'Willow's Missing Tail" 25

Once the door closed behind Daphne and Avery they were insulated in the quiet of the sun-room.

Daphne walked off heading towards the other end of the room where she’d spied several chairs.

 

“Go ahead run away. After all, that is your modus operandi isn’t it?”

Avery’s words and, to her ears, sinister chuckle provoked her to turned around.Her eyes telegraphed an ominous glint.

“My mode of operation?” she queried sweetly, but it was a murderous sugar.

“I believe I just said that."

Avery responded with an arrogant smile that irked her even more. “How dare you…you….ohhh! You’re too low to be described!” she sputtered.

“I’m sure if you tried harder you could come up with something,”

“I could, but I don’t use that kind of language,” she sneered.

Avery shrugged it off. “Then can you elaborate on…How dare I what?” he asked with a disdainful lift of a brow.

Daphne’s eyes flashed with temper and she power walked back to him, determined to win this war.

She poked his chest to emphasize each word. “How dare you label my act of self preservation and completely ignore your supreme act of deception; you’re the one who left!”

Avery didn’t step back from her rather hard pokes at his chest. “Deception you say? That’s unbelievable coming from the queen of deception herself!” Avery volleyed back watching her eyes become narrow slits of flint and fire.

Daphne had a strong desire to ask Sahara to dump Avery in the nearest lake, only the parrot wasn’t around at the moment so she kept a fisted control on her emotions, but it was tentative at best.

“You must have a conveniently forgetful memory Avery; how is it you’ve forgotten it was your actions that destroyed our…partnership.” She’d hesitated on the last word substituting partnership where she’d almost said relationship. She couldn’t risk giving him that kind of personal ammunition.

Avery’s cool demeanor slipped a little at the accusation. He eyed her with a look of puzzlement because in truth, that day’s events still baffled him.
“I believe it's your memory that's faulty. I didn’t destroy our partnership Daphne; it was your actions that had left me no choice but to vanish…still I…,” his eyes flickered with a hint of pain, “I don’t understand why you were trying to bankrupt me? I thought we were both happy with…,” he didn’t finish the thought. He couldn’t risk verbalizing what he’d felt that day, or admitting he’d been devastated by it; she could annihilate him with that information.

He waited for Daphne to dispute his words but she remained silent. Of course she would; he’d spoken the truth and she had no defense.

Daphne was struck silent but it wasn’t by guilt; it was by the dejected tone of his voice. She didn’t want to be a fooled by it, fooled into thinking she’d mattered to him. So, she wasn’t sure how to navigate that admission but she was curious to know how he’d found out her plan.

“You knew I was at the bank…trying to close the accounts?”

“Yes, and I don’t understand why you were trying to ruin me?”

“How did you find out I was at the bank?”

Avery had no reason to hide the facts and began to recap that day for her. "I was in the office with Ms. Bellamy and I-”

“Oh right,” Daphne interrupted him, annoyance blazed in her eyes, “Ms. Bel Ami, your beautiful friend,” she scoffed.

“What? No, I mean yes, in French, if you split the name, it would mean that but she was a client, not a friend. And I was calling the bank to-”

“I know how it was Avery,” Daphne cut him off again; her mind filling in all the little romantic details, “You were calling the bank for money to take Ms. Bel Ami away with you; that’s how you found out I was at the bank, because you were plotting a change of scenery with miss beautiful face; weren’t you? Admit it Avery; I just beat you to the bank accounts. You were planning to wipe them out too, for her.”

Avery stared hard at Daphne; he was mystified by her outrage and her assumptive facts. How she’d deduced that ridiculous sequence of events was beyond him but it was the angry, jealous tone she’d used that truly confused and intrigued him.

Daphne was instantly mortified; she realized she’d said too much and tried to walk it back. “What I meant to say was…I knew you were planning to shut me out of…the business, to start something with…her. So I…I knew I had to strike first but, in the end, you were quicker. You won everything Avery,” she concluded in a factual tone hoping her jealous rant moments ago would be forgotten.

Avery’s eyes remained speculative; he’d begun to see her actions that day in a new light; it was a very different perspective.

Daphne wasn’t comfortable with the way he was staring at her.

“What’s wrong with you? Say something,” she demanded, “Don’t you have anything to say in your defense? No? Then you admit I was right.” 

“I concede nothing, yet...but I am mulling over the events that led up to that day,” he said taking a step closer.

Daphne took two quick steps back.

Avery took note of the defensive retreat and considered its meaning.   

Daphne didn’t like the feel of this cat and mouse game and was ready to end it. “What events are you mulling over Avery? And how will it make you any less responsible for your actions that day?” she asked in a waspish tone.

