move to answer it, so his knocking became more insistent.

'Ebony! Are you okay?'

She finally pushed herself up and let him in.

'No luck. How did you do?'

'Riley, Chase and Tomlin.'

'What?'

'I found him. I think he's a lawyer.'

Patrick's excitement matched her trepidation. 'Well, did you speak to him?'

She shook her head and turned away.

'What's the matter?'

A sob leapt out of her throat, followed by another. Her tears refused to be contained anymore. She had seen too much and yet still knew nothing, all the while rendered terrified of the whole truth.

Patrick didn't hesitate. He wrapped her up in his arms and she allowed herself to be held. His touch felt so alien to her, having never known anyone to embrace her or want to really comfort her. He was stroking her back and whispering to her, telling her everything would be alright.

Through her sticky, wet hair she saw Melinda staring back at her with a scowl. She pushed Patrick away and he was confused by her action until he turned to see his wife standing there with a bag of food in one hand and Myra's hand in the other.

'Patrick,' she said, clearly biting her tongue so as not to cause a scene in the corridor. 'Are you coming to eat?'

'Sure. You hungry, Ebony?' He seemed stuck between her and Melinda, so she decided to make it easier on him.

'No. I'm tired. I really want to go to bed.'

'Are you sure?'

'Yes.'

Patrick backed out as he said, 'Come and see us if you need...'

Ebony shut the door on him, locking herself away so she could finish crying alone.

Chapter 10

Melinda stormed into their room and put the bag down on the table before she unwrapped Myra's food for her and made her eat it. Myra chewed and watched them both.

'I'm sorry, Mel. She told me she found Connor then she just burst into tears. I've never seen her so upset before.'

'If she found him, why is she crying?'

'She's scared. I think something happened to her in Huntsville. Something worse than meeting Georgia. She said she found the house, maybe there was something in there that frightened her.'

'Like what, a body?'

'I don't know,' he shrugged, helplessly. 'She hasn't said anything else to me. She never does. This is the first time I've ever seen her show actual sorrow. She keeps all this rage and resentment bottled up and now it's all surfacing.'

Melinda plonked herself down on the bed. 'That makes sense.' Her anger seemed to be abating, still he knew the argument wasn't over yet.

'Can I take Firefly to see Ebony?' Myra asked. 'She'll fix everything.'

'No, honey,' Melinda said softly. 'Ebony really needs to be on her own right now.'

Patrick took out another burger and handed it to Melinda. She stared at it before she took it, completely disheartened.

'So where is Connor?' she asked.

'Ebony said something about a law firm... Riley, someone and someone. Guess we'll head over there tomorrow.'

'You go,' she said. 'I'll take Myra to a park or something. She'll be bored out of her mind waiting around a lawyer's office.'

'You sure?'

'Yeah. I'll go buy her a toy or take her to get ice cream. Make up for this disaster of a holiday.'

Patrick sat beside her. 'We will go somewhere nicer. No one's expecting me back at work for at least two weeks.'

'If it all,' she remarked gravely. 'I can't believe how much you're putting on the line for Ebony.'

'I'll find another job. I don't think I'm cut out for helping wayward teens, anyway.'

'You are. You're good at what you do. In this case, too good. If someone like Ebony can allow you into her world...'

Patrick was too far in. All because he wanted to fix her when he couldn't fix himself. The fact Georgia knew Ebony's family was only a coincidence. Their pasts weren't inexplicably linked at all; a lot of people who worked in the cannery went to the neighbouring towns after they lost their jobs. Harry took his own life because he couldn't provide for his family. Patrick didn't need to know any more than that. His mother was a basket case because of his father, and Georgia couldn't accept that she had lost her job over a salmonella outbreak. She had to blame someone, so Freya became her scapegoat.

He tried to remember seeing Freya, recalling Ursula and Georgia warning him not to ride his bike around the other end of town. Whispers surfaced now and then of a young woman who wasn't from there killing herself, but he hadn't paid any attention. He and Ebony had been close once, at least in terms of distance. It was strange to know they were both in the same town at one point, she as a baby and him as a disgruntled teen who'd been forced to spend two precious weeks of his summer holidays there.

Patrick guessed Connor must have taken Ebony to the orphanage the minute Josie was dead. The prick hadn't made any attempt to raise her as his own, even though a lawyer's salary would have been sufficient to do so. All Patrick really wanted to know was why her father and her uncle had just vanished on her completely.

Unless there was some weight to Georgia's ramblings. He had suspected all along was there was something malignant within Ebony, he just didn't want Georgia filling Ebony's head with lies the way Dora had with Melinda. Suspicions, accusations... they were all pointless and unfair. Patrick didn't want Ebony made out to be a criminal anymore. Even if she was a thief, she still wasn't a demon.

'But Dora was right, in a way,' Melinda said eventually. 'Ebony is driving a wedge between us, Patrick.'

'I know. I'm sorry.'

'Maybe Connor will take her.'

'Who knows? I don't know what else to do for her now. I just can't leave her all alone given the state she's in. Until now she's been acting like none of this is bothering her.'

'She can stay with us for a while if Connor can't look after her,' Melinda said with some reluctance. 'Maybe if Nicholas comes back to sort out his divorce with Eliza, we can discuss the possibility of her staying with him. One of them has to take responsibility for her while she's a minor.'

'Otherwise, she's just back in the system as another ward. Someone else's problem.'

'And not yours.'

They looked at each other, dismayed and shattered. Myra was muttering to herself and waving her pony at the wall that stood between her and Ebony.

Ebony woke on top of the bed covers, still in her clothes, sometime around five. She crawled off the bed and staggered to the window that offered her a view of the alley below. In amongst the garbage that lined the alley were people curled up in blankets. Even in the dim light, she could see them moving around slowly, waking from their dreams of a better life. She considered going down and handing them some of Shane's money.

Her own dreams were full sadness and fear. Ebony had been pacing the corridor of the old house, holding her hands over her ears. She could hear the baby crying endlessly as she was begging for it to stop. It wasn't the crying that agitated her so much as it was the horrible blackness that enveloped her. In her dream, she had the memory of this blackness being with her every day, long before the baby was born. She was crying constantly from her terminal sorrow.

Finally, she went to the bathroom and took out an old cutthroat razor she'd used to shave a man's face, lovingly and gently. Once upon a time, before the blackness really took hold, she had been in love with this man — so deeply in love that she had given up her whole life to be with him. She'd hoped that they would be free of Freya, and when they were, their lives would be better. But now he was gone. The baby had driven him away. Even though his mother had finally passed on, he was still scared of their future.

Towards the end of the nightmare, she went into the small room that was the baby's nursery. She had barely touched the child, only doing what was needed to keep her safe and well. To be near the child and to hold her only brought on an intolerable pain in her heart. The first day the child had suckled on her breast, Ebony had felt a terrible anguish coming from inside of her; from somewhere so deep and unexplored. The visions had begun with the old woman and continued on with the birth of her child, getting worse by the day.

Now it was time to end it all. With the razor in her dress pocket, she took the pillow from under the screaming baby's head and held it over its face, then slowly lowered it down...

The dream ended there. For the first time in her life, Ebony was grateful for the morning. She took a shower, feeling drained from the lack of food and the weeping that had lulled her into an exhausted slumber.

Patrick was knocking on her door around seven. Though she was dressed in clean clothes, Ebony didn't feel much better.

'We'll go get some breakfast first,' he said while she locked her door. 'Then you and I are going to see Connor. I found the address. Riley, Chase and Tomlin, right?'

'Yeah,' she croaked.

'Did you sleep okay?'

'Not really.'

'You look awful.' His sympathy was killing her.

She shrugged again. Talking was taking up too much of her energy already, even with the brevity of her answers.

Melinda and Myra didn't join them for breakfast. Patrick explained they had gone sightseeing for the day since Melinda didn't want Myra to get bored.

'She okay with that?' Ebony asked. 'She looked pissed last night.'

'She's fine,' he said, and she realised now what a terrible liar he was.

Ebony took a sip of coffee. 'I don't want to make things harder on you, Patrick. Or anyone. I've ruined one life already...'

'What do you mean?'

'It's complicated.'

Patrick leaned in like he always did when he wanted more from her. 'What else did you find in the house?'

She could tell he had been dying to ask her since he'd found her in Huntsville.

'Nothing. Just a bunch of canned goods,' she said. 'That's it.'

'No, it's not.'

'You wouldn't believe me anyway,'

'I've been willing to believe a lot more than most people since I met you, Ebony. I knew there was something more to the videotape than anyone was willing to admit.'

She sighed out her frustration. She hadn't dreamt of the tape for almost a week. That Freya had mentioned Jeremy left Ebony more confused. Did it mean Freya had been there, watching over her? What business did she have haunting a goddamn bank? Unless it was to protect Ebony. Maybe she hadn't made Jeremy shoot himself, either. She was hoping more and more it had been Freya all along.

