12 | liar, liar (part three)
REBEL COMES TO PICK ME up Monday morning, the plum trench coat over her uniform a deeper rendition of the soft sugared lavender colour haloing her eyes. Her nails are also painted the hue of rich mulberry, tapping against the wheel as she waits for me to climb in.
"Morning, Blue!" She greets cheerfully, swiping through songs on her playlist. She eventually settles, stabbing the play button on her car-journey playlist. An old Rex Orange County song hums through the speakers, and though it's far from my taste, I know it's one of Rebel's favourites when she dips and sways to the melody with practised ease.
The car ride is uneventful, though as she eases us away from my apartment building, it's Archer who replaces her, artfully pulling into the space and stalling for Ebony. The separation is eviscerating, but with Rebel by my side, it's all too easy to leave them behind.
It is when I'm clambering out of the car that she stops me, beckoning me back with a waggle of her finger. "I wanted to congratulate you in the rise of power, Blue. With Rose all over you, you have him around your little finger, you know that, right?"
I force out a laugh, sensing the underlying meaning beneath the words. We both know he is predator and I am prey, but it's nice to hear a positive spin on the situation, instead of one hundred people telling me I'm drowning, but doing nothing to save me. "Yeah, of course I will, Reb."
"Exactly." Her smile, though it doesn't reach her eyes, is pleasant. "Next time you see him, don't forget that, okay? You could get away with anything you