Edge of Instinct: Rabids Book 1 (5 page)

“Regretfully, the second time he saved me was the time that cost him his life. A Cutthroat in the Vasts tried to take me out with a machete while my back was turned. Jaron jumped in the way. The blade sliced his arm before he took the maggot down. It wasn’t a terrible wound- he’d had much worse. If the blade hadn’t been coated in this new poison the Cuts have gotten hold of he would have been just fine. There was nothing we could do.” He broke off, swallowing hard. “I don’t expect your forgiveness, ma’am. But I thought you had the right to know. ” He stared straight over her head, jaw clenched, hands clasped at his back. His sorrow was heavy and deep, and he clearly expected the full torrential rain of her anger. She understood why he thought she would be angry with him, hate him even. Yet she didn’t feel either emotion towards this man.

She knew her brother well enough to understand what his service in the military had meant to him. Well enough to understand the depth of love and respect he held for the men and women he served with. He had been willing to risk sacrificing his life on a daily basis for every stranger in the city he had protected. He had obviously been that much more willing to do so for his family and friends. The sacrifice he made for this man and the others…
that
was something to be respected and proud of, not angry over. Grasping Alexander’s arm, she told him as much. His eyes fell to hers quickly, genuine surprise reflecting in their depths at her touch and honest reassurances. Eyes glistening with thankful tears, he straightened and whispered his thanks.

He stepped to the side to compose himself as the other three moved forward. Each shared their stories with her of how Jaron had saved them, as well as their favorite memories of their service with him. By the time they turned to leave they had been talking for several hours and Amiel’s heart was lifted. Alexander paused as the others said their farewells and headed through the door.

“You know, he was right about you. All those years, I thought it was just the bragging of a proud brother. Now I see it was so much more. His love and devotion for you were well placed. Technically we aren’t supposed to leave our posts in Texas. Coming here was a fight, though Jaron had won enough respect in the ranks that they eventually let us come. I’m afraid we won’t be able to visit here again. But if you ever need our help, know that we will have your back. We have contacts throughout the country, and we will figure something out one way or another. If you ever need anything, you only need to ask. We look out for our own, and Jare would want that to include you.” He handed her a card with their names and contact info written on it. He hesitated, regarding her carefully before moving forward with what he clearly wanted to say.

“Forgive me if I am overstepping here, ma’am, but…don’t let your mother ruin you.” Amiel couldn’t help the laugh that bubbled to the surface. She liked this guy’s honesty. She could understand why her brother had considered him a close friend. Honesty was an attribute Jaron had cherished above all.

“He told you about her, did he?” It was more of an ironic statement than a question.

“Oh yeah, we were regaled with tales about her every time Jaron wanted to give us nightmares.” He smirked at her and she felt another little piece of the weight lifted from her shoulders. She was grateful for these soldiers and their willingness to go out of their way to bring her a little bit of peace in her life’s blackest storm. Alexander’s eyes suddenly frosted over.

“We knew she was bad, but her behavior at the pyre…for a mother to refuse the torch…” He left it at that, warmth suddenly returning to his smile. “I think there is great potential in you, Amiel. You just have to accept it and seize it. Regardless of what you do with your life, don’t let her or anyone else change you from the person your brother loved so much. Honor his memory, through who
you
are.” He left then, his words echoing in her ears.

The gnawing urgency to do something crazy returned two fold, and she slowly made her way back inside. That night, after a silent dinner across the huge table from her mother, she snuggled deep in her bed, thinking about the words that refused to stop bouncing about in her head. Jaron’s and Alexander’s statements had been so similar, pleading that she should do something worthwhile, refusing to let her mother stand in the way. Amiel sighed heavily. One thing was for sure. Anything worthwhile would not be taking place with the life her mother had planned for her. Anything of worth would have to come after many life altering changes. Changes that would have to come soon or there would be no escape from her current future. The only problem was, Amiel wasn’t sure she had the courage to do what was necessary to ensure that change found her.