'I saw her. I saw my grandmother.'

Patrick's eyes grew a little wider. 'She's not dead?'

'Oh, she's dead. She said she's in Hell. With my mother.'

'You saw her ghost.'

'Maybe.' Ebony stared at the dregs of her coffee like she was looking for visions or clues to her future.

'What else did she say?' Patrick went on.

'That we're the same. That it's my responsibility to make people see who they really are...That I'm the last one, but I'll bring more of our kind...'

'What kind?'

'She didn't give us a name. She only called us abominations.'

Patrick hadn't moved back. 'Georgia said something about Freya putting a curse on the town. That she used her powers to poison the food.'

'Perhaps she did.'

'So you think she's a witch, and you are too?'

'We could be.'

'I don't think it's true.' He wasn't saying that to be kind, he was just being honest. He didn't believe she was anything evil or wrong.

'What do you think, then?' Ebony asked, losing her patience.

Patrick shook his head. 'I've no idea what to think. When I went to Huntsville with my mother, Ursula, I was always so desperate to leave and I kept to myself. I remember everyone in the town being really distant or mean. And I only vaguely remember Georgia going on about this old woman. When I saw her the other day, she said Freya was the one who gave me nightmares. I was just pissed off I had to spend part of my holidays there and not at home.'

'But you came from Huntsville, right? You grew up there?'

'We left when I was about six, so I don't remember much from back then. I'm glad we moved away.'

'I would be too.'

'Leaving didn't make much difference to how my dad felt. He still ended up killing himself anyway.'

Ebony was given reason to pause, at last seeing their common ground: suicidal parents.

'He shot himself,' Patrick said, answering before she could ask. 'Then later my mother drank herself into permanent psychosis.'

It sounded so false and hollow to her when she said, 'I'm sorry.'

'It's just ever since I saw that tape of you in the bank, I couldn't forget your expression.' His eyes were now on the window, or whatever was beyond it. 'I had to know why you weren't afraid, why you refused to move or obey Jeremy. You had a gun in your face.'

'He wasn't going to hurt me. He couldn't. I don't know what I did to stop him. I didn't ask for that... blackness to come out of him. It was just in there and it came out. Obviously, he thought the only way to stop it was to die.'

'Is it the only way?'

She saw the blood again on her wrists and blinked rapidly to make it vanish.

'I think it is. The blackness... it's pain, pure pain that exists deep down in everyone. Their nightmares, their repressed memories — everything they keep locked up, not wanting to contemplate. It's their dirty thoughts, their murderous intentions, their anger. All the things they're afraid of admitting to ever thinking or feeling.'

'And you bring it out?'

'I'm not so sure if it was me. It could have been my grandmother. Or maybe...'

'Maybe what?'

'I'm too scared of realising it was me all along,' Ebony confessed. 'That Georgia's right, and I'm a demon and my only real home is Hell.'

He reached across the table to take her hand, causing her to hold her breath. 'You don't belong in Hell, Ebony,' he told her firmly. 'Do you even believe in it?'

'No. I don't. Doesn't mean there isn't one.'

'C'mon.' He got up, taking out his wallet to pay for their food. 'We better go see Connor.'

Ebony knew her maudlin thoughts were frightening Patrick and that he didn't want to talk about it, or about his own family.

While she sat beside him in the car, Ebony considered the blackness carefully, the way it had almost danced of its own accord before Jeremy's distraught features. She imagined what she did was turn a key, open a door and allow the blackness to seep out. People didn't look at her for too long because already she would have been unlocking their minds. Suddenly the memory of something bad or shameful was at the helm of their thoughts when they hadn't considered it for many years. Or it was something horrible and perverse that they had never realised was there, and it shocked them into diverting their gaze from her. Her dreams were helping her discover all this, as much as they were hindering her from getting a decent night's sleep.

Patrick had more trouble finding the building where Riley, Chase and Tomlin Solicitors was situated. The numbers on the buildings weren't always obvious. He gave up driving and parked the car so they could continue their search on foot. It was early morning, and the streets were loaded with people rushing to work.

They were caught up in the tide, trying to keep an eye on each other so as not to lose one another. Patrick suddenly called out to her.

'Ebony! Here it is.'

He'd found the number. A directory out front said the office was on the 27th floor.

As they went to go inside, a man went straight past her, his sharp profile and dark hair stealing her attention. She quickly checked the picture she'd shown Georgia.

'Connor!' she suddenly blurted.

He ignored her and moved through the revolving door. She dashed after him, almost getting trapped for a second in one of the door's compartments. She squeezed past two more suited men and moved into the throng.

'Connor, wait!' she called out. Again, he didn't hear her. She shouted his name once more, and he stopped, turned back a second and kept walking. Furious now she knew he was ignoring her, she stood still in the middle of the building's foyer and opened her mouth.

'CONNOR!'

The crowd stopped and the din of voices ceased. She drew looks from everyone except Connor. Ahead of her, he was now clutching his briefcase unusually tight. He finally turned and came back towards her.

'I know who you are,' he growled, getting close to her face. 'I don't know where your father is. Leave, now.'

'I don't think I could find my father even if I wanted to. I just want some answers.'

'I don't care. I want you to leave.'

The crowd began moving slowly, but not without the odd rubbernecker. Patrick appeared beside her.

'Please, Connor,' he said calmly. 'We won't keep you any longer than it will take for you to explain.'

'Explain what?' Connor snapped.

'Why the hell you left me in an orphanage,' Ebony snapped back.

Connor was staring her down. She wanted the mist to come to his eyes, but he quickly averted his gaze.

'Don't even start with that, Ebony. It won't help you now. I'll give you your answers, then you have to go.'

'Fine.'

Connor told them to follow him and keep up. They rode up in the elevator in silence to the 27th floor, getting more stares from the other occupants.

As they stepped out into the lavish reception area of Riley Chase and Tomlin, Connor instantly told the young girl at the front desk to hold all his calls for the morning. He directed Ebony and Patrick into his office, ordered them to take a seat and slammed the door behind himself.

Before he sat, Patrick tried to introduce himself to Connor, who in turn didn't shake his hand or even let him finish.

Ebony sat down in the leather chair and looked about herself, assuming Connor was very good at his job since the office was well furnished. He had a mahogany desk and black lacquered wooden cabinets and shelves, along with a collection of large pot plants. The stationery on his desk was neatly — perhaps even compulsively — arranged. The room itself was oval-shaped and the floor-to-ceiling windows curved around them to give a panoramic view of the city. She could see the blue sky now, cut in pieces by the other skyscrapers.

Connor sat back in his reclining office chair.

'Part of me always wondered if you'd ever manage to track me down,' Connor said to her. 'What you have to understand, Ebony, is I wasn't going to care for you because of your grandmother. I loved my sister Josie very much, but I couldn't save her from Freya. If you met eyes with her, even for a moment, you were forever affected by her.'

'My mother could have saved herself,' Ebony said quietly.

'Except she loved your father too much to leave.'

'Then why did he leave?' Patrick asked.

'Because he had a daughter. He could have ended the legacy. There hadn't been a daughter born in his family for many years. Only sons.'

'So he left because I was a girl?' Ebony asked, disgusted.

Connor's frustration was about to take precedence over his patience.

'Let me start at the beginning.' He picked up his pen and tapped it on the desk a few times before he spoke. 'Josie worked in an aged care facility ever since she was qualified. She liked working with the elderly. I could never do something like that, but she had all the patience of a saint.'

Ebony felt this last statement was too pointed for her liking, however, she let Connor continue.

'Josie responded to their frailty, their inevitable loneliness when their supposed loved ones left them to die. She never expected anything from anyone, and she cared for everyone unconditionally.

'We were close because our parents weren't. She was older than me, very protective. I stayed in touch with her over the years, especially while I was in law school. We met for dinner as often as our schedules permitted.

'One evening, she told me was going to do house visits in some of the nearby towns. She wanted to help people who couldn't afford to put their relatives in a home by coming to their houses and teaching them how to dress wounds and bathe their dying family members. I was so proud of her. She didn't want money for the service at all. She lived a simple life by herself in a small apartment, and her job paid her well enough to maintain that life.

'After a few months, a man from Huntsville called her. He was the only one left in his family who could care for his sick mother, so he had brought her to his house since he'd no money for a home. He had no idea what to do. His mother was in a state of catatonia by then and in the last stages of Alzheimer's. She couldn't feed herself or do anything. She needed catheterising and he struggled to get her around the house despite her diminutive frame.