“I’ll need a minute to answer that…can you give me a minute?” he inched closer and once again she drew back. His smile of enlightenment was slow and devastating.

Daphne’s heart was too vulnerable to that smile; she had to ignore it, and him. She added as much venom in her tone as she could produce.

“No Avery, I will not give you more time. In fact, I’m done with this discussion,” she began to walk past him but Avery reached out and took her hand in his.

She froze in place.

“Stay, please…I don’t think either of us was seeing things clearly that last day.”

His voice was velvet and too darn close to her ear; it recalled the memory of the first time she’d heard it, and tugged at her heart.
She turned her head to look at him, unsure of his motives. “What is this about?”

“Will you stay?” he whispered.

The antique wall clock in the room chimed the hour and Daphne’s conflicted thoughts flew in an alternate direction. She was thankful for the excuse and shook her head.

“I can’t; it’s nearly time for Willow and Thistle to enter that room. I’m supposed to be there with the others, to be supportive.”

Avery let go of her hand. “I understand,” he said but he didn’t break eye contact. She’d become more of a puzzle and he needed it solved, “but, before we go back Daphne…can you answer one question for me?”

Daphne’s heartbeat sped up; his eyes were too perceptive and she feared being the fool again falling for him.

“What question?” she asked in a cold, disinterested tone.

Avery’s voice in comparison was blistering, warmth. “Were you trying to ruin me for your financial gain or…were you after something more…personal from me?”

Daphne felt a warmth radiating through her at his intimate tone but after so many months of mistrusting him, she couldn’t allow it to matter. She shrugged. “Honestly, I’m not sure what it was,” then she turned and walked out of the room.

Avery watched her retreat with a troubled expression; had he misread her intentions back then or was he misreading them now?

*

Martha walked past the hydrangeas as Dillon trailed several feet behind her. She didn’t at first understand Perfidia’s directive, not until she remembered the location of the Dogwood cove. It was right next to the willow tree that led into the secret meadow and the lands of the meadow and the area around the willow tree, as a transition into it, would not be devoid of magic tonight. They weren’t a part of Perfidia’s land.

Martha walked past the cove of dogwood trees and over to the willow.
Perfidia’s cat, Chaos, was lounging near a bench that she hadn’t seen before so she knew Perfidia had sent Chaos to strategically place that bench near the tree. She wouldn’t be surprised if the dewy mist around the willow didn’t have a few drops of truth potion in their watery droplets either.

Dillon was still several feet behind her when she turned and asked, with an innocent smile, “Why don’t we sit here?” indicating the bench.

“Sure,” Dillon shrugged then eyed the darkening sky with relief. It was almost sunset; the garden was bathed in long shadows. It wouldn’t be long before magic was asleep for the night. If he waited a little longer, he could offer Martha a condensed explanation of why he’d neglected to mention his dog. He didn’t want to give the full disclosure; he’d waited too long to confess it; she might not understand.

Dillon sat down on the bench as a sudden breeze stirred the willow leaves behind him releasing a sprinkling of dew drops onto his head. He lifted his hand and wiped at the dampness. “Maybe it’s not such a good idea to sit here Martha.”

Martha smiled. “No, I think that was just a stray breeze; I don’t expect any more dew will fall on you.” She knew for a fact those few drops were all that was needed.

“If you think so,” Dillon nodded then settled back on the bench, but he couldn’t shake off a worrying  twinge of uncertainty.

Martha gave him a bright, encouraging smile and Dilllon smiled back feeling comforted by it, until she asked her question.

“Why didn’t you tell me about your dog Frankie?”

Dillon’s smile slid into a wary grimace. He didn’t want to disclose the whole truth to her but he had this overwhelming need to confess it all. He tried to push the feeling back but it was winning ground. He even bit his tongue inside his mouth but the need forced him to respond.

“Martha…,” he said her name with a tone of regret.

Martha was focused on Dillon’s apparent struggle to contain the truth, useless as it was, but then she felt a distinct stirring of conflict in the garden air. She saw it moving over the garden, wrapping its dark tendrons around everything and branching out to drip its disorder downward. 

“Wait, don’t say anything more,” Martha pressed a finger against his lips, “I don’t want you to answer my question. Can you stop?”

Dillon still felt the need to confess and shrugged, he wasn’t sure he could.

Martha understood the problem. “I don’t need you to be honest right now Dillon; I’ve changed my mind,” she said it loud enough for Chaos to hear her.

The cat gave Martha a disgruntled meow before it winked once and the dew of truthfulness evaporated from the tree. Martha lifted her finger from Dillon’s lips.

