Chapter 35: Chapter 35

The sea churns with its dormant strength. The flowing of the tide is languorous, forging its own sea-song.

Jada Ballo is at the marina, overseeing the collection and transfer of fresh fish brought in by the tide. She walks along the docks teeming with different kinds of fishing boats.

One of the commercial fishing boats, whose service she leases, is tied up at a pier, and her food truck is out front, ready to deliver the ocean-fresh cargo to her restaurant.

“Mrs. Ballo.”

“Mr. Samuels, how many times do I have to tell you to call me Jada?”

“As many times as I have told you to call me Patrick,” he says with a bright smile, reeking of fish.

She nods ruefully, mirroring his grin. “My apologies, Captain Patrick.”

“You’ll be happy with the haul we brought in today,” he says with an impressed whistle and a self-satisfied smile. “Thank the seas.”

Patrick retreats to direct foot traffic, helping his employees unload the cargo from the ship and heading to deposit it to the back of the open truck, as they always do.

Jada watches as they walk off two by two, carrying a load by pairs. The sea exhales a breath of brine. The murmuring of the waves is hypnotic, the winds carrying a salt-scented fragrance and a sound.

Jada becomes still. A chorus of whispers waft to her ears, hushed but growing in intensity.

A vacant look enters her eyes, a glaze over her gaze.

She swivels around torpidly, with the marina to her back and other ships on her flanks. She walks on dazedly.

The tree line of the forest is just across the thick body of water. Jada stalks down the pier until she reaches the cusp, controlled by one command.

~Come~.

Patrick and the others return to retrieve another load, but he comes to standstill once he sees her. His eyes narrow with concerned curiosity, his mind reassuring him that she’s probably admiring the scenery.

Jada falls numbly, collapsing into the water. Shock steals a breath and he launches into a sprint, unzipping his heavy windbreaker and tossing it behind him, the others clinging to his shadow, equally bewildered.

When he’s close enough, he leaps off the edge and dives into the water, hands and head first. The cold hits him like a wall of ice, innumerable needles piercing his flesh.

Patrick swims deeper, spotting Jada’s unconscious figure instantly. He makes his way to her and latches onto her arm, reeling her body to his and drawing both of them back to the surface.

Patrick sucks in a sharp breath and Jada’s head lolls to the side. He lifts his hand to fix the back of her head on his shoulder with his hand on her forehead, her face turned skyward, resting against him.

“Call an ambulance!”

***

Akin rushes into the atrium of the hospital in a frenzy.

His father is by the front desk waiting for him. When he sees Akin, he darts in front of him like he’s impeding the path of a wild mustang, his arms outstretched. He latches onto Akin to stop him and focus his attention on him.

Tension drains from his shoulders and he becomes occupied to one spot, no longer floundering in panic.

Akin forces himself to look into the same onyx eyes overflowing with shared worry. His concave cheekbones rest on skin pulled tight like a bolt of fine cloth.

“She’s fine.”

“She’s fine?” he says so he can hear it.

“She’s fine,” his father repeats, giving him the solace he needs. “More than fine. The nurse told me that they were informed that she slipped off the pier but sustained no head injuries.

“They’re just doing a precautionary check just in case. She doesn’t even have so much as a scratch on her.”

Once his fear is quashed, the fervor fades for his ire to claim his senses. Akin backs away a step so his father’s hands fall from him.

“I’m surprised you’re here, then. Sure there’s no board meeting you have to go to?”

Hurt flashes in his eyes, brows crunching together. “That’s not fair, Akee.”

Akin looks away, nodding, smiling scathingly. “There are a lot things that’s not fair.”

He meets his father’s eye brazenly, not wanting to speak any more of it. “Where is she?”

Conceding to the diversion, he directs him to the elevators. They walk down the immaculate corridor, passing men and woman draped in white long coats, comparing evaluations as they walk side by side.

A mother and her daughter exit an elevator just as Akin and his father enter.

As they doors glide close, a hand shoots in the narrow gap.

The doors retract to reveal a feverish Aries, a mania swirling in his eyes, so distraught he doesn’t even notice Akin. He steps inside and presses a button repeatedly.

“Aries?”

His eyes snap back to Akin. The doors close.

“What are you doing here?”

“There was an incident with my mom, but she’s okay. And you?”