'Josie went to see this man, Philip, and his mother, Freya, three times a week. She taught Philip how to care for Freya, keeping him on a strict schedule so her medication and needs were tended to as routinely as possible. It wasn't supposed to be a permanent arrangement. She was seeing other folks when she could...' He stopped and Ebony watched his eyes grow dark. 'But sadly, something very unfortunate happened between her and Philip.'

Patrick asked before Ebony could. 'What was that?'

'They fell in love.'

Connor became distant. He wasn't really regarding either of them now. He was in his past, or rather, in Josie's past.

'Perhaps it was because Josie took pity on Philip like she took pity on anything that couldn't care for itself. Stray cats and dogs, wounded birds... Philip was wounded, more than Freya. He'd been abandoned by his family, left with the responsibility of caring for Freya in her autumnal years. Still, Josie loved him. She cared for him as much as she did for Freya, and couldn't bring herself to end the arrangement. So, she moved in with them, even giving up her job at the home to care for Freya full time. I was happy for her, but she already seemed perturbed by something she couldn't quite explain.

'It became obvious what this was when she invited me to dinner to meet Philip and Freya.

'The house was cold, and not just because Huntsville is dank and dreary most of the year round. It was another kind of chill that felt unnatural. I noticed it the minute I was through the front door. Philip was a quiet man, sheepish in a way, not terribly affable. He shook my hand firmly enough but he was never big on making eye contact with me.

'Then Josie tentatively introduced me to Freya. She said it was important to acknowledge her, even if she didn't respond. Josie insisted everyone interact with her as they would anyone, so she could feel in touch with her surroundings. The woman just stared straight ahead.' Connor's voice was softer now. 'When Josie left to finish dinner, I swear Freya's eyes moved over me. I remember my spine becoming rigid, and I felt incredibly embarrassed all of a sudden. I was thinking, for no reason at all, of a time back in high school, when I'd stared at a girl in class for too long and had been caught out by a teacher. I hadn't thought of it for years.'

'She unlocked you,' Ebony murmured.

'I suppose she did... I asked Philip about his family only to distract myself from Freya. He said very little to me, other than his father was dead and his brother had committed suicide at fourteen. I thought this was extremely grim of him to just mention this, still I listened anyway. His uncle had been caring for Freya up until he passed, so the onus had been placed upon Philip to continue her care.

'Even though Freya didn't sit with us, all through dinner I was distracted by remnants of old memories. I heard taunting laughter, the raised voices of my parents arguing and doors being slammed. I felt so overwhelmed that I ended up excusing myself and left as early as I could. Josie stopped me on the porch. Her eyes were wide and full of panic when she asked if I'd felt it too.

'Of course I was puzzled. She wrapped her cardigan around herself and let out a breath of steam. I'd never seen her so rattled.

'"There's something odd about her," Josie went on in a hushed voice. "Even when our parents were fighting, I never felt this scared. I haven't slept well for months. I feel her watching me even though she doesn't move."

'I impulsively told Josie then she didn't have to stay, she was more than welcome to come live with me. I'd have done anything for her.

'She refused, saying she and Philip were too much in love for her to end things, and it wouldn't have been fair. Her next words stuck with me. She said softly, "I've never wanted someone to just... die as much as I want her to. It sounds so awful now I'm saying it out loud."

'I held her as she trembled, telling her she was just tired from her work. She gave so much of herself and felt so horrible for any small thought of malice. She practically tortured herself for thinking how she did.

'Philip came out and carefully asked her if she could come back inside. He looked just as pained as she did. I felt for them both. Clearly Freya's needs were draining them, but there wasn't much I could do. I left and didn't see Josie again for perhaps another four months.

'I did call her once or twice in that time, but our conversations were always cut short by Josie's strange paranoia. She thought Freya could hear her thoughts. She was petrified. Soon she stopped answering the phone, and Philip would only tell me she was too tired to talk. At first, I was simply worried for her, but over time, I grew suspicious of Philip. He was keeping my sister under wraps. My resentment only festered the more he refused to let me speak to her.'

Connor's cold demeanour hadn't shifted. Ebony was dying for him to finish his retelling, forcing herself not to interject.

'The only other thing I knew of Philip was that he worked at the local cannery doing quality control,' continued Connor. 'The Wentworth cannery was well known. I bought their food, so did most people. Until one year there was an outbreak of contaminated tins. There were around two hundred cases of food poisoning, one resulting in the death of a small child. The backlash from the media was a black mark on Wentworth's reputation. As you probably already know, the factory was shut down after that. Suddenly Philip, along with almost everyone in town, was out of a job.'

'Do you think Freya did it?' Ebony asked.

He wasn't upset by the interruption. 'It sounded like an unfortunate circumstance,' Connor stated with a small shrug. 'Bad luck. I went to visit Josie to offer my sympathies. She was commiserating with two other couples, John and Georgia Harrington, and Ursula and Harry Farber.'

'So you met my parents, Ursula and Harry?' Patrick wasn't as surprised as Connor.

'That's how you know each other?' he asked Patrick.

'It's total coincidence. He's my caseworker,' Ebony said bluntly. 'I'm a convicted shoplifter.'

Connor smirked bitterly. 'Well, I suppose that's the least of your flaws, isn't it.'

'Just finish the story, Connor,' she said snidely. She wasn't going to hang around after this. She already hated him.

'Yes, to answer your question, Patrick, I met your parents. The meeting was brief, however. I discovered they had all worked at the cannery and were now in the same boat. Instead of standing together, they became torn by the incident, much like the rest of the town. Georgia was speaking very grimly to Josie. I heard her accusing Freya of everything — that things had become rotten in the town ever since Freya had moved there. Until then, they were all firm friends, but now Georgia seemed out to blame anyone she could. Philip then came out on the porch, and the argument became heated. Josie came to me while Georgia, John and Philip argued. Ursula and Harry said very little the entire time. Finally, the pair came down the stairs and went to Josie.

'"I'm not a superstitious man," Harry said, "but even I can't help thinking Freya's done this."

'Ever quick to defend her loved ones, and perhaps more afraid of Freya hearing her agree, Josie said, "She's just an old woman. She can't even speak to ask for food. How could she have possibly done this?"

'Ursula suddenly dropped all her passivity, accusing Josie of being just suspicious of Freya. Then she went on about her son, how she had to protect his future, so they were leaving town to start over. She curtly suggested Josie leave as well and get as far away from Freya as possible, even if it meant leaving Philip.

'Ursula and Harry walked on while the argument on the porch flared up. Josie was distraught by then. I remember Georgia barking biblical passages at Philip as she stormed down the porch steps and across the lawn with John in tow. The fury in Georgia's eyes was immense, still I saw her terror there, poorly disguised. Philip went back inside, slamming the door.

'Josie was now in tears, saying how they had always been friends. She'd invited them around for dinner many times but now they had nothing but bad words for Freya. No one seemed to say anything logical about the situation. Even the investigation into the contamination went nowhere, so of course the suspicions and accusations became more outlandish.

'I told Josie some people were just ready to blame whoever and whatever they can. All she could do was let them be. She went on crying, saying they couldn't stay in town and it was only going to get harder from then on. At that moment, she confessed she was pregnant, sounding almost disappointed by it. What should have been wonderful news was now tainted by tragedy.

'Just as I was offering to help Josie with some money for the baby, Philip emerged and marched towards her, demanding she come inside and asking me to go.

'I told him to stop being so unreasonable.

'"I'm not being unreasonable," he said. "We have Freya and the baby to be concerned with now. We just want some peace."

'"And how will you manage that?" I asked. "Josie won't be able to look after the baby and Freya at once. And what else can you do besides factory work?"

'"I'll find another job," Philip said arrogantly. "Even if I have to go to another town. We'll be fine."

'What I realised then was he was still a proud man despite his quiet ways.

'Another few months elapsed before I heard anything from Josie. I'd stopped calling and was just waiting for the news of the baby's arrival. Sometime in her third trimester, when Philip was out of town, still looking for another job, Josie called me. She said they'd had doctors in to see Freya. She was now on a ventilator, which they couldn't afford, and they were discussing the possibility of letting Freya go.

'Josie wanted to do it, but her nightmares held her back. Logically she knew it was the right thing, yet she said she was afraid of turning off the ventilator. Her next words rattled me even more.'

Patrick had been as quiet and attentive as Ebony until now. 'What did she say?'

'She said, "I can't do it. She knows. The things she does to people, to their heads, to my head... I don't think death will make her stop.'''

Ebony felt herself sink slowly into the chair, almost willing it to swallow her. Josie was right, death wasn't an obstacle for Freya.

Connor went on, maintaining the grim tone in his voice. 'I offered to come down and do it myself, but she told me not to. Freya wasn't about to let Josie or anyone end her life. If she didn't have the physical means to stop her, Freya certainly had the mental capability to put the fear of God into Josie.

