Night Fury: Second Act (9 page)

The ambulance arrives just as Xavier begins to wake. The medics walk into the house as I kneel by his head and stroke his hair. As he looks up at me, he smiles distantly. “I like this dream.”

I scowl and knock a knuckle onto his forehead. “This isn’t a dream, bonehead
. You were passed out cold. I couldn’t wake you so I called an ambulance.”

He blinks a moment before his eyes widen in fear. His body stiffens. “Where’s Tom
as?”

I want to be cruel and tell him Tom
as is dead. I want for him to have the life scared out of him so maybe he thinks hard the next time he picks up a needle, or joint, or even a bottle. Instead, I look down at him and mutter, “I couldn’t find him when I got here. He wasn’t in the house.”

He tries to sit up but I hold him down by the shoulders. One of the medics holds out a hand
. “Easy there. You’re okay now.”

But he booms
in panic, “Where the fuck is my brother?”

I stroke his forehead in a soothing gesture. “He’s okay. He was at the library. I called. Clark picked him up and they’re at the church.” My fingers pause. “
By the way, Father Robert wants a word with you.”

The smaller male medic asks, “Sir, can you tell me if you’
ve taken any non-prescription substances today?”

Xavier looks at the medic. His breathing heavies and his eyes dart back and forth. He looks up at me, distressed. “I couldn’t sleep. I just wanted to get some sleep. I was so tired.”

Running my thumbs down his temples, I ask, “Okay. What did you take to help you sleep?”

“I smoked some pot. That’s all. I swear.” From the pleading look in his eyes, I can tell he’s being honest.

The medics aren’t so convinced. They eye each other when one asks cautiously, “Sir, if you’ve taken anything else, we need to know about it. Anything we give you could have an adverse effect if you’ve taken something more. You need to be honest with us. No one here is judging you.”

Speak for yourself.

He doesn’t bother looking at them. He seems to only have eyes for me at this moment. “Nothing more, Cat. I swear.”

“I believe you.” He breathes a sigh of relief, but I don’t let him get away that easily. “But it’s not me you have to convince.”

A medic states, “Sir, we’d like to take you in, make sure all your vitals are normal—”

Xavier’s eyes flash. “I’m not going anywhere. I’m awake now. I’m fine. You can leave now.”

The other medic starts, “Sir, you have the right to refuse treatment, but for the sake of your own safety, I’d advise you to come with us-”

“No
,” is said so harshly, I still.

The medics look to me for support. I suppose I should at least try. “Xavier, you worried me. For a second there, I was scared you were dead. Please let them look you over.”

He suddenly looks torn. After a moment’s contemplation, he utters to the medics, “You can look me over right here. I’m not going anywhere.”

Stubborn mule of a man.

I watch the medics measure his blood pressure, shine lights into his eyes and ask him questions. As they’re packing up to leave, Xavier reaches out to touch my hand. Unconsciously, I move closer to his now seated position on the sofa. We look into each other a long while before he mutters, “You were scared.”

I don’t respond. I was more angry than scared. But, yes, I was scared. For a split second.

He continues, “If you were scared this time, how many other times has Tomas been scared? No wonder he was always so angry at me. If I die, he goes back into foster care. If he goes back into foster care, he’ll slip through the cracks of a system that would rather place him in an old folk’s home than provide home care for him.”

My eyes widen a little.

Oh Lord. I think it’s happened.

I think Xavier has finally had his epiphany.

A smile threatens to escape, but I urge it down. Now is not the time to celebrate. “Yes. If he loses you, he’s just another number in the system. He won’t have a face or name. He’ll just be another file.”

He grips my hand tighter. “I can’t let that happen. I won’t.”

I squeeze back. “Then fight for him.”

The medics are packed up and ready to leave. They try one last attempt to have Xavier come to the hospital. “Okay, well, if you don’t need us, we’re heading off. Nice to see you on your feet, son, but lay off the weed. I’d still like for you to come have a full exam
…” Xavier is already shaking his head. The medic sighs, “All right then. Good luck to you, son.”

The ambulance leaves soon after. Xavier sits there, holding my hand, looking out the window. “I fucked up. Again.”

I’m at war with myself. My emotions are confusing me. From wanting to beat the ever-loving shit out of him, I now want to comfort this mixed up man. “You’re allowed to fuck up every now and again. You’re only human. But you have to want to be a better person. Not just for Tomas, but for yourself, too.”

He blinks. His expression turns intense. “I’m going to do it. I’m going to be a better person. For me.” He turns to me. “I need to get Tom
as.”

I cringe. “Well, there’s a slight situation there.” I shrug. “
Father Robert said you owe him.”

Confusion mars his face. “And?”

I pat his hand and utter a sympathetic, “Oh, boy. You just put yourself in a situation even
I
never want to be in. When Father Robert says you owe him, he means it.”

Still confused. “I don’t understand.”

I stand and pick up my cell phone. I dial the number and hit send. Placing the phone to my ear, I turn to Xavier and respond in all seriousness. “Sorry, bub. He owns you now.”