“My brother,” he says at the same volume as his unsteady breaths. Louder, he says, “Calum, he got hurt this morning. But I was so wrapped up, I only heard about it now.”

Akin aligns himself with him and puts his hand on his shoulder. “You’re here now.”

He jerks his shoulder away. “Your mom and my brother just happened to save an accident on the same day?” he says in a skeptical voice.

Aries radiates anger, infecting Akin as he shoves his hands in his pocket, looking forward.

“Strange coincidence, huh?”

“Very,” Aries agrees solemnly, eyes burning with silent ferocity.

Mr. Ballo clears his throat.

“Aries”—Akin chucks an apathetic hand at his father—"my dad.”

Mr. Ballo extends a courteous hand. “Nice to see you again, son.”

The elevator door dings open. Aries sends him a brusque nod from over his shoulder and hurries out. He follows the directions his grandma Adeline gave him.

Shortly he arrives in the open doorway of a private hospital room. Adeline rises slowly in a way that shows her age.

Aries’s chest rises and falls erratically. His eyes are fixed on Calum’s broken leg in a plaster cast, suspended at heart-level.

“Aries…”

“Who did this?” he says with lethal calm.

Their grandmother squeezes Calum’s hand affectionately before she excuses herself. She takes Aries by the waist and steers him out of the room, and she closes the door behind her.

Aries turns his back on her for a sweltering moment, unable to see anything past the red haze, rage casting out all reason.

“Who did that to him?”

“I get why you think that,” she says, failing to surrender her scrutiny. “But no one hurt him. I even checked in with the parents of the kids he was with at school.

“He fell off a tree, Ari. That’s how he broke his leg. Severe fractures, they say. He won’t be able to bear weight on his leg for as long as six weeks. And he will need crutches. The doctors dumped me with a whole list of costs—”

“I don’t care about that. You know I’ll take care of it.”

The judgment in her eyes melts the last of his composure.

“What?” he snaps.

“Is there a reason you thought someone went after him?”

“You know this line of work,” he answers with flat, emotionless eyes.

She nods many times. “I also know Haru was feared and no one would dare go for him by going for his family. And I know that fear extends to you.”

Aries releases a deep breath, trying to summon his calm.

“There was a problem with a new and ambitious organization. I made it very clear who owns these lands. My men are lookin’ out, they’re wary of a retaliation. I thought this was it.”

Adeline subdues her anger, her one hand on her waist, the other near her lips, aghast.

“Aries, I can’t believe you didn’t tell me—tell me that we are in danger.”

“~You~ are never in danger.” He comes closer to her. “My men are watchin’ me, now they watchin’ you. I promise you, just like he promised you. ~Anata wa itsumo watashitoisshoni anzendesu~.”

She smiles slightly. “My Japanese is a bit rusty, mind translating for me?”

“You heard what I said.”

Aries breezes past her and opens the door wide, going over to Calum’s side and engulfing him in an embrace, bringing him into his arms. Calum holds onto him wordlessly.

Aries’s ringed fingers stroke through his velvet-soft strands, lulling Calum into complete, comforting serenity. Adeline comes back in and watches, warmth filling her heart at the soul-soothing sight.

“You okay?” Calum asks sweetly.

Aries chuckles, a deep reverberation vibrating through Calum’s small limbs.

“Your leg is busted and you askin’ about me?”

“You seemed upset.”

“I can handle a lot of pain, I can’t handle seeing you hurt. How did you get hurt?”

“I don’t know,” he answers with confusion. “I was just climbing up a tree I always climb. This time it broke, and I fell.”

“Were you the only one?”

“No, I was with my friends and they were on the tree with me. Only my branch broke.”

“Where was this tree?”

“Big one at the back of the field.”

~The Great Oak~.

Aries nods exaggeratedly, his eyes straying to the flat screen mounted on the wall. “You get channels on here?”

“Only the boring ones.”

“Can’t have you stuck with boring stuff. I think it’s time to get you a laptop.”

Calum perks up, slipping from his grasp to look back at him with cartoon eyes. “Really?”

“How else are you gonna watch Netflix?”

“Can I get a MacBook?”

Aries frowns at the outrageous request. “When you’re old enough to take care of it,” he promises.

***

Aries walks up the staircase of Braidwood Elementary.

Torrents of children flood past him at chest-level and lower. He makes his way inside the school with multicolored lockers, pillars decorated with garlands of paper flowers.

