Trying To Heal

Chapter Three

SONG: Adele - Skyfall

❀

Derek Matthews

Cyril drowsing overnight is interchangeable with a goblin king feeding on monster rats. Not knowing when he is to leave is ruinous. The grand entryways of the Manor bleat, more thunderous than normal, ghosts shrieking at him to leave their residence — at least, that is how I expect this edifice to behave if it had a mind of its own.

Luke's ego is tolerable. I wonder if the other Allfathers are arrogant, or maybe that is my bitter sense. I loathe titles. It has done more harm than good.

I told Cyril that if we are to have a conference then Penny and her family and Xavier should be present. The more the merrier to fight. I do not trust Xavier's parents, especially regarding Halia. He returned from Hawaii last week.

Penny's parents are good people.

Sunday is here. As my family attended mass, including the Staff, the doorbell resounded in the corridors. Opening the luxurious, mahogany, heavy doors, Xavier Vincent Everston grins. He is dressed in a green halter-neck sweater, ironed brown trousers, and a trench coat; his left wrist clasped with a thousand-pound Rolex; perfusing an odour of pine trees as if he snuggled in the very ones engaging the Tate Manor's territory.

"So, Cyril is here?"

"The dogs growled at him," replies Tanner.

Xavier glances at the Dobermans. "We cannot trust him."

"He gave me a palm reading."

"Palm reading?" Comprehension washes Xavier's expression. "Ah, his mother was a Romani." He observes my sour face, nudging my shoulder. "I take it you love him, cousin."

"He is acting as if he owns the place. Before you say he is a fucking Allfather, that is no excuse. Gareth was informed late. The Staff did not have time to prepare." Even when we helped them. It is like a landlord suddenly visiting his house without further notice.

Outside, a few deers throttle the cold grass, finding the seeds we scattered seconds ago. A baby deer approaches the garden doors, inquisitive and jerking back as Tanner slides it open, beckoning it to come in for warmth.

Xavier sips his damn mocha. I watch the little deer, speckled with white spots, shyly stepping into the kitchen. "How is April?"

I raise my coffee to my lips as Tanner responds, "She is not waking up."

"Let her sleep. She deserves a good rest." He flickers to me, no doubt recalling the constant calls we shared whilst I was in the apartment. "She will be fine—"

"Is there something else we can talk about?" It is too harrowing to let alone think about her. "Will you inform Cyril of your situation with Halia, or has it been dealt with?"

He indulges in a minute of staring at me, highlighting the difference I discerned earlier today in the mirror. I did not sleep properly for the past week. I could not even read my books. My routine at the gym is breaking. "My parents are still surly. They are not ready for the conversation that poverty and race cannot hinder a marriage."

"Be with Halia, Xavier. You do not require an Allfather's permission for anything."

"I could lose my money."

"We will lend you some," promises Tanner. "Besides, it is not like you do not know how to make money. We have been taught the basics since childhood."

"The thing is, I do not desire Everston crap."