'Though at the time, I was still reluctant to believe in Freya's abilities. I insisted to Josie it was just her guilt causing her to think this way. How many people had she sat beside while they died in the home where she worked? And how many of their families only bothered to reappear to hear the reading of their wills? Those people were vultures, I said. She wasn't horrible for wanting the old woman to go in peace. As far as I was concerned, neither she nor Philip could truly live until Freya was dead.

'Josie became frantic. She said her nightmares were getting worse and she could hardly eat. She felt a coldness in her belly. Nothing that the doctors could explain. She was checked, her baby was doing fine, but if she didn't eat, she'd have no strength to carry the child to term. Again, I thought it was just her guilt over Freya gnawing at her. I should have known better that the child was already having an influence on Josie as well.'

Ebony saw Patrick glance at her in her periphery. She didn't let on that Connor was stirring a mix of contempt and guilt in her so thick she wanted to scream.

'Josie told me she would speak to me later. She had to go check on Freya. I knew she was thinking the old bitch was listening again. But even with this thought, I was fidgeting, uncomfortable.' Connor shifted slightly, obviously remembering this sensation. 'It felt like I was in a suit one size too small and my shirt was too tight for me to breathe.

'I knew when the baby was due. She arrived healthy after a short and uneventful labour. The day after she was born, I went to the hospital to see Josie. She was horribly depressed, looking as though she'd been crying for weeks. She told me the minute Philip found out the baby was a girl, he left. She thought he'd gone to get her and the baby some things, but he never came back.

'I was furious and desperate not to go into a rage over the situation. Was his family so heartless they only wanted sons? What was his reason for this? Josie wept deeply and said Philip had become more and more anxious in the days before the baby was due. His own sleep had been horribly interrupted, and she thought he was more in angst about being unable to find a job now the baby was almost born. He said something strange to her one night, that God wouldn't help them if they had a little girl, and that Freya will have won. She thought he was talking nonsense, but he was deadly serious, and now his daughter was born, he was nowhere to be found.

'I begged Josie to come back to the city with me. She didn't want to leave Freya alone. I couldn't believe how stoic she was being all of a sudden. She was supposed to marry Philip — though they couldn't afford it — but now she was alone with an infant and a woman who was never her responsibility in the first place.

'A nurse took a polaroid of the two of us and the baby. She said we looked like the most unhappy family in the world. I didn't bother explaining anything.

'We went back to the house despite my reluctance to this, and Josie took the baby in to see Freya. We stood over her bed in the freezing room. I wanted to smash the ventilator to pieces, never mind switch it off. I didn't care what it meant for me. Josie's misery and the miserable life of her newborn were all Freya's doing.

'Josie bent the baby over Freya for her to see, and the most sickening thing occurred. For the first time in years, Freya began to smile. She was conscious, alert, and she turned her wicked eyes to the baby. Then she started laughing, her breath steaming up her mask. I almost strangled the woman, but I didn't need to. She laughed herself to death.'

Connor gaze was becoming empty.

'Once more, I pleaded for Josie to come with me. We could have undertakers get rid of the body. All she needed to do was pack her things and it would be over.

'She simply refused.

'I couldn't contain my anger anymore. '"Why?" I demanded. "Why stay? What do you have here?"

'"He'll come back," she declared. She truly believed it when she said, "Now she's gone, we have nothing to be afraid of. So I need to be here for when he comes back."

'Needless to say, I was beside myself, while she was almost in a trance. She put the baby down in the new crib, still refusing to listen to me further. With no idea what to do, I left her there. I couldn't drag her out. I wish every day now I hadn't walked away, but she had lost all her reason. I thought she'd gone mad. I went back to my job, and hoped Philip would have the sense to come home.'

'But he didn't,' Ebony murmured. Her tears wanted to come but she wouldn't let them.

'Two weeks later I found Josie dead beside your crib.'

Ebony saw Patrick's face slacken with shock at Connor's words.

'Josie was in mourning,' Patrick argued. 'She was unwell and everyone had left her, including you. What else could she do?'

'She could have just killed Ebony. Ended the whole sorry mess. I'd have protected her and represented her as a depressed mother in need of help. But you weren't going to let that happen, were you.' He glared again at Ebony. Now she wanted to push Connor out the window.

'She was a baby,' Patrick exclaimed. 'How could she have possibly killed her own mother?'

Connor shot up out of his chair and loomed over his desk, directing one finger at Ebony as he shouted, 'Because she's Freya, through and through.' His hand dropped. 'I saw the pillow by the side of her head, bunched up where Josie's hands had gripped it, hard. I saw her there, mewling beside Josie's corpse. But I was too lenient. Too afraid.' He turned on Ebony once more. 'Soon as I had the paramedics take your mother from the house, I bundled you up and took you to those nuns. Even they were hesitant to take you in, they would have seen it better than I did, still they agreed. I hoped you'd grow up never knowing what you were. But then I heard about the bank robbery, about that boy...'

'He was going to kill her,' Patrick shouted as he stood up quickly from his chair.

'And she stood there like nothing was wrong and made sure he didn't.' Connor laughed spitefully. 'Do you know why she called you Ebony? Because of the blackness you wove inside her from the minute you were conceived. Black as ebony, she would say. Just like in a goddamn fairy tale.'

Ebony stormed out of the office, her vision almost blanketed by her rage. She was at the elevator when Patrick grabbed her by the arm. The receptionist watched on, along with a scattering of lawyers and clients. Ebony knew they'd have heard Connor's ranting.

'I'm so sorry, Ebony,' Patrick told her.

'What are you sorry for?' she murmured. 'Now I know everything Freya said was true. What difference does it make?'

'He's bitter, Ebony. He's no better than Georgia. He just wants someone to blame and you're the only one left.'

'Let's just go.'

The breeze outside was blessedly cool on Ebony's skin. She had been sweating while Connor screamed at her.

'We better find Melinda and go,' Ebony said, too numb now to make any other decisions. Tomorrow hardly mattered. She'd become lost with the truth, not found, and it sure as shit hadn't set her free.

Chapter 11

Patrick called Melinda's phone. He could hear children playing in the background so he assumed she was in a park somewhere.

'How did it go?' she asked.

'Badly. We shouldn't have come here. I think it's only made things worse.'

'So what now?'

'We can go. I'm not helping her at all and Connor practically blames her for everything. I'll tell you about it when you get back to the motel.'

'We'll be there soon.'

He took Ebony back to the motel and sat with her in her room, leaving the door open a little so he could hear Melinda come back.

'I don't know what else to say,' he said, feeling more pity for her than he ever had before. 'I can't believe him.'

'I can. It doesn't matter now.'

'But they don't get it. Didn't you say you thought you were protecting yourself? Like an octopus squirting ink?'

'That was just a thought, Patrick. It doesn't make me any less evil.'

'You can't listen to him. You're not evil.'

'Why did I stand there, Patrick? Why didn't I just get down when Jeremy told me to? Because Freya was right, I have to show them who they really are.'

'No, you don't. We'll go home and put all this behind us.'

'There is no us, Patrick,' she shouted as she stood and faced him off. 'It was just a coincidence our parents knew each other. If your father met Freya, then she got to him, too. To all of them. I think she did poison the food at the cannery.'

'Why would she have done that?'

'For no other reason than to just punish them for taking their lives for granted.'

'Well, who makes her the judge?' Patrick argued. 'Or you, for that matter?'

'I don't know!' she cried. 'I'll never know. I've been left here, and I'm just me. All alone.'

'You're not alone.' He stood up and took hold of her by her arms. 'And you're not evil. I'm not afraid of you.'

'Patrick, don't. You can't fix this. You can't fix me. I'm fucked up. Damaged goods.'

'Try and make me see all my blackness, then,' he challenged. 'If you're so certain you're a monster, prove it to me.'

'I can't do that to you.'

'Try.'

Patrick knew what he was doing was completely idiotic, still he needed to prove her wrong. If anyone had seen them, they'd have been accused of being too intimate. Stupidly, he put that aside without seeing how much damage this was about to do. He rationalised everything, telling himself this would be their only experiment and he had all the willpower required to stop her going too far.

Ebony kept staring as he stared back and searched the flecks of light in her grey eyes. He felt himself frowning, yet she continued to stare. He wasn't threatening her life, and yet something moved over his eyes. The blackness was there, radiating from the irises and moving through the tiny capillaries. He swore he felt it drain into his retinas once he could no longer see her, and he was still holding on to her, his grip getting tighter.

The disembodied faces were there in the mist. He recognised his parents. They were angry, pained... His body began to tremble and his breathing became shallow.

'No,' he whispered, not to Ebony, but to Harry. 'Don't do it.' He was murmuring in a tiny, childlike voice then. '...No!'