Buried memories unearth themselves, manifesting into projections playing out in front of him. Little him walking with a younger Keila, laughing absurdly, then uniting with Mia on the way.

A kid rushes past him, dissolving the illusion like smoke in the wind.

Aries goes out to the playground, his mind strolling down the path of reminiscence. He crosses the verdant open field to reach the towering oak tree at the end, just as he remembers it. An immortal giant still in its strength.

Aries examines it and finds one of its many branches is snapped off.

He has a theory, and the only way theories can be proven is if they are tested. He goes up to the tree that stares down at him.

Aries grabs on and hoists himself to the first branch, testing its stability. He stomps on it, jumps once, twice then moves on until he assess all the ones can within his length limit. All of them hold strong.

Aries drops back down and returns to the building, departing with the remaining children. The parking lot still abounds with Braidwood parents, moms gossiping, and dads conversing. He goes down the side, walking down the long line of parked cars.

His pocket buzzes. His personal phone. He takes it out.

Akin

Your brother good??

Aries

Ye

Akin

No need to write an essay.

Akin

Well…what happened?!

Aries stops beside a matte black Range Rover with tinted windows. He knocks on it with his other hand, his eyes still on his screen, not knowing how to express his appreciation to Akin.

The opaque window rolls down and Jax turns his head, fixing on a goading smile.

“Boss,” he greets jeeringly.

Aries wags his finger at him, motioning for him to exit. Jax sighs heavily and exits from the passenger side. Aries withdraws for space, slipping his phone back into his pocket without a second thought.

“You have anything to report on the Gokudō?”

“Their leader runs things from Lakeshore, but his right-hand man, his lieutenants, have set up shop here. They’re stayin’ out of our way, but they don’t seem to be in a hurry to leave. That’s why I got eyes on you.”

“Don’t. You have a new charge now. My brother.”

A realization dawns on Jax, softening his harsh features. “You want to secure the future heir?”

Anger rips Aries open again. “The only future he has is one far from Braidwood, then going to some fancy school I can’t pronounce and living a boring, but ~safe ~life, somewhere.”

Jax dares to provoke him with his irksome smirk. “Your~ ojiisan ~wanted the family business to stay in the family. Dead man’s dreams die with him.”

“You were his dream,” Jax points out, flicking his shoulder. “And you took over.”

“Calum is not me. Your priority is to protect my grandfather’s family, his wife and his youngest grandson. Understood?”

Jax’s smirk slips off his face. He nods curtly.

***

Opal is parked behind her desk, as she has been since daybreak.

She has been productive since her brief recovery that her family was even unaware of. Opal has caught up with her assignments that are nearing their turn-in date and turning in ones that are already overdue.

Now, she begins studying early just in case any more unforeseeable events occur to distract her attention.

A knock causes her to falter before she continues, ignoring it.

Despite that, Sanako walks in, leaving the door ajar behind her. She approaches with the utmost caution, watching her sister write and highlight, working like a supercomputer on hyper-drive.

Sanako is not as ignorant as Opal believes. She knows something has been off with her lately and the reason for their strained relationship dips deep into both the past and the present.

“Hey,” she says softly. “You’ve been holed up here the entire day. You didn’t eat once.”

Opal doesn’t respond. She continues studying as if her sister isn’t even there.

“You know what…”

Sanako marches up to her from behind. Mustering effort, she holds onto the chair with a firm grip, spinning Opal around so she can face her fully.

Opal has her hands raised slightly, staring back at her, perplexed.

“What the hell are you doing?”

“What am I doing?” She presses down on her anger, trying not to give rise to her emotions.

“Not taking your crap anymore, that’s what. I’m over suffering through your jabs, insults, and guilt-tripping like I chose for things to be like this.”

She releases a cough, and then another into her elbow. “How can you ever think I wanted this?”

Opal waves her off flippantly. “I’m not doing this with you, because you know what you did.”

Sanako stabs her chest with her finger. “What ~I~ did?”

“If you hated it so bad, why didn’t you ever say anything? You saw how Mom talked to you versus how she talked to me.” Opal stands up sluggishly, pins and needles from sitting down most of the day.

“How bó fù and the others trash talk me, but they adore you. Sanako this—Sanako that.”

“It’s not my fault I’m better than you!” Sanako blurts, regret-ridden, shame-filled tears welling in her eyes.