Xavier doesn’t say much on the drive back to the church. And I’m not sure why. This angry man has yet to say a word since I called Father Robert to come get us. As soon as he crossed the threshold of the front door, I knew this was not Father Robert.

This was Bob.

And Bob was pissed.

Uh oh.

He pointed at Xavier and curled his lip. “This is how you repay me for taking you in? Scaring the shit out of Cat and your brother?” Surprisingly, Xavier didn’t lower his head. Even more surprising was when he lifted his chin and said in a steady voice, “I know I fucked up. There’s no excuse. I’m sorry.”

Bob placed his hands on his hips and eyed Xavier
. “Pack a bag, one for you, one for Tom. You got ten minutes to get your shit together or I’m leaving without you. Then you can find your own way back to the church. You’re staying with us indefinitely.”

No argument.

Xavier stood, walked down the hall and started packing.

I look up at Bob who was cursing under his breath. When he gained composure, he looked up at me¸ “Looks like you’re getting your friends back, girl.”

I tried not to let my excitement show, but due to my fidgeting and attempt to suppress my gigantic smile, Bob could see right through me. He rolled his eyes, turned and walked out onto the porch muttering, “What have I gotten myself into?”

We drove in complete silence. No radio. No small talk. The tension in the air thickened with every single second passed.

When we pull up to the church, Bob stops the car. He looks at me from the rear-view mirror to where I sit in the back seat. “You head on in. We’ll be there in a while.” He side-eyes Xavier, his voice low. “I need to have a talk to Xavier here.”

Oh
, crap.

I’ve heard that tone before. And if history is anything to go by, Xavier’s in deep shit. As in, a mountain of it.

Knowing better than to argue with Bob, I exit the car, but before I do, I reach over and squeeze Xavier’s shoulder in what I hope is a reassuring gesture. I step out and close the door. The car drives away and I sigh out loud. With a shake of my head, I turn and head up into the church. Suddenly, I smile and walk faster. I need to find Tomas.

We have soggy cereal to eat.

Ari, Clark and I stare, mouths gaping in shock.

“Bob…” I say weakly, but I can’t even finish my sentence. This… this just doesn’t feel right.

Let’s rewind here.

After Bob and Xavier returned from there little car ride – when I say little, I mean they were gone for close to three hours… not that I was counting or anything – Xavier walked right past me, went into the room he stayed in previously and didn’t come out till sometime after dinner. Bob retreated to his office for about the same amount of time before he walked into the kitchen and quietly asked, “Tomas in bed?”

I went to work washing our dishes from dinner. “Yeah. He had a long day. He went out like a light.”

He tapped a finger on the counter in a nervous gesture. “Okay, good. I’m calling a meeting. Real soon.”

My body went rigid. “What’s wrong? Is it Frankie?”

His face soft, he walked over to me and placed his hands on my shoulder. “Oh, no, sweetie. She’s fine. I swear.”

I almost pouted. Almost. “Then why hasn’t she called me back?”

He gripped the back of my neck and pulled me close, not caring about my wet hands. I wrapped an arm around him as he rested his chin on my head. “I know her leaving has been hard on you, but you need to think about how she’s feeling. You have us. She’s alone. And pregnant. I’m confident in saying that she’s feeling a little worse than you are.”

My anger at him began to rise.
I near growled. “Then let her come home.”

But he ignored me, placed a kiss to my forehead and walked away uttering, “Meeting. Half hour. Right here.”

Half hour passed quick enough. Soon Ari, Clark and I sat around the small table and waited in silence. Whatever was coming, we knew it wasn’t good.

Bob and Xavier came in from the back door. Xavier had his
hands in his pockets wearing a face of stone.

That’s when Bob announced, “Meet the newest member of our team. Xavier. Codename: Mad Hatter.”

No one said a word.

All I could think to myself as I stared at Xavier was, “
You sold yourself. Now you’ll never be free
.”

May God have mercy on your soul.

My family is falling apart.

Frankie is gone. Bob is here, but not really here at all. Ari disappears for hours at a time. And Clark is still uncomfortable around me, no matter how much effort we put into our strained friendship.

In a moment of madness, I think about calling Marco just to hear a friendly voice.
Luckily, that moment of madness is just that. A moment. Xavier hasn’t said a word to me from yesterday. And I know in my heart that he’s disappointed in us. In
me
. I can see the hurt inside of him. He doesn’t want this. But that’s what happens when you make a deal with the devil. Any time something sounds too good to be true, it usually is.

With Xavier walking the grounds with Tom
as, I am bored out of my mind. I think about tagging along, but something tells me to keep my distance from Xavier right now.

He needs time to adjust.

I was born into this. This has been my entire life. I don’t know any different. For anyone else, the change would be astronomical. I don’t blame him for feeling betrayed. I would, too.