He saw the figure of Harry formed in the black mists. Patrick got to see his face this time, not like before when his back had been turned. The bang was louder and seemed to last forever. Harry's body slumped to the floor. Patrick felt small and his panic was incomparable to the time he'd first seen Harry die. Now, with the knowledge and pain of adulthood, he wanted nothing more than to put a gun to his own head and end it all.

He shoved Ebony away and fell back onto the bed. She toppled against the table opposite him just as Melinda barged into the room.

'Patrick! What the hell is this?'

'Daddy!' Myra flew into the room and leapt onto Patrick. Her tiny body felt so heavy on his torso. Ebony was slumped on the floor, clasping her head with her hands. He felt ill with this new discovery. She could do it anytime she wanted, it didn't matter the reason.

Melinda propped Patrick up. He was sweating profusely.

'It's okay...' he breathed. 'I asked for it.'

'Asked for what?' Melinda was mortified.

'I asked her to do it.'

'Jesus Christ,' Melinda cried. 'What the hell is wrong with you both? This is sick.'

Myra started to sob as Melinda eased Patrick to his feet. He felt so frail in the presence of her anger.

'I'm sorry,' Ebony cried, struggling to stand. Patrick knew she wanted to help him. 'Melinda, I'm sorry.'

'Just leave us alone, Ebony. Please.'

Patrick tried to calm her. 'Mel, it's alright. I told you, I asked her to do it.'

'I don't care anymore,' she shouted. 'Enough already.'

'Calm down, please,' he begged her, his head aching sharply. 'It was stupid and I'm sorry. I was trying to prove a point.'

'You would die by her hand just to prove a point?'

'She can't kill me,' he said. It all finally made sense. 'She can't kill anyone.'

'I can only make them kill themselves,' Ebony told her.

Melinda was in tears when Patrick held her close.

'We're too tired to go now,' he told her. 'Let's just stay until morning and then we'll go. It's been a horrible day.'

'Actually, Myra and I had a lovely day.' Melinda said, smiling sarcastically as she pushed him away. 'But you were too busy with this bullshit to be with us.'

She stormed out after picking up Myra. Ebony waved Patrick away dismissively when he tried to check on her. He knew he had to leave her alone, even if she was terrified. He was destroying her and Melinda all at once with his ridiculous ideas.

Back in his room, he tried to hold Myra and Melinda, needing them close more than he ever had in his life. Mel only yanked their daughter out of his reach.

'I don't believe this,' she said, pacing the room as she rocked Myra to stop her crying. 'You let her make you want to kill yourself.'

She didn't even try to cover Myra's ears from her words.

'I knew what she was doing, Mel. I knew when to stop her. I was in control.' This was all a complete lie. He hadn't had a clue what he'd been in for and he would have gone ahead with offing himself had the means been available. He felt disgusted with himself and his childish dare. It was like he and Ebony had been playing a ridiculous choking game to see if it really could make them pass out.

'What if you weren't?' Melinda asked darkly. 'What if it doesn't happen now and it hits you later on?'

Patrick's stomach felt as though it was quickly filling with ice water. Melinda was right. The effect didn't have to be instantaneous. If his dad had met Freya, even for a moment, and just looked at her, she could have done the same thing. And if it never left him...

Even now, in all the commotion, the despair lingered. He'd allowed himself to be influenced by Ebony. He'd let her in just far enough. He felt like a complete fool, and only wanted to hold on to Myra, to have some kind of warmth near him now he felt colder than he ever had before. Melinda still kept her at a distance. There was not a scrap of trust left in his wife's eyes now.

'Tomorrow, this ends, Patrick. We go home, and we send her on her way. Whether she means to be or not, she is dangerous.'

Patrick had to agree now. He had to get Ebony out of his life and hope he hadn't done irreparable damage to his own sanity.

Loneliness was Ebony's only friend now. It had to be. People abandoned her to protect themselves.

She sat on the floor of her room for hours, remembering Patrick's vision. She had seen exactly what he saw. His own father's death. But now the true pain of it that he had spent so many years denying was at the surface. She had dragged it up in her net of evil intentions. How could she have done that to him when he'd been nothing but kind to her?

She opened up her bag and dug out the boxcutter she'd found at the building site, at last seeing a reason make sure the cut would go deep enough.

Ebony had to do what Connor and Josie had been too scared to. Living meant Freya's legacy would continue. It wouldn't be enough to cut out her womanhood, or deny herself love in any form. She could still do damage all on her own. If she died, and there was nothing left, then they would be safe. And if there really was a Hell, she could go there and mock Freya instead.

Pulling down her sleeve, she put the point of the blade to her wrist and pressed down.

The cut was interrupted by a voice outside her door. It sounded like Melinda. Ebony panicked and moved towards the door, thinking Patrick was in trouble. Opening it slightly, she tried to hear what Melinda was saying.

'No, you don't know me, Connor. I'm Patrick Farber's wife... What?... Yes, yes she is... I know, but it's not her fault... Wait, I don't understand... You'll take her?... Well, that's wonderful, Connor. She has no one else... Yes, of course. I'll tell her right away. We can bring her now if... No, tomorrow's fine... Great. See you then. And thank you so much.'

She snapped her phone shut, smiling with relief. Ebony quietly stepped back and closed the door, and Melinda knocked just moments later.

Ebony slipped the knife into her pocket and pulled the door back.

'I was just talking to Connor. Can I come in?'

She stayed in the doorway, not allowing Melinda through. The act clearly unsettled Melinda, but she went on anyway.

'He's agreed to take care of you. You can go to school here, he'll pay for everything. He wants to be your guardian, Ebony.'

'Really?' Ebony said stoically.

'Yes,' Melinda smiled. 'This solves everything for you.'

'I thought he hated me.'

'He feels terrible about how today went. He was too shocked at seeing you and said some things he didn't mean. But he's glad you're okay. He wants to apologise.'

'How do you know all this?' she asked, playing dumb. 'Did he call you?'

'Ah, no... I'm sorry, I called him.'

'Why?'

'Because, Ebony, you need a family. A real one. We can't be your family. Do you understand? I have to protect my child.'

'I'd never do anything to Myra.' Her heart ached at the idea of Myra being inflicted with that much torment.

'I know,' Melinda said, more strained than ever. 'I didn't mean you would. It's just, Patrick needs his life back. We all do.'

'I know. It's alright, Melinda. I understand.'

'Then you'll go with us to see Connor?'

The hope in Melinda's eyes grew when Ebony nodded her head.

'And please don't hate me for this, Ebony. I only want what's best for you.'

'I don't hate you. I don't hate anyone.' Except me, she refrained from adding.

'I'm glad. Goodnight, Ebony.' Melinda smiled again. There wasn't any sense of victory in her smile, but Ebony easily detected the presence of her satisfaction.

When the door was closed, Ebony sat back down on the floor. She knew what was really going on. She wasn't stupid.

But maybe it would be for the best if she just played along.

Chapter 12

'You called Connor?' Patrick asked Melinda incredulously, regretting not telling her about Connor's story since he had simply been too weak from his moment with Ebony to do anything. He felt slightly better now he had slept for almost ten hours, but part of him was still restless. Melinda had gone out for coffee early and had told him this when she'd returned.

'Yes, I did,' she said firmly.

'Why?'

'Because he's her only family. I don't want to just abandon her.'

'You weren't saying that yesterday.' He wasn't able to hide his suspicious tone.

'It was wrong of me to suggest just dumping her. I thought things over while you were sleeping. It isn't really her fault. If she's with family-'

'Connor is not her family, Mel. The guy practically admitted he wishes he killed her.' He kept this last part hushed while Myra watched cartoons.

Melinda's certainty took off. 'Really?'

'Yes. Plus, she absolutely hates him. She won't go back.'

'But, why would he want to sacrifice his freedom just to see her dead? He can't be that malicious. When I spoke to him he seemed perfectly nice and perfectly sorry for how he'd acted.'

'Mel, you weren't there yesterday. The man is a lunatic.'

'Well, she said she was willing to go with him.'

'She did?' Now he was completely confused, thinking he'd woken up in some parallel universe where Connor was nice and Ebony was happy to be left with him.

'Why don't you go and talk to her?' Melinda suggested.

He pushed himself up. 'I will.'

'Patrick?'

'Yes?'

'I'm sorry about yesterday. I was just so scared for you.'

'I know. I'm sorry, too.' He hugged her weakly, still confused, then left her with Myra.

Outside in the corridor, he knocked on Ebony's door, trying the handle when she didn't answer. He'd told her to keep her door locked when she was alone, but now he wished he had a key. He started banging again.

'Ebony!'

Melinda came out. 'Is she in the shower?'

'I can't hear anything.' He only began to panic as his fist connected with the door repeatedly. 'Ebony!'

