A Vision of Green (Florence Vaine #2) (21 page)

“
S-seriously, I'm used to this. It's n-n-nothing new. I'll be okay,” I say as I quickly wave goodbye and make my way to the front door. I just about make out Frank arguing with John, but I can't hear the words. A moment later the truck door slams shut and the engine starts up. John waits until I'm inside the house before pulling away.

In the hallway there are people hanging about with beer bottles in their hands, cigarettes between their fingers, and drunken expressions on their faces. The whiteness is everywhere, some auras are fully overtaken and others are getting there slowly but surely. I don't see Dad as I push my way into the living room, where there are more people laughing and dancing, and generally wrecking the place. I have no clue how Dad managed to lure all of these people here, although I've a good idea that he spent a substantial portion of Gran's money to provide them with free booze. He can't possibly know them all.

They're so ridiculous, these people, most of them are far too old to be doing this sort of thing. Like my dad, there are many adults in the world who refuse to grow up. Or maybe they just revert back to being teenagers on Saturday nights. During the week they put up a façade of mature respectability.

Still I'm not seeing Dad anywhere, but then I spot Sal in the kitchen leaning against the side of the fridge. She doesn't appear to be drinking, however her aura is all doped up, so drugs of some sort are in her system. She's not even talking to anyone, just standing there in her own little world. She looks about ready to pass out.

“
Sal, who are all these p-p-people?” I ask her, but she doesn't even acknowledge me. Instead she slumps down onto the floor, rests her head on the lino and closes her eyes. Momentarily shocked, I put my fingers to her neck to check for a pulse. It's there, thank God. She's just taking a nap, albeit, in quite an unconventional spot.

If Dad's not downstairs then he must be up in Gran's old room. My conscience urges me to go and check on him, because judging from Sal's current state the both of them have been on something. I need to make sure Dad hasn't overdosed or anything. Yes, I'm making sure my tormentor doesn't die. I never claimed to be a rational human being. Sometimes I'm ruled by emotions that are buried too deep to ever be eradicated. Or understood.

I make my way upstairs, past the drunken revellers, and open the door to the bedroom. I hear a sort of grunting noise, which startles me because Dad could be choking. I hurry to get inside but then fall short. I wish I could somehow scrub the image from my memory. Dad's half undressed, messily kissing a woman who's lying beneath him. She's blond, but she clearly isn't Sal.

My stomach turns. I can't make out her face, and I really don't want to. Without making a sound I close the door and fall over myself to get to my bedroom. I'd like to say that the visual will scar me for life, but I'm already well scarred with images such as this which I've encountered over the years.

Thankfully, none of Dad's party friends have taken up residence in here and I quickly lock the door. You wouldn't believe the number of drunks who would fall into my room back in our old apartment in the middle of the night, thinking it was the bathroom.

My heart has suddenly started beating out a frantic rhythm, as my mind travels back to the old days. In this moment I'm there again. Frightened out of my wits by the unsavoury individuals my dad liked to surround himself with. I need a distraction. Sam said I could call him if I ever needed to talk. This is one of those occasions.

His number rings out a few times before he answers, “Flo, has something happened again?”

“
N-no,” I squeak, my voice all uneven. “I just...you said I could call, if I ever needed to. I h-hope this isn't a bad time.”

“
Not at all,” says Sam. “It's just a little late. What's that noise in the background?”

“
Music. My dad's having a party.” I blurt out, forgetting that I had planned on keeping Dad's presence a secret from my angelic Guidance Counsellor.

“
John did mention he was back. I'd been waiting for you to tell me yourself. I presume you
were
going to.”

“
Sure. It just s-slipped my mind.” Damn Frank and his need to tell his foster dad everything.

“
The fact that the man who abused you up until you came to live in Chesterport is back in your life slipped your mind? I'm not an idiot Flo, but I understand why you'd have reservations about informing me.”

“
You do?”

“
Of course. You're nowhere near over how he treated you, I can see that. He still holds power over you, whether you like admitting it or not. Only you can break free of it. But I can help.”

“
How are you going to h-h-help when I have to meet with that speech therapist from now on instead of having sessions with you?” I ask him, frustrated.

In my mind I had been trying to convince myself that I was just about over my past. Sam says I'm not, and he's right. I'd been deluding myself. I mean, who in their right mind allows their father to blackmail them into breaking up with a boy they're practically head over heels in love with?

“
The speech therapy will be great for you, Nina said you made some excellent progress from just one session. But if you want we can organise another time for you to meet with me alone.”

I scratch my head. “Could we just do it over the phone? I stammer less when I'm not talking to people in person.”

“
That could work.” Sam agrees. “I already said you could call me whenever you need.”

“
Thank you. And I admit I did actually feel the benefit of the session with Nina. The other night I tried something too, well Frank suggested it actually. I used my ability to work on my own aura, to try and cleanse the spots that represent my stammer. It originates in anxiety, it worked quite well.”

“
That's interesting, I hadn't considered that. I remember how vital is was to Ross' survival that you fix his aura after he'd been drained by the witches. It goes without saying that it could work for other less urgent situations. You should continue with that Flo, it's also a good sign that you're being proactive.”