My garden doesn’t need attending, and is looking greener and healthier each passing day, so I sit quietly on the bench under the large oak and contemplate life.
In a spontaneous decision, I stand and walk over to the barn. I key in my code and enter. I try not to look suspicious, but my motivations are not good ones. I know Clark is at lunch and Ari is in the church with Bob, leaving me alone in Mirage.

As I reach the first floor, I hesitate. I mentally argue with myself, and win. Without a second thought, I make my way down the stairs to the ground floor.
I stand by the two desks. Both computer monitors are on. I don’t like the idea of intruding in someone else’s workplace, so I sit at Marco’s old desk.

All this thought about family has my mind reeling with unanswered questions. Questions it’s time were resolved.

Who am I?

Where did I come from?

Do I have any living biological family? Maybe brothers or sisters?

My heart swells with hope. That would be awesome.

I’m prompted to type in my username and password. I do and a window opens.

Full access.

I’ve been granted full access to the Mirage database. Excitement makes my head pound.

I
start by scanning my bio and alternate identification documents. I quickly view the photographs. Some I have posed for, some candid. Shot from far away. When I get to the tab marked history, my eyes widen and my throat tightens.

This is it.

Swallowing hard, I click on the tab. A small window comes up. I frown.

Access Denied.
Enter Password.

Access denied? Access
denied
?

Are you kidding me right now?
Why the fuck am I denied access to my own history? Anger heats my cheeks. I start keying in codes that might possibly work.

CatarinaWhite.

Denied.

Mirage.

Nope.

FatherRobert.

Try again.

RobertWhite.

Better luck next time, kid.

BobWhite.

Denied, denied, freaking denied.

I push away from the table with a huff. Frustration has my hands shaking. I’m so close. I can feel it. There’s something important there. I refuse to feel the stinging behind my eyes and take a deep breath. I inhale then exhale slowly, forcing the anger out of me.

Blinking, I pull myself forward and try again.

NightFury.

Access denied.

Okay. I take a breath and think. I wrack my brain for something –
anything
– that might help. But nothing comes. My shoulders slump. In a last ditch attempt, I lazily type without feeling.

CatarinaNightFuryWhite.

I hit the enter key hard and drop my forehead to the desk. Head meet desk. I chuckle silently. Seems appropriate. This was probably a good thing. No point in dwelling in the past forever. How am I supposed to have a good future if I can’t move on? I can’t change things.

Resolve has me standing and logging out of the computer. Just as I’m about to hit the escape button, my heart skips a beat.

The file is open.

Three files are inside.

The first I open is a scanned document. It’s my adoption papers. I skim over it with wide eyes. In the area where it says previous guardian, someone has scribbled: state.

Well that doesn’t help.

The second file is an image. When I click it, I stare openly at what comes up.

Tears blur my vision as I take in what I’m sure is my only photograph as a baby. And what’s better, it’s with Bob. A much younger looking Bob cradles me with his shirt sleeves rolled up and his collar unbuttoned. He looks down at me with a smile. A loving smile. It makes me smile right here in the now. As a baby, I had long black lashes. Dressed in only a diaper and a white baby tank, I grip his collar tight
ly and shove it in my mouth; with the other hand, I reach up to place a chubby hand on his cheek.

I
look in awe.

I was a pretty cute kid.

I take in that image for a long while before I print a copy, close the file and move on to the next. My fingers waste no time in opening the last file, and when it pops up, I almost faint.

My palms sweat and my neck heats. I’m having a hard time swallowing.
I could be wrong, but I think I’m looking at my birth certificate.

Mother.

Carmela DeVito.

Father.

Nick Bianco.

I
mentally read in wonder.

My name was Bianca DeVito. I guess my father didn’t want me. Which I guess is cool because otherwise, I’d be named Bianca Bianco.

My face contorts into a grimace. Talk about tragic.

I was born on
August 15
th
, 1995. That’s my current birthday. Looks like Bob didn’t have the heart to change it.

I know I should let sleeping dogs lie, but
let’s be honest… Who would?

My fingers glide the mouse over the desktop and I bring up the FBI database. I type in my mother’s name and wait. A minute later her file opens. My stomach flips when I see the face of my mother for the first time.

She was a pretty thing. Dark hair, big brown eyes. She was petite and slim. Her mouth had a natural pout. Before I can stop myself, I print the photo.

I spend time reading her file, although there isn’t much to read. She was a no one. An anybody. She was a civilian.
Just a normal person.

I could have been normal.

My heart sinks. She died two months after I was born. My gut twists. It seems she was killed by my father. She was strangled to death, and my father killed her. I read on. Nick Bianco went to jail for her murder where he died in jail. He hung himself.

My heart begins to
race. Fury courses through my veins. The coward hung himself. I don’t even know my father, but I hate him. I go back to the main search page and type in Nick Bianco. I wait patiently for his file to come up and when it does, I wheeze out a breath.

The file photo taunts me.

My father wears a smirk in his mug shot. His eyes are dark and evil. He stares into the camera with pride. Trembling, I breathe hollowly. The blood drains right out of me. My life is crumbling before my eyes.

My father is Bob.