Bad Dream (Dark Dream 0.50)

It wasn’t.

Instead, a woman dressed like a Vogue advertisement opened the door, her dark red hair gleaming like rubies in the yellow light from the hall. She was beautiful and clearly wealthy, her expression blank as her eyes swept the room while she signed something to Ezra.

And then she saw us.

And that striking face broke open with sympathy.

All my life I’d seen that expression on people’s faces and hated it, but there was something about the way she approached us and extended a hand for us to shake that was devoid of pity.

Elena Lombardi was Tiernan’s lawyer, and she was there to facilitate the funeral arrangements and our placement with an appropriate guardian.

She was calm, efficient, and kind without being smothering. Talking to her made some of the tension knotting up my insides loosen and smooth away.

I doubted they would be able to track down our degenerate uncle who had disappeared on us years ago so we would probably be placed with foster parents or, best-case scenario, a nice couple looking to adopt. When I swore I wouldn’t be parted from Brando, Elena had only smiled slightly and placed a manicured hand on my shin beneath the blanket.

“I didn’t think for one moment you would,” she assured. “I’m here to look after your best interests. Don’t worry, Bianca.”

But I was worried.

I was worried as I lay in the dark that night listening to Brando moan through his nightmares, insomnia plaguing me because I couldn’t shake the feeling I’d wake up to my brother dead beside me the way I’d found my mother that morning.

I worried because Tiernan was not a good guy. Everything in my gut screamed at me that I’d made a deal with a demon, the terms unknown to me.

When he didn’t show up the next day as we had meetings with a funeral director and CPS, or the next when we picked the flowers and the clothes Aida would be buried in, the anxiety only grew.

I couldn’t sleep.

I couldn’t relax.

I felt stalked by the unknown, by the inevitable conclusion to the deal we’d struck.

What kind of payment would Tiernan demand for stepping in to help Brando and me in our time of need?

The mechanical thrum of the casket lowering into the earth pulled my attention back to the moment, my eyes fixed on the glossy black wood as it descended.

Brando whimpered at my side, tucking his head into my arm as if the sight of Aida going into the ground was a horror film he was too young to watch. I wrapped my arm around him and hugged him into my side, wishing fervently that I could take this misery from him. My throat was dry and painful as I swallowed roughly.

“Amen,” the Priest called to God.

“Amen,” everyone echoed.

* * *

We weren’t having a reception after the funeral, so people lined up to pay their respects to Brando and me. Elena stood behind us with Ezra, the two of them sentries watching over us. Watching us for Tiernan.

Where the hell was he?

Would we be passed off to some random family in some new town and never see anyone we’d ever known again?

My heart spasmed so hard, I couldn’t breathe.

It was hard not to believe that every dream I’d ever harbored had perished with Aida.

No family. No New York.

I probably wouldn’t be able to go to NYU after all. In six months when I turned eighteen, I’d get a job and try to apply for sole guardianship of Brando. I couldn’t work and take care of him while I was in college. I was smart and resourceful, but despite what Brando liked to call me, I wasn’t Wonder Woman.

“I’m so sorry, Bianca,” Hitchcock muttered, his dark eyes warm with sympathy as he held my palm in both of his large, dark hands. “I wish I could do something… I wish I could make you stay.”

My smile was flat as old soda, but I gave myself an A for effort. “That’s nice of you to say.”

His mouth screwed up to one side and he took a deep breath. “I just wanted to say while I had the chance…you don’t know this, I’ve watched you and I can tell you don’t get it, but your beauty and kindness leave a mark. They-they left a mark on me, and I won’t forget it.”

I blinked.

Hitchcock and I had been friends since my first week in town. He was also the new kid, an immigrant from India who spoke flawless English with a heavy accent that a few kids were ridiculing in the cafeteria. I’d sat beside him immediately, blocking his view of the other table and speaking to him over their giggles.

We didn’t talk about the bullying.

I think we spoke about Amrita Sher-Gil’s hypnotic self-portraits instead.

Zoey had joined our little group a few weeks later when her best friend had moved away. We hung out at school during lunch and infrequently on the weekends because I had Brando to take care of, brilliant Hitchcock already had a job at a local gas company in their IT department, and Zoey was on the school varsity swim team.