Opal’s face turns unreadable. “There it is…the truth.”

“Opal, I—”

“Just get out.”

She turns away, but Sanako grabs her—a cough erupts from her and she coughs into her elbow again. This time a small splatter of blood stains her sleeve.

Opal sees this, her indignation extinguished.

Sanako releases her and jerks away, but this time it’s Opal that stops her.

“What is that?”

“Let go of me.” Sanako is too weak to pull away.

“Once you tell me why you coughing out blood?”

“Hemoptysis,” she says. Her skin is like ashy flakes, eyes like the bellow from the grave. “I’m sick, Opal. I bet you’re happy now? You’ll be mom’s favorite by default.”

Too shocked to take offense, Opal’s mind denies what her eyes have been showing her.

“What about your job…your fiancé?”

“I have to focus on my treatments. No one really wants a doctor that can’t even save herself.

“And as for that cold-hearted bastard, he didn’t want damaged goods. He’s not wrong, it’s why I came out here. But for some reason I’m only getting worse.”

Opal’s hand drops to her side like an insurmountable weight has been forced on her.

“I don’t know why you seem sad for someone you ~loathe~?”

Opal looks up at her with tears shimmering in her dark eyes. “You’re still my sister,” she whispers.

Sanako snorts, glaring at her icily. “Now you remember?”

She shakes her head and departs, her scrawny frame sliding through the small gap.

^INTERLUDE: Soul-Bound to Shadows^

^EIGHT YEARS AGO^

Erin sat in the pew with her mother, her grandparents, and Leonard’s family. Mia attended the service with her mom and dad, as did Opal, Akin, and Keila. Everyone with someone except for Aries; he came alone.

They endured the sermon with the pastor droning on, having to listen to speeches from family and friends about how wonderful and charming Leonard was and he was such a giver—a people person.

All Erin wanted to do was throw up. Her mother, on the other hand, was putting on an Oscar-winning performance, dabbing her dry cheeks every few moments.

After the service, Erin reunited with her friends at the foyer, all of them swathed in black.

“I can’t believe he’s dead,” Aries says, suppressing his smile. “Talk about karma.”

“Aries,” Opal scolded.

“What, you feel bad for him? He got what he deserved.”

Keila shook her head at him.

“Erin,” Akin said to fasten the attention on her. “How do you feel?”

“Free.”

She was relieved. She had suffered so much pain at his hand. Could she blame herself for not mourning his loss?

She believed it wrong to revel in his death. Erin had never wanted him dead, she just wanted him to stop, to be free of him and his abuse, but in the worst way possible. She got what she wanted.

“So,” Mia dragged out. “When will we tell all of our friends?”

“Tomorrow,” Erin instructed. “You guys can come over to my house and we can visit him then.”

But Erin had no intention of waiting that long.

***

“Tzelem,” Erin screamed, letting her voice tear through the Black Glade.

The Sporkah appeared behind her, confounded by her apparent anger.

“You did it, didn’t you?”

The Sporkah acted coyly.

“You know what?” she accused. “I let you see everything. Everything. Then right after, I hear he’s dead. Everyone thinks it was a car accident but I know the truth. You see everything, now I see everything.”

The Sporkah didn’t understand her anger. He hurt her. Sporkah hurt him.

“You can’t do that!” Overwhelmed, frustrated tears burning their way out. “You can’t just go killing people, even if they hurt me. You can’t do that, that’s bad, very bad. Do you understand that?”

The Sporkah did not.

“What’s confusing?” she screamed. “It’s bad to kill people. Why did you think you could just do that just because he hurt me, Tzelem?”

The Sporkah stared at her for an uncomfortably long time, tension crackling between them. It floated to her until its wisps were caressing her, dark power emanating from its being.

It gazed down at her. Too much space between them. It asked her to touch it, when she denied, it pleaded.

Unable to deny it again, she reached out to it. The Sporkah leaned its face closer, bending forward to meet her halfway.

Erin placed her hand on the cheek of its mask, igniting a world of feeling within her, dark intimacy and something obsessive cascading from it to her in a soul-binding transference.

She gasped, taking her hand to her chest, gazing up into its drawn eyes.

“You…you love me?”

The Sporkah leaned the forehead part of its mask against her forehead. It couldn’t translate the all-consuming feeling. But it was much more powerful than love.