I don't reiterate that I only did it because Frank urged me to. All the same, I make a mental note to try it out again when I get the chance. “Perhaps I can combine it with the speech therapy. Then I'd be doubling m-my chances of success.”

Sam gives a gentle laugh. “True. Now tell me, how has the situation been with your father?”

I sigh and furrow my brow. “Awkward at best, at worst heartbreakingly similar to my old life. Just without the physical violence.” God, Sam has this way about him, I don't even realise that I'm about to bear my soul, yet his questions seem to pull things out of me. No effort needed. Perhaps it's a Nephilim thing. I don't mention the slap across the face Dad gave me. It's stupid, but the idea of Sam knowing makes me feel ashamed.

Before he can respond I continue, “I have this theory, well it's been growing in my head for quite a while. I was thinking that maybe if I could somehow get the opportunity to work on his aura I could make my dad better. Kill his addictions and his anger. I don't know, maybe it's a stupid dream, but it won't l-leave my brain.”

Sam is quiet for a long moment. “I'm not sure if that's wise, Flo.”

“
Why not?”

“
Well for one there's no guarantee that it will work, and for two you might inadvertently damage yourself trying. What you do doesn't just affect the person you're doing it to, it also has repercussions for you. If you push yourself too far you could cause irreparable damage. Trust me, this is something I know a little about. We Nephilim have the gift of healing, not in the way you heal, we can heal humans physically if they're injured. If we try to repair the health of someone who's too badly hurt, on the brink between life and death, for instance, we can lose some of our own life force. It's a delicate balance that needs to be abided by.”

Damn, he's right. He always seems to be right. It's a good thing nobody's told him about my trip to Tribane today, how I passed out trying to heal Rita's grief. “That makes sense,” I whisper. “Hey, did you heal me that time when my leg was hurt during P.E?”

“
I did,” Sam answers. “Little injuries like that do us no harm. The same way you might work on your stammer. It's inconvenient, but not life threatening. Your father's nature has grown over the course of a lifetime, it's ingrained in him. That's something that even a gift such as yours might not be able to tackle.”

“
Okay, I g-get it. I won't try anything with Dad. Can we change the subject?”

“
If you like, what do you want to talk about?”

Oh, too easy. “What's in the forest Sam?” I ask, all in a rush.

I can hear his exasperated breath. “You know I'm not at liberty to say. But I will tell you this Flo, you need to stay far away from that whole general area. There are things in there that are worse even than Diana. The important thing is that they can't get out.”

“
Only the devil could be worse than Diana,” I mutter, annoyed that he's keeping tight lipped yet again.

“
There are worse things than the devil too,” Sam replies, matter of fact.

“
Will you at least tell me something more about elves? Green George said I'm descended from them, remember?”

“
You're far too inquisitive,” reluctance is clear in his voice. Still, he continues, “Elves are woodland creatures. Their life force is intertwined with nature, that's why they like to be close to it. They're some of the most beautiful beings you will ever come across, and few humans are lucky enough to ever meet an elf. They're phenomenally tall, their skin can be unusual colours, silver and gold tinted, sometimes purple or green. They never cut their hair because it's sacred to them. Elf hair is finer than the most expensive silk. They have many psychic talents, usually each elf excels at one and has a small potential to wield others. Some are Empaths like yourself, others clairvoyants, spirit channellers, healers, telepaths, psychokinetics.”

Sam stops now. I didn't expect him to provide me with so much information. His list of psychic talents is similar to those given to me by the vampire Ethan.

“
Does this mean that my dad has elf blood too? I never told you this, but Green George said that my elf side didn't come from my mother, so it must have been Dad.”

The thought occurs to me suddenly as I speak, it was in the back of my mind ever since I last spoke to Green George. Then an even more shocking thought comes, if my dad has elf blood like me then there's a chance he might have some psychic ability too. If I could keep being an Empath to myself for seventeen years, then Dad could very well be keeping a similar secret.

“
Do you really want to know?” Sam asks, his voice cautious.

“
Of course I do,” I state firmly.

“
Then yes, I can sense in you that your elf blood is paternal in nature, though I wouldn't be able to pinpoint exactly where in that line it originated.”

I suck in a breath and sit motionless on my bed. Perhaps the elf trait, as Ethan put it, passed by my dad. He could have no talents at all, his elf blood simply lying dormant in his system. I'm certain Gran wasn't in any way psychic. If she had been then I don't think she would have been so fooled by the possibility of Diana's magic. Surely being psychic would have made her that little bit wiser.

“
I feel like I don't even know who I am any more,” I murmur, almost to myself.

“
You're very young Flo, you'll find your identity eventually. What would be the purpose of life if we knew everything already? Finding out is the journey. If life isn't a journey, then there's only death.”

“
What about the afterlife?” I ask with a hint of amusement. Sam can hardly tell me that life is the end if he's half angel.

He laughs now, low and deep. “Despite what you might think, I don't have all the answers. I'm the progeny of a higher being, but I'm also half human. That means I'm on a journey just like you Flo.”

I huff. “You always have to be so wise and reasonable. Let's t-talk about you then, have you and Principal Waterfield gone out on a date yet?”

“
Why would we go on a date?” he asks, his voice betrays nothing. I hate that I can't tell if he's into her or not. I can't even read his aura.