'I'll call the front desk.'

Melinda went back into their room. He banged a few more times and gave up when she came back.

'She's left. She checked out.'

'What?'

'She handed her key in this morning,' Melinda said. 'She's gone.'

'Shit. Get Myra. We have to go.'

'Don't panic, Patrick.'

'Why would she go without saying something?'

'Why not? She lives by her own terms, you know that.'

'I still have to make sure she's alright.'

'We can say goodbye,' Melinda said firmly. 'Then we're going home.'

Patrick knew Ebony was terrified. He'd desperately wanted to talk to her all night but didn't want to leave Melinda, and he hadn't the strength by then anyway. Ebony was making decisions based on the pain she felt. What good would it do her going to Connor? Why would she even accept his apology? He guessed she must have been so afraid of being alone, she would rather be with someone that resented her. If she couldn't go back to Eliza and Nicholas, then Connor was the only option.

But none of this made sense at all. They packed their things, checked out, and made their way to Connor's office.
Ebony wasn't sure exactly how to get to Connor's office. She paid for a taxi to the address, and it cost a lot more than she'd expected since the driver probably took her in the wrong direction to begin with. She hardly cared. She was going in the wrong direction anyway. Back to Connor.

But with all the disaster she was going to cause and had caused, it stood to reason she should go to him. She knew he wasn't going to apologise, not honestly anyway. He wanted to finish things and she wanted the same. Ebony could do it herself, or she could allow him the satisfaction of ending it whilst setting him up for his own downfall.

The boxcutter was still in her pocket. She had her backpack with her. She was going to pretend if Patrick caught her leaving that she was off to see Connor and take him up on his unexpected offer. Then she was going to tell him everything was going to be fine, and that he and Melinda could go back to their lives.

Melinda's motives were obvious, too. She wanted a solution to her problem so she chose to call Connor, not knowing what he was really like, in the hope he would take Ebony in. If a lioness protected her cubs with force, Melinda protected her pride with what she believed was common sense. Ebony knew she was a damaging part of Patrick's life. She agreed with Melinda. This was for the best, and it was better still Melinda didn't know what she had really set into motion. The guilt would never leave her alone because Melinda was kind and beautiful and full of love. She wasn't something rotten, like Ebony.

She wasn't a defect or an abomination.

At his office, Ebony was advised to sit and wait for Connor to greet her. He came out and quickly took her aside.

'I'm so sorry, Ebony. It wasn't fair what happened yesterday.'

'It's alright. It doesn't matter now.'

'Come on. I have a lot of work to do today, but you can tag along.'

She followed behind him, keeping her head down. He even introduced her to a couple of people in the hallway, including his partners.

'She's my long lost niece,' Connor said brightly. 'Can you believe she found me?'

'That's great, Connor,' Mr Tomlin replied. 'If she wants, she can come and meet my kids. I have a daughter your age, Ebony. I think you two would get along well.'

'That would be nice,' Ebony said quietly.

Connor amiably told Tomlin he would see him later as he took Ebony to his office. When it was obvious no one could see, he shoved her through the door and locked it behind him.

She dropped her bag but didn't turn.

'I didn't think you'd fall for it,' he said. 'I took my chances when Patrick's wife called. She's extremely gullible, though I didn't think you were.'

'I don't care. It doesn't matter.'

'It does, Ebony. It matters a great deal.'

He came up closer behind her as she slipped her hand into her pocket and grasped the boxcutter, keeping her thumb on the retractor.

'You know that you shouldn't be alive, Ebony. I've prepared for this. I know I'm doing the right thing. I can pull my defences right here and tell everyone you attacked me. And I'll probably get away with it. Even if I don't, I'll still know I did the right thing.'

'It must feel really good to know that, Connor. To feel so just.'

'Where was the justice for my sister?' he snarled in her ear, his spittle hitting her skin. 'Where was the pity?'

'I do pity her, and you and my father, for having to know such things as me and Freya.'

'But clearly not enough. You will never have enough remorse for your actions.'

'I do. Why else do you think I'm here?' She went to turn to him. From the corner of her eye, she saw him loosen his necktie.

'Don't you dare move. Don't you dare look at me. I know how you do it. You stand there and look straight ahead.' The intimacy of the moment made her flesh burn. 'Now, let's get this over with.'

She slipped the blade up and let him wrap the silk tie around her neck. He pulled the tie tighter, grunting as he flexed with his fist against her neck, his other arm grabbing her around the waist.

'You're doing a good thing, Ebony,' he whispered, 'giving yourself up.'

Spots began to form before her eyes. He was wrong, she knew she didn't need to look at him. He was destroying her, squeezing the breath out of her, but it wasn't affecting her concentration. She closed her eyes tightly and began to call upon the mists. Slowly, she raised her hand from her pocket and held the blade up.

'What are you doing?' he growled.

She couldn't speak now, but she didn't need to. She commanded the mists with her mind.

Show him. Go on, just show him. It doesn't matter if I die, as long as he knows.

'Stop it, you little bitch,' he barked. 'Cut it out.' He yanked on the tie now and she gulped a little as her head started to feel lighter.

Ebony was coaxing blackness out of him like it was a frightened pet. She beckoned it gently, trying not to tease it. His arm moved from her middle and he grabbed the knife from her hand, hurling it across the room. It was only a backup weapon. Something told her losing it would be of no consequence if she kept concentrating on the mists. Her hands instinctively stayed at her throat, but she didn't try to pull the tie from her neck.

That's it...

'No, you don't,' he snarled as more spittle hit her cheek. 'Just. Give. Up...' He brought her to her knees with him to add strength to his grapple.

As Ebony opened her mouth to take her final breath, the world around her went black.

Connor was screaming. His hatred and rage were before him now. She let her eyes open to it, finding it almost beautiful. Forms wailed and howled around her and she watched them, peacefully. While the forms were causing a new madness in Connor, Ebony was almost lulled by them. This was true ugliness; the true guise of bitterness, regret, shame and fury. She remembered the myth of Pandora's box, now feeling a kinship with the evil in front of her. It had to be done. It was meant to be.

This isn't meant to last...

She saw Josie's mournful face.

'Why did you leave me, Connor?' Her voice sounded like it was coming straight from the bottom of Hell. It was mournful and it echoed her betrayal.

'You wouldn't come with me,' he wept. 'You wanted to stay. For him.'

Josie's mouth opened to scream at Connor, her nose inches from Ebony's face.

The mists swelled out further and further, filling the whole room. Ebony could just make out the cold blue sky between the wisps of blackness. There was a strange creaking noise, as if something was expanding, then windows suddenly exploded out into the air. The mists formed hands that grabbed the pieces and shot them back into the room.

She covered her eyes with her arms as glass rained down her and Connor. Ebony felt the shards cutting her skin, the resultant sting of each cut bringing her round. Connor was being cut savagely. He'd let her go to shield himself.

A shard much bigger than the others flew at her, causing her to duck. Connor cried out as she lowered her arms to see the shard sticking out of his neck. Glass continued to tinkle down around them. Ebony was calm, finding her breath at last as she stood

As Connor knelt on the floor, groaning in pain, Ebony glanced up to see Patrick, Melinda and Myra standing in the doorway, looking completely horrified.

Chapter 13

When they arrived in the reception area of Connor's office, Patrick felt his panic take him over. He struggled to maintain a calm exterior while Melinda tried to reassure him that nothing could be wrong.

'Did that girl I was in here with the other day come by?' he asked at the reception desk.

'Yeah,' the receptionist said, rather unprofessionally. 'She's in Mr Riley's office. But he's asked me not to buzz him right now.'

Patrick took off towards his office against the shouted wishes of the receptionist, bumping into another well-dressed man on the way.

'What's the hurry, sir?' the man asked.

'I'm looking for Ebony, Connor's niece.'

'Oh sure, lovely girl. She's in with him at the moment, but I'm sure he won't mind if you knock on his door.'

Patrick found the office and started knocking. There were weird creaking noises coming from inside. He twisted the door handle and found it locked.

'Does he normally lock this?' Patrick asked the man, getting flustered.

'No, not unless he's out. What's going on?'

'Ebony!' Patrick shouted.

'Can you let us in?' Melinda asked, her tone only now starting to expose her alarm.

The man moved away from them, perturbed as he was confused. 'I'll see if there's a key at reception.'

'Please,' Melinda begged.

He heard the sound of glass shattering, terrified Connor had pushed Ebony out the window.

'Oh, screw this,' Patrick moaned, his panic at a peak. He'd never had to perform an act of bravado before, so he hoped he had enough adrenaline to pull it off. Putting his hands either side of the door, he rammed his foot against the wood. It buckled but didn't break. On his second attempt, the door slapped back.