Amiel

Upon waking on the one week mark of Jaron’s death, Amiel found a note on the dining table, scrawled in her mother’s strictly elegant writing

“I’ve left for my bi-weekly spa visit. Because of the mess with your brother, I have missed my last two visits, so I will be gone for a week to make up for it. Do try to behave yourself in a ladylike manner. Malinda.

PS. No more playing video games with the butler. He has a job to do, and that job is not to entertain you.”

“Ever the devoted mother,” Amiel sneered quietly, tossing the frilly stationary back on the table. Amiel had spent the last week sulking in her room, going crazy with the need to act on her brother’s words, yet having no idea where to start. Her mother on the other hand, had spent the last week attending each and every high class event she could. She was playing the grieving mother card to its fullest potential and loving every minute of the attention. Sinking into her chair, she placed her forehead on the table and fought the now familiar, but no less frightening anger that brimmed within.

‘
The mess with your brother’.
How sweet of you mother,” Amiel growled, thumping her forehead on the table in an effort to calm the storm within. Yet her traitorous mind had other ideas and kept returning to the note. “
Behave myself
,” she grumbled. “I’ve spent every day of my life behaving. I’m sick to death of it.”

“Perfection makes a person a bit claustrophobic sometimes, doesn’t it?” She startled, finding Jeller standing in the doorway.

“You’ve got the feet of a panther, Jeller! Don’t do that!” Jeller smiled good naturedly before striding over to sit in the chair next to her.

“Your mother pays me to be quiet at my job,” he reminded her. She tossed the stationary toward him.

“Yes, but the Queen has momentarily abdicated her throne, so no more sneaky sneaky, Jeeves.” He laughed at her mock nickname and shrugged.

“Force of habit, I suppose.” Gently patting her hand, he stood. “You have a phone call Miss Amiel, in the parlor.” He turned toward the door, before pausing and facing her again. “If I might be so bold, Miss Amiel. Sometimes, we can’t become the person we are meant to be, without fully testing our limitations and strengths.” She raised a brow at him, and he continued pointedly. “It’s a bit hard for a bird to learn to fly when its wings are clipped and it’s caged away its entire life.” With a smile he left her alone at the table. Jeller and his Yoda mentality. Shaking her head with a small smile, she headed for the parlor.

“Hello, this is Amiel,” she spoke into the phone in a bored tone.

“Hello, Miss Hilden. This is Nacey Johnson, with the Berlintine National Bank. I wonder if you might be able to come down to the bank and have a word with us.” Amiel’s brow creased in confusion.

“Well…my mother is out of town for the week, but I can relay your message to her the moment she returns.”

“That is very considerate of you, Miss Hilden, but it’s you that we wish to speak with, not your mother.”

“Me?” she replied hesitantly, still unsure why they would want to speak with her. She had nothing to do with the family finances and all her purchases had to be approved by her mother, beforehand. What could they possibly need to say to her? She paused. “Did you say,
Berlintine
National Bank? I don’t believe we have an account with you, Mrs. Johnson.” In fact, she knew they didn’t. She clearly recalled her mother mentioning Berlintine in a conversation with one of her snooty friends. They had both agreed that Berlintine was rather below their standards, and was therefore not worthy of their time or investment.

“It is a matter of delicacy best spoken of in person, Miss Hilden. When would you be available to come in? Would this morning be possible?” After another confused pause, Amiel agreed to come down immediately. She had nothing of importance to do today and found herself deeply curious. Dressing in a pair of black slacks, red stilettos, and matching silky red sleeveless blouse, she had the chauffeur take her to the bank. Taking a deep breath she walked up to the first available teller.

“I’m Amiel Hilden. I have an appointment with Nacey Johnson?” The teller motioned for her to wait as she went in back. Almost immediately the teller reemerged with a tall, beautiful but demure woman in her forties. Extending her hand for Amiel, she shook it stiffly.