“Are you okay?” Dillon asked her, confused by her turnabout but also thankful he no longer felt the need to confess his deed in total honesty to her.

“Don’t misunderstand me, I still want to know the reason you omitted telling me but…we should wait until tomorrow to talk about it.”

“Works for me,” Dillon grinned. He knew he’d only been granted a stay, not a pass but it did give him a chance to work on the delivery of that answer.

The dark winds of conflict began to close in on them; it was coming from every corner of the garden.

“We need to go back to the house,” Martha said and stood up and noticed Chaos had already left.

“But we just got here and I brought wine,” he smiled and held up the bottle and two glasses he’d been concealing under his jacket.

“We have to go now,” she insisted tugging on his arm until he stood up.

“What’s the hurry?”

“I …I realized it’s getting late; I have to be near Willow when the sun completely sets; it’s nearly time,” she told him as she walked away.

Dillon frowned at her odd behavior. There was something she wasn’t telling him and he couldn’t help thinking it was connected to how he’d felt the need to admit everything to her. It was odd how he’d felt that need all the way into his conflicted conscience and then it vanished. And now Martha was acting strange too; he didn’t understand her sudden turn about but he hurried to catch up to her. 

“You’re right Martha, we should all be there for Willow,” he agreed, falling into step beside her and taking her hand in his.

Martha didn’t feel the same thrill as before at his touch. Of course that was because she needed to know the truth he was hiding from her. Not knowing what he was hiding from her, made her uncertain how she felt about him. But tonight wasn’t the time to unearth secrets, there was a dark cloud of mayhem enveloping Perfidia’s home; it wanted nothing more than to rip open any uncertainty in its path.

Martha shivered as an icy breath of it blew across their path.

“It’s turned cold awfully fast,” Dillon said hugging her to his side and shivering a little.

“Yes it has and we have to hurry inside,” Martha said pulling away from him and walking faster.

Dillon‘s long stride kept up with her but he didn’t reach for hand again; he knew she’d deliberately dropped it.

Martha couldn’t explain it to him but she’d needed to break their connection, keep a healthy distance from him in order to keep the ill winds from taunting them with conflict.

*

The room grew dark; a chilling breeze blew in through the open window shaping the sheer white curtains into ghostly forms. The room was filled floor to ceiling with the red-haired one’s many books and they shivered on the shelves.

Willow slunk to the center of the room and waited for Thistle to do the same.

Thistle hesitated, watching the curtains in typical cat fascination, considering jumping out the open window to avoid the confrontation. She worried, if they didn’t successfully squash the twin-rivalry, one of them would no longer be a familiar, and that one would retreat into the magic-less night with no memories retained. It was too much to risk.

Willow’s meow imparted her impatience and Thistle cautiously slunk to the spot across from her sibling.

The cats stood staring across the ominously glowing ramulus positioned between them; it had begun to pull their powers into its wooden husk.

*

Martha and Dillon stepped into the study adjacent to the library room where Willow and Thistle were locked in behind closed doors.

Perfidia had placed cleansing candles around the room but the conflict wasn’t abated. Martha noticed it flicking the flames to threatening heights.

Perfidia had noticed it too but decided to ignore it, hoping it stayed in the fringes of the room.
She smiled at Martha and Dillon and offered them a brandy to ward off the chill in the room, but it wasn’t just this room, the chill had permeated the entire house. It was the kind of chill that sunk into your bones and made you shiver.

Ram, Chaos and Max were huddled close together, to ward off the chill as well as they guarded the library door. Even Daphne’s Parrot Sahara, keeping a close watch from her preferred perch on the curtain rod above one of the study’s tall window’s, was squawking under her parrot beak about her freezing feathers.

“It’s begun,” Martha whispered as she took a glass of brandy from Perfidia.

“It has,” Perfidia agreed, offering a glass to Dillon but she nearly dropped the tray when her door chimes filled the air with Beethoven’s familiar chords.

Martha met her eyes but neither had any idea who would be calling at this hour; no one else was expected.

“I'll see who it is,” Perfidia mumbled handing the tray to Martha.

 

Perfidia passed Daphne and Avery on her way to the front door and noticed they weren’t walking together so she assumed their talk to clear up the misunderstandings hadn’t gone as expected. She wasn’t surprised, this night of conflict wouldn’t easily allow happy outcomes. 

She smiled at them “I’ve some top shelf brandy in the study for you both.”

“That’s just what I need,” Daphne said quickening her step heading towards that room.

“Thank you Perfidia,” Avery acknowledged with a nod but didn’t take his eyes off Daphne’s retreating back.

Perfidia's door chimes filled the air again. 

She frowned as she approached the door; she had no idea who was out there.