A massive gust of wind hit his skin, and something else seemed to be suspended in the air outside the windows.

'Patrick!' Melinda pulled him to the floor just as a flurry of glass shot through the doorway.

Myra let out a scream as the other man snatched her away from the door. Patrick raised his back to the onslaught. He felt dozens of tiny pieces hit the back of his scalp and the floor became littered with twinkling pebbles of glass. Patrick told Myra not to move.

As he gradually stood and turned, he saw Ebony there in the middle of the room, raising herself over Connor's hunched and bleeding form. She was gasping for air and her neck was badly bruised.

Patrick walked across the carpet of broken glass. The wind collected the papers off Connor's desk and carried them out of the building across the city. Ebony was almost looming over Connor, who had his hands over his head like she was about to strike him.

'Please,' he sobbed. 'Please...'

'I think you better call an ambulance,' she shouted over the wind. 'He's bleeding pretty bad.'

'What the hell happened here?' Patrick yelled back.

Ebony didn't answer. He watched her standing there as she stared at her uncle, the wind whipping her hair around her face. She looked older, more defiant — no longer wrought with anger. He knew she had broken the windows, but the how of it would always be a mystery. She never spoke of that moment to him, and he never asked.

Melinda remained in the doorway, now holding Myra. The other man returned once more, this time with several other people who were crowding the door to see what had happened. Ebony bent down before Connor.

'I need to get that glass out of your neck, Connor,' she said to him with more compassion than he deserved.

He cried out in pain when she gently pulled the large shard from his neck. Patrick gasped as the blood beat out of Connor in small bursts. Ebony grabbed Connor's handkerchief from his breast pocket and put it to the wound, making him hold it there. Looking closer, Patrick saw the tiny scratches on Ebony's hands.

She grabbed her backpack and helped Connor to his feet, walking slowly as he staggered to the doorway with her aid. Somehow, Ebony managed to close the door on the office despite the broken lock.

Patrick went to Melinda and his terrified daughter. Mel was crying softly, watching Ebony with a terrible remorse.

The paramedics arrived and bandaged the worst of Connor's wounds. He sat on the gurney, his palm against his neck, clearly afraid the bandage wasn't enough to stop the bleeding. One medic told him had the gash been any bigger, his jugular would have been torn beyond repair.

'So now what?' Connor asked Ebony. His pitiful sobbing had ceased as his injuries were being tended to.

'It's over. At least, it is between us. We'll leave each other alone. You go on with your life, me with mine, such as it is.'

'You're not going to say anything?'

'No, I'll leave you to your own conscience. I didn't know if I was going to walk away from here today, but I still chose to come. That's all I have to live with now. My choices.'

'Try to make the right ones from now on,' he warned.

'Speak for yourself,' she muttered.

Patrick watched this conversation at a respectful distance. She refused assistance for her wounds from the paramedics, saying they were only small cuts. When they wheeled Connor away, Patrick finally approached Ebony.

'We better go home,' he said, absolutely spent from the shock of it all.

Melinda tentatively came to their side. Patrick wasn't sure what to think of her at that moment. However innocent the call to Connor might have seemed at the time, he couldn't help but suspect her intentions weren't completely benign.

She was looking at the bruises on Ebony's neck. 'I'm so sorry,' Melinda whispered.

Patrick held his breath. It would be one thing for Ebony to forgive her, but now there was a side to his wife he wasn't sure how to take. The warmth and kindness he'd known from her stood in the huge shadows of her envy and spite.

Ebony smiled weakly. 'You wanted to protect what's yours. I just hope you realise now I have no intention of taking anything from you. I never did.'

'I am never going to live this down, Ebony. I honestly thought...'

'That he would be kind to me?'

Melinda had the face of a guilt-ridden child. 'Yes.'

'But more of you just wanted to see me gone,' Ebony said. 'So much you were willing to ignore what Patrick told you.'

'I swear I didn't know when I called Connor,' Melinda murmured with her eyes cast down. 'But that's no excuse. There's nothing I can do to take this back.' Raising her eyes to meet Patrick's, he saw she was pleading with him for forgiveness. 'Is there?'

'I don't know, Mel,' he said solemnly.

'So what happens now?' Melinda didn't just mean for the three of them. Patrick knew that.

Ebony went to Myra and took her hand. 'I need you guys to help me burn down my grandmother's house.'

They needed an exorcism, a grand finale. Ebony could soak the walls with alcohol, ring little bells and bang drums, all while making a complete ass of herself trying to drive Freya's spirit from the house, or she could burn the piece of shit to the ground. Georgia had the right idea.

Given Philip had been gone for more than seven years, the legalities meant he was considered deceased, so the house really didn't belong to anyone.

Dusk was moving over Huntsville when they returned. A station out of town supplied them with enough gasoline for a week of campfires. She still had her little cigarette lighter as well. She only hoped the wood on the outside of the house wasn't damp enough to quell the flames.

Melinda kept Myra a safe distance from the house while Ebony and Patrick went to work soaking everything they could. She started with her crib, liberally dousing the wood, then went to Freya's room and casually tossed the gasoline over the bedspread.

Freya was absent for the ritual, disappointing Ebony greatly.

In the front room, she covered the curtains, tipping the last of her can over the old chair the moment Patrick found her.

'I didn't think we'd ever commit a crime together,' he said dryly. 'Who'd have thought it would be arson?'

This tickled Ebony. 'No one's going to stop us. Whether Freya screwed them or not, they still need closure.'

'So do you. Do you think you got it?'

Ebony made a shrug and tossed the empty can aside. 'I don't know. I guess I don't feel so awful anymore. I just pity them now. What if Josie had just loved me instead of allowing all those nightmares to destroy her? She must have had a choice.'

'I'm sure she wanted to love you, Ebony.'

'It doesn't matter now.' She gave him a look before she said, 'You have to forgive Melinda.'

Patrick avoided her stare. 'I don't know what we're going to do.'

'You're going to forgive each other, that's what. She's going to forgive you for giving up all this time for me and nearly sacrificing your sanity to prove a point. Then you're going to forgive her for calling Connor. Then you'll have make-up sex and a bunch more kids and grow old together, becoming total clichés.'

Her comment seemed to lighten his mood. She kicked over the chair and screwed off one of the legs, using the rest of Patrick's can to soak one end.

'Are you sure no one wants this place?' he asked.

'Ghosts and suicides really do screw with the resale value on a property, Patrick. If my dad wanted it so badly, he would have come back for it. And for Josie.'

'Why don't you look for him?'

'Connor didn't want to be found, and I'm guessing neither does he. So I won't waste my time looking.'

Patrick moved towards the front door. 'Don't take too long. I want to get home sometime before tomorrow.'

She nodded and he left her alone. Keeping the front door open to allow for an easy exit, she took the chair leg and her lighter to Freya's room where she held the small flame to the wood until it caught, giving her a decent torch.

'Game over, Freya.'

Lowering the torch to the bedspread, she leapt back from the resultant burst of flames, hoping there'd be a cackle or a scream, and hearing nothing but the sharp cracking of breaking wood.

Ebony backed out to go to her crib. Touching the frame lightly to the bars, she watched the fire slowly eat the wood. Then she let her torch kiss every place she could. The sodden wallpaper still managed to carry the fire around the walls. Before she ran out of time, she put the torch to the lace curtains in the front room.

With the fire growing around her, Ebony took out the photographs and dumped them unceremoniously onto a patch of flames beneath the window.

Smoke was swirling everywhere, blocking her view of her exit. The house had accepted the fire much easier than she'd anticipated. For a moment, Ebony felt perfectly calm. She considered just sitting on the floor of the front room and waiting for the smoke to consume her.

She could end it all there; the legacy, the curse, whatever the hell it was. The house could be her tomb. The smoke assaulted her eyes and brought tears as she began gasping. Just then, a strange epiphany overwhelmed her. She'd been holding on to her life all this time now because she truly didn't want to die. While she had nothing to really live for now, death didn't seem like such pretty or easy option anymore.

The ceiling was creaking. Ebony walked quickly to the front door right before the roof collapsed behind her. Outside on the lawn, her audience was waiting. Another beam behind her toppled into the hallway.

All of Huntsville had come to see the pyre. Georgia was there, watching the smoke for any sign of Freya. Patrick ran to Ebony and pulled her from the porch steps as she spluttered and gasped.

'What the hell were you still doing in there?' he shouted. 'I was a second away from going in to get you.'

'I'm sorry,' she coughed.

Sirens were wailing somewhere nearby and she began to panic.

'No, they can't put it out,' she croaked.

Georgia heard her. 'It's alright, Ebony,' she said. Ebony thought she saw something akin to forgiveness in the woman's tired eyes. 'We're keeping an eye on it. You won't burn the whole town.'

