Thicker Than Water....

Chapter 5 - Interloper

I made the excuse that I had to return to the cottage to await Ian's call about the funerals.  I just couldn't face Kula's probing looks.  I knew that she meant me no harm, but it made me feel uncomfortable.

Furthermore, to my inner shame and incomprehensible fascination, I found myself wanting.  I craved to see that angelic face from my nightmare.  Fangs and all.  How could this be?  He had utterly terrified me when he'd smiled.  Maybe I was becoming unhinged? Completely lost you marbles, Baby Si injected. I tutted disgust.   Perhaps a brief stay in a psychiatric institute in some distant city might be what I needed though?.  No.  I didn't want that.  Of course I didn't!  I just prayed it wasn't going to turn into another horrible reality though.

As I pottered about the cottage, tidying up, I found my thoughts constantly drifting back to the emerald-eyed .....what? Angel? Demon?  All these years I had dreaded sleep.  For with it came the night-terrors.  And here I was.  After countless sessions with various professionals to stem those dreams, I was now half-yearning for them. 

Is this the kind of thing that happened to you when you lost loved ones?  Did you start to cling to the most unlikely forms of solace?  I was absent-mindedly clearing out the under stairs cupboard when I knocked over a box, spilling its contents on the floor.  I cursed under my breath.  Travel brochures and holiday guides were strewn at my feet.  I bent down and started collecting them, throwing them randomly back into the box. I found myself saying each one as I put it back in. "France, Portugal, Greece, The Canary Islands, USA, Canada, Singapore, Egypt."  There were so many.  All places I had been with my parents.  Except one.  I halted as I picked it up. "Italy," I whispered.  How odd, I thought.  So many places, most of which were common destinations for the British tourist, yet here was one of the most common and I had never been there.

I opened it, to see what I'd perhaps missed.  Pictures of vineyards, and breath-taking mountains drifted before my eyes. Rome, the Colosseum and the Arco di Constantino, Vatican City and the Sistine Chapel adorned with Michelangelo's exquisite ceiling paintings.  It all looked so beautiful.  I continued to flick through as the photos revealed picturesque litlle villages, majestic castles and chapels.    Surrounding landscapes  lush and green. 

A polaroid photo slipped from the pages, landing face down.  I reckoned it had a special meaning for my parents and turned it over have a look.  It was a forest, beautiful and tranquil.  I stared at it for a long time.  My stomach knotted.  It was familiar.  No!  Forests looked the same all over the world. Didin't they?  I turned the photo over again to see if there was any clue to the location. 'Marsico Nuovo, 1986'. 

The year I was born! 

Why did this feel significant?  I was placing it back inside the book when - "We need to talk, sista." Kula's soft voice at my side startled me so, that I dropped the guide and the photo again. 

   "Goddammit, Kula! You scared the crap out of me!"

   "Uh-uh-uh," she said wagging a disciplinary finger at me.  "No profanity, Sienna.  It does not become you.  Nor any young lady, for that matta."

I scooped up the brochure and put it aside from the others. 

   "Dontcha be hiding not'ing from me, girl," she said, eyeing my new found treasure.

   "What you doing here?" I asked, a little more harshly than intended.

   "Ooh!" she mocked, with a smile. "Fiesty lttle t'ing today, huh?"

I huffed, but gave in to a smile as well.  "Sorry," I offered.

   "No problem.  I'm sorry to have frightened you. I should have knocked."  She wandered into the sitting room, surveying the area with appreciative eyes.  "Your parents, they did a good job with this."

   "Thanks."  I followed her through.  "Want a coffee?"

   "No. Thank you.  I would prefer a cool drink, if you have one?"

   "Sure."  I went through to the kitchen and swung open the fridge door.  "Tropical do you?"

   "But of course," she replied, mirthfully.

I poured us both a drink and rejoined her in the sitting room, where she sat, arms stretched out over the back of the sofa.  I handed her her drink.  We both took a sip, and simultaneously placed our glasses on the coffee table.  Moments passed.

   "You left this morning in a hurry," she said, watching my reaction.  "As if the devil himself were after you."

My eyes widened.  "Ahh," she said, leaning towards me.  "So, it is true, huh?"

  "Wh-what's true?"

  "The man in your dream, last night.  The angelic-looking one."

My jaw fell open.