“Mummy?” she called. Walking up the stairs, she stopped outside her mother’s bedroom. No one lay in the bed. Frowning, she found one of the more glamorous dresses cut up.
“Mummy?” she called again as a feeling of dread washed over her. The door to the bathroom was shut. Violet had left it open when she left.
“Mummy?” she said again, this time in a whisper.
She pushed open the door and let it open slowly. Biting her lip she stared at the arm resting on the bath.
Like all the other times, she ran screaming for her not to die. Lifting the lifeless form of her mum out of the bath. The red water splashing all over her as sobs escaped her.
“Violet....”
She screamed as the voice shook her.
“Violet....”
“No, she’s dead. She’s dead....”
****
She was pulled out of the dream as Cadeon shook her awake.
“What?” she asked, opening her eyes and staring round the room. The reality of her situation came to her. She wasn’t back at the house, holding her mother.
She’d gotten out. She was free.
“You’re shivering,” he said. His arms went ‘round her, pulling the covers back over her. She closed her eyes as his warmth surrounded her.
“You were screaming for your mom,” he said.
Tensing, she waited for more questions.
“You don’t have to talk about it until you’re ready.”
Violet stared out into the darkness of the room. She could never talk about it. Her shame and curse was living a life that was a lie. The girl in the dream, that was who she really was. This person in a bed was a coward and a runaway, too scared to tell anyone about the life she’d led for fear of being taken away.
Closing her eyes, she let the fear drain away. As it drained away, so, too, did her energy.
The warmth he gave her would be enough. She knew with time she’d have to leave. Her mother had made sure she understood that staying in one place would get you killed.
Chapter Eight
Waking up early the next morning, Cadeon left Violet to sleep a little longer. After the nightmare of the previous night she hadn’t slept well for the remainder. Anne wouldn’t be around until about seven-thirty, and he had some calls to make. He went to the kitchen to start the morning coffee then went to his office and fired up the computer. Going back, he set himself up a cup with milk and sugar. He went back to his office and dialled Tate’s number.
Cadeon didn’t care how early it was. He wanted some answers.
“Hello,” came the muffled reply.
“We’ve got a deal,” he said.
“For f**k’s sake, Cadeon. I’m working on it. Shit like this doesn’t just grow on trees. I’ve got to work at it.” He heard Tate moving around as he woke up. Cadeon wrote down the name Dominic. Violet had screamed his name the night before. Her mother was dead, and she spoke strangely when she talked in her sleep.
“Well, I’ve got some things that might help. I know it’s a long shot, but they’re stuff she’s called out in her sleep.”
“You’re already sleeping with her?”
“Shut it, Tate. Do you want the names to help or what?”
“Sure. Send them to me, and I’ll email them through to Sean.”
Cadeon gave him the names and the few details he remembered from her screams and also how her accent had changed while she’d been screaming. “Would that help any?”
“I don’t know. These could be people that would bring up more information, but I’m hunting in the dark at the moment. Anything you give me can help.”
They talked for a few more minutes before ringing off. Cadeon opened his emails and checked them through before going to the file he kept on Violet. He pressed the icon and brought up her personal work file.
He took the key from his desk and opened the drawer, taking out the paper version he’d gotten her to sign not long ago.
Something wasn’t adding up about the woman upstairs.
His gut was telling him she was in danger, but for the life of him he couldn’t imagine why. Getting frustrated, he closed the computer and placed the file back in its compartment, feeling more frazzled than before.
By the time he walked out of his office, Violet sat at the kitchen counter, watching Anne make breakfast. She didn’t talk. She simply watched the older woman walk about the kitchen.
“You keep staring at me, child, and I’m going to start dropping plates,” Anne said.
Cadeon watched her, aware Anne had spotted him and knew not to give him away. For as much as Violet opened up when they were alone, after what happened the night before, he figured she would try to distance herself as much as possible.
“I’m sorry. I’ve never seen anyone so happy in a kitchen before. It’s nice to watch,” she said.
“Hasn’t your mother ever been happy in the kitchen?” Anne asked.
“She never went in one unless she had to. Her job was to do other things.” Violet went quiet, and Anne raised an eyebrow at him.
There was darkness in this girl’s past. A lot of it.
“Good morning, Violet,” he said as she took the seat next to her.
She nodded her head, and he noted the lovely shade of red she turned. Anne busied herself in the kitchen. Cadeon moved closer to her, his leg brushing along hers. She gasped and turned to stare at him.
“I wanted to thank you for last night,” he said as quietly as possible.
“You’re welcome.”
Anne placed a bowl in front of Violet and a cup of coffee in front of him.
She left them to go and clean another room. He watched her leave.
“Can I ask you something?” Violet asked.
“Of course.”
He rested his hand on her knee and watched as she jumped from the contact.
“Am I still a virgin?” she whispered, her face bright red. Her chest looked flushed.
“Violet, we didn’t have sex last night,” he said.
“Oh.” She pulled away from him.
Anne walked back in the room, and any chance he had at talking about her question left him. Once breakfast was done, he took Violet to the waiting limo. During the working week, he didn’t like driving into the city to work. Too much stress first thing in the morning. He sat staring at Violet as she looked out the tinted window. A frown marred her face.
“What are you thinking about?” he asked.
She turned to him. No smile either. “Nothing.”
“Come on. I read somewhere that the brain is incapable of not thinking something. There has to be something on your mind.”