Patrick held Ebony by her shoulders and together they quietly watched the flames.

A gas tank in the cellar suddenly exploded. Melinda covered Myra protectively and everyone backed out into the middle of the street. As the sirens came closer, Patrick guided Ebony back to the car.

Melinda started fussing over Ebony. 'She's inhaled too much smoke.'

'I'm okay,' she spluttered. She chose to accept Melinda's kindness. It was her decision whether or not to resent Melinda. Now she found forgiveness felt far less exhausting than hate.

'We better go.' Patrick started up the car and moved them in the opposite direction of the approaching fire trucks.

'Do you think someone will call the cops?' Melinda asked.

'I only did what they all wanted to do all along,' Ebony said as she watched from the back window. She just managed to see the house begin to fall in on itself.

'Are we going home now?' Myra whined. She was gripping on to her pony tightly, more exhausted than the rest of them.

So much of Ebony hated that Myra had been dragged into her stupid life, with all the monstrosities it contained. She loved Myra, but she wasn't sure how much she wanted to be in the girl's life now. None of what happened to Ebony would have made any sense to Myra. She'd one day tell her friends she knew a strange girl who burned a house down and filled a room with glass, but wouldn't be able to explain why it happened.

Ebony decided at that moment that this didn't matter. Myra had the luxury of being at an age where memories would be most likely be confused with dreams, and Patrick could answer any questions later if need be. She smiled, gently stroking Myra's hair so she wouldn't cover her in soot.

'We're going home now.'

Chapter 14

Patrick pulled into his driveway just after one a.m. The three girls slept while he was still hardwired from the torching and the panic.

He'd considered everything on the way; his parents and his child, as well as his future... and Melinda. He thought about clichés and how nice it would be to live one. He didn't want to lose Melinda as much as he didn't want her to resent him anymore. Though he smiled when he realised Dora had been wrong, that Ebony had done more to bring him and Melinda closer than drive them apart.

He stirred Melinda awake. She still seemed pensive and distant.

'How about I make you some hot chocolate?' he said. 'We can unpack the car tomorrow.'

She smiled sleepily, and his heart finally softened. Patrick couldn't bring himself to hate her.

'That would be nice,' she mumbled, 'but I don't think I could stay awake that long.'

Ebony woke up and helped get Myra into the house, giving her to Melinda to take upstairs to bed. She then collapsed on the couch and Patrick didn't care she was covering the fabric with soot. He doubted Mel would, either.

'Did you want to take a shower?' he asked Ebony. 'You still smell of smoke. It'll make it harder for you to sleep.'

'It's fine. I could sleep in the dirt right now. I don't know if I've ever felt this tired before.'

He took out some blankets from the linen closet and helped lay her down, kneeling beside her as she nestled into the cushions. 'Are you going to be okay?'

She laughed softly. He figured the notion of being okay amused her. 'I think so.'

Without any guilt or worry, he planted a small kiss on her temple and stroked her hair a while. It was clear to Patrick the affection he felt for her was completely benign. Whatever spell she cast that he thought would ruin him vanished as he watched her fall asleep.

He knew she didn't absolutely need him, not in the way he thought she did, and now he could let her go at last, along with his own misery. That wouldn't have happened had he not found her and helped her. He would always be there for her, but their story, however twisted and dark it had gotten, was finally over.

'Goodnight, Ebony.'

'Patrick?' she murmured as her eyes opened.

'Yeah?'

'Shouldn't you be doing this for your actual daughter right now?'

He smirked and got up. 'Just go to sleep, would you.'

Upstairs, Melinda was standing beside Myra's bed, almost refusing to touch her own daughter. She was obviously still conflicted when Patrick went to her.

'I should have gone with you to meet Connor,' she said. 'Then I would have known...'

'Don't. It's not worth it.' He held her from behind and she softened in his grasp.

'I only wanted her to leave us alone. I didn't want her dead, Patrick.'

'Of course you didn't, Mel. I know that.'

'Is it true? Did her mother really try to kill her?'

Patrick sighed. 'It's a lot more complicated than that. Whatever she is, she's still a child. And she's not just an orphan anymore. She's all that's left of her kind, whatever the hell that is.'

'I could never imagine hurting our daughter.'

Patrick moved from Melinda and bent down to kiss Myra's cheek. He decided he was going to leave his job if he wasn't fired already. He knew his level of neglect could turn Myra so wayward and heartbroken that her innocence would quickly depart. He wondered if she would remember this time with Ebony, hoping more that she wouldn't. He stroked her hair as Melinda sank down beside him and began to weep.

'What's wrong, Mel?'

'Nothing. I just... I can't lose you, Patrick. Or Myra. I won't be able to cope without you.'

Patrick laughed gently and hugged her, saying what his father should have said to him and Ursula instead of choosing to leave them forever.

'I'm not going anywhere.'

There was still some smoke in Ebony's lungs when she woke the next morning, trying to cough quietly so no one would come down. She knew it wasn't polite to go without saying goodbye, but moreover, she wanted Patrick to just sleep. He and Melinda were home with Myra. Things felt like they were in their right place for once.

Well, almost.

She took the notepad from beside the couch and tapped the pen she found to her lip a moment before writing.

Patrick, I promise I won't steal anymore if you promise not to let Melinda beat herself up. Tell Myra I'll be by to see her sometime. Catch you 'round, I guess. Eb.

She left the note on the coffee table and slipped out the front door, slinging her bag over her shoulder.

Ebony was going home, at least to get a few more things. She was hoping not to run into Eliza. Passing Shane Michelson's office, she saw it was now up for rent. She smirked before she took out the last of his money and dropped the petty cash tin carelessly on the ground.

Taking a detour home, she strolled through the new estates. A few more shells were up, but she didn't want to go inside any of them. The sky was patchy and she tried taking a few more deep breaths so the smoke in her lungs would clear. Cigarettes would be off the cards for a while. Maybe forever. If she'd chosen not to die, risking cancer made a lot less sense now.

She was surprised Nicholas's car was parked out front when she got home. Ebony hesitated, questioning if he'd be happy to even see her. She considered running except she needed more clothes. That was if Eliza hadn't thrown them all away.

Feeling like a total idiot, Ebony went to the front door and knocked, accepting the role and manners of a stranger. Nicholas opened the door before she could bolt.

His shock was a bigger surprise to her.

'Ebony, I didn't think I'd see you again.'

'I just wanted to get some things, then I'll go.'

He smiled. 'You don't have to go anywhere.'

'Are you sure?'

Nicholas laughed at this. 'Ebony, I wasn't leaving you, I was leaving Eliza. Besides, she was going to leave me anyway. She ran off with that shrink of yours. C'mon, it's cold, get inside.'

She followed him into the kitchen.

'You look filthy,' he said. 'What happened?'

'It's a fucking long story,' she muttered. 'When did you get back?'

'As soon as I knew you'd left. When Eliza said you'd probably taken off for Huntsville, I decided to see if you would come back. I've been waiting here for you.'

'Why?' she asked, dumping her bag on the hallway floor, a habit she displayed that he hadn't been able to abide. As soon as she remembered, she picked it up and carried it with her.

He smiled again. 'You're my daughter. I thought about everything, how I've failed you for so long. I was hoping you'd consider giving me a second chance.'

She sat up at the kitchen bench. 'It's alright,' she said. 'You don't owe me anything.'

Nicholas appeared pained by this. 'I don't think you understand. I agreed to take care of you from the day I found you. Ever since you were nearly shot by that boy, I've felt like I've done nothing to protect you. I've just kept running from my agreement and my responsibilities. I don't want to do that anymore. I don't want to be the one who fails you in the end.'

'But you don't love me, Nicholas. You never have. I'm not your daughter.'

'You're wrong, Eb. I've missed you while you're gone. And I loved you as a little girl. I still love you now.'

Her throat closed over and her eyes were stinging again.

'If you don't want me to care for you anymore, I'll understand. I'm sorry I've been so distant and so quick to blame you for my shortcomings. I just want you to give me another chance to take care of you.'

The moment felt strange, much like when Patrick had held her as she cried. Ebony was so accustomed to harbouring resentment for herself and everyone, she'd never considered what it was like to be loved. If she opened herself to it, it could betray her. But then again, it could also heal her.

She wanted to be healed. Maybe that was the way Freya's legacy would come undone.

'You want a do-over?' Ebony asked.

'If it's not too late.'

'Sure,' she shrugged casually.

He sighed as he chuckled at her. 'I can make you some breakfast.'

She tried not to burst out laughing. 'You haven't made me breakfast since I was five.'

'Well, I figure if I'm going to call myself a dad then I should do things like that more often.'

As Nicholas turned his back to get some things from the cupboard, Ebony wiped a couple of pathetic little tears from her eyes and smiled.
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