You Can't Handle the Truth - Chapter 5
Here we go again! This and Ch. 6 should be up tonight, maybe 7 ;)
Henry breezed into the office a few hours after dark. His wine coloured silk shirt and black suit indicated he had been out.
“Hey, Henry…”Coreen glanced up from the book she was leafing through only for a moment.
“How is she, Coreen?”
“Not good…” She began to whisper. “She got angry and made a vase explode today…”
Vicki strolled into the outer office, carrying a closed book.
“Vicki! How are you feeling?” Henry’s expression hid none of the concern he felt for her.
“Fine. Not that you were too bothered about me. Had an itch that needed scratching first?” She slammed the book onto Coreen’s desk, and glared accusingly at him for a moment before frustration took the place of anger on her soft features. She turned on her heel and walked quickly back out of the room.
Henry and Coreen exchanged glances before Henry went after her. She had gone into her own office and he found her lying on her side on the pull-out bed, turned away from the door.
“Go away, Henry, please…” She had tried to hide the fact she was crying, but Henry could have heard it in her voice even if he hadn’t had vampire hearing.
He walked over to the bed and she felt him sit at the end of it.
“I know you’re worried about me. And that you had to feed before you came…I’m so sorry…”
“It’s alright. I came as soon as I could…” He would talk to her about her reaction to his feeding later - he wanted her to talk to him about it willingly, not like this. “What happened earlier today?”
She sighed, remembering the argument, the vase, Mike walking out…God she felt so alone in this…She tried desperately not to think it, tried to push the thought back down into the abyss, but it was too late. She knew that there was no way now to stop herself from saying it. Even as the words came out the little voice in her mind that got overruled when…whatever it was forced her to speak said ‘NO!’ But her mouth wasn’t doing what that voice told it to. It was busy.
“Will you hold me?”
He didn’t even hesitate. He crawled up the bed until her head was level with his chest. His hand gently reached around to turn her, and she rolled over to rest her head on his chest, cradled in one arm. Suddenly, she felt exquisitely happy.
“Mike came by today. We had an argument.” As suddenly as it had come, the peaceful feeling faded, replaced by something akin to frustration.
“Why?”
“I blurted something…well, a few things out and he got mad. Then I felt this weird sort of…build-up of anger and the vase smashed.”
“I see…” He stroked her hair, trying in some small way to comfort her.
Coreen wanted to cry. She had no idea how to fix this - it had all gone so horribly wrong. She glanced toward her bag, wondering if she should just own up to it all, show Henry and Vicki the spell, and then maybe everything would be ok…except for the fact that they’d probably never forgive her…But Vicki was getting hurt because of this whole thing…just then she remembered Henry saying that Vicki’s mind was being interfered with. Interfered with - not helped. She was so lost in all this - all she had wanted was to help Vicki but instead she had hurt her. She grabbed her bag and pulled the book out, opening it on the page with the spell. Just then she heard Vicki and Henry coming back. She panicked, wondering if she should put the book away again. It was too late - Henry had spotted it.
“What is that?” He sounded angry. She bet he could sense something off it.
“It’s…uh…something I found…”
“Show me.” She handed the book over, still open on the page with the spell. He read through it carefully, his expression solemn. “This is it. This is what happened to you.”
“What does it say?” Vicki was making her way over to get a look at it too.
“It’s a spell. It’s supposed to force the person to admit their thoughts and desires, to show what they’re really thinking and feeling. In essence it’s a form of mind control…” Vicki noticed Henry’s expression - the beast in him was close to the surface, and she could tell that he was fighting to keep control of himself. She wasn’t afraid of him - but she almost felt sorry for whoever the hell had done this. Almost.