“Miss Hilden, pleasure to meet you. Please follow me.” She led Amiel to a wall lined with windowless doors. Placing her finger on the pad on the wall, it scanned her print and the sleek door slid open without so much as a squeak. Leading her inside, Nacey shut the door behind them causing Amiel to jump slightly when it locked.

“Do not be alarmed, Miss Hilden. These are the safety measures we use to ensure our more
esteemed
clients are safe while handling their investments at the bank. Please, have a seat.” Amiel sat at the table the woman motioned toward, though she found herself still on edge in the sterile room. She thought back to the rerun shows she had watched on TV of people being questioned in police stations. She thought it might feel very similar to how she was feeling at this moment. Swallowing hard, she forced her eyes to meet the banker’s with a small smile for extra measure.

“What was it you wanted to discuss with me, Mrs. Johnson?” Amiel was pleased that she managed to hide the uncertainty in her voice fairly well.

“I understand that your brother, Jaron Hilden, passed away recently.” She paused, as though waiting for confirmation. Amiel’s heart stuttered in her chest, not expecting this statement. Lifting her chin to pantomime a strength she didn’t feel, Amiel nodded silently.

“I am most sorry to hear that. I knew Mr. Hilden from our monthly business dealings. He seemed a good man, and very fond of his sister.” Amiel’s brow furrowed in confusion.

“My brother has been in Texas for the last seven years, ma’am. I am not sure what monthly business dealings you are referring to.”

“You know nothing of his dealings with the bank then?” Mrs. Johnson watched her carefully, almost curiously.

“No, ma’am, I’m afraid I do not.” The banker watched her a moment longer before nodding in seeming approval. Walking to the wall, she pressed her finger to one of the largest compartment doors there. Amiel assumed that was where they kept the more expensive investments. The door released with a quiet hiss of air, and Mrs. Johnson pulled out a large briefcase. Turning, she gingerly placed the brief case on the table in front of Amiel.

“About five years ago, your brother approached me with a matter of great importance to him. He set up an account, to be released to you upon the event of his death, or at a time he deemed appropriate. As he has passed on, that time has come.” She leaned forward, motioning to the top of the case. “Press your hand to the pad on top of the case when you are ready to open it. I shall leave you for now. When you are ready to leave, or wish to speak with me again, simply press the red button on the table and I will be with you shortly.” With a curt nod, the woman left the room, the door locking soundly behind her. Amiel’s mind reeled, feeling the way she assumed a caged animal must feel. Her breathing accelerated and she became a bit light headed. Gripping the table she closed her eyes and began naming every animal she could think of.

It was a game Jaron had come up with for her to play when they were kids. She used to get terrible panic attacks, and his game was the only thing that was able to keep her from going over the edge. When she finally felt calm enough to focus on something other than naming animals, she stared blankly down at the briefcase before her. Steeling herself she pressed her right hand down on the large pad, and bit her lip as it lit up like a scanner making a copy of her hand. She jumped, pressing a hand to her heart, as the locks on the case snapped open, echoing through the empty room.

With a fortifying breath, Amiel opened the lid to the case and stared at its contents. A sealed manila envelope with her name written in Jaron’s hand lay inside on the velvet lining. Smiling, she softly ran her fingers across the writing before popping open the envelope and spilling the contents into the case. Another sealed letter envelope with her name on it fell out, along with two small black books, worn and creased along the edges. Opening the books, she realized they were Jaron’s journals. Clutching them close to her chest she smiled, grateful that she could have another small part of her brother with her always. Placing them to the side, she reached for the white envelope and ripped it open. A shiny black bank card with her name on it fell out in her hands along with a slip of paper. Placing the card on top of the journal, she unfolded the slip of paper.

Baby Girl.

Did you enjoy the brief case bit? I found it in an abandoned military base on one of our missions and knew I had to get it for you. Technically, the print scanner is busted and it would have opened for anyone, but I thought you might get a kick outta being all James Bond-like.

Now, onto the serious stuff. If you are reading this, it means that I am dead. (I always wanted to say that…you know, except for the whole having to be dead to say it part.)

This bank account is all yours. It’s not millions of dollars or anything, but it will get you started. Used to be more, but I had to spend some of it getting a couple of Cutthroat bullets yanked outta my butt the other day. Stupid health care being non-existent now days and being cut off from the family mooch pot and all. Ha-ha. But what’s left is more than enough for a new start. You can ditch the stuffy crowd setting, go to college if you want, though you and I both know college doesn’t count for crap anymore. You can become an emo artist in Paris, (if there’s anything left of it), or a female version of The Heff, whatever you want to do. Well, maybe not The Heff…but hey, you know what, forget that. It’s your money, your choice, your life. And Heff seemed like a cool guy. Being my sister makes you equally as awesome as me, so I’m sure the female version of Heff would rock. Okay, that was off the subject a bit. I blame the butt drugs.

Anyways, just live your own life Amiel. Oh, and think of me and my sheer awesomeness as you spend every cent of this. And I mean every cent. Just spend it wisely, you don’t wanna end up back home with MOM again, right? *insert evil grin* Love ya, Squirt.
Have fun
.

P.S. Keep the books. Read them. I hope you’ll never need them, but they might come in handy.

Hot tears rolled down her cheeks, as her shaky hands held the letter to her chest. Pressing the button on the table, she wiped away the tears and pulled herself together just as the banker walked through the door. Nacey’s eyes softened as their gazes met, and Amiel knew she must look a mess.

“My brother…he set up this account just for me?” She sought confirmation of what Jaron had written. The banker nodded, folding her hands in front of her.

“Yes. Your mother has no legal claims to the account. All $80,000 is yours to choose what you will do with it.” Amiel’s jaw dropped in shock.

“Eighty…what?” she sputtered.

“It’s $80,000 in cash, gold, silver, along with other various investments.”

“What! That has to be a mistake. How the heckadoodle did he get that much money saved up? And what kind of investments are we talking about?” she muttered to herself, remembering he had said there had been even more before his medical expenses. It boggled her mind to think. Apparently the banker thought the question had been addressed to her, as she answered.

“From what I gather, information of the investments will be released to you at a set time of which I know little about. I am certain when the time has come your brother’s lawyers will be in touch.” Amiel’s eye scrunched. Jaron had lawyers? He hated lawyers.

“As far as the source of the income, all I can say is there were two sources that the money came to us from. The first was your brother. The second was anonymous. Either it was simply a separate account of your brother’s, or someone your brother trusted enough to give your account information to. Aside from the one withdrawal your brother made a few months ago, there has never been any money taken out, only deposited.” Amiel stared down at the card on the table. It would make sense that there was a second income being put toward her account. She knew there was no way Jaron could be saving aside that much money on his military income. Yet it made
no
sense that someone else felt the need to give her any money at all, much less this vast amount. Who would want to do that, especially in today’s world?

“Could someone else have accidentally given you the wrong number for their account?”

“We looked into it. Your brother knew of the second source, and told us only that it was a confidential matter in which the other depositor preferred to stay anonymous. We left it at that. We here at Berlintine Bank are careful to give our clients their…privacy,” Nacey replied with a slight, barely noticeable quirk to her lips. Amiel’s brow rose, but she remained silent, gaze shifting back to the card in her hand. Who could this other person be, and why would they want to help her? Mrs. Johnson cleared her throat, and Amiel looked up absently, still caught in thought.

“Are you finished, Miss Hilden, or would you like me to leave you again?”

“Oh!” She may have suddenly found herself with quite the nest egg, but she definitely didn’t want to be locked up in this little room again. “No, thank you. I am quite finished. I really appreciate you contacting me and offering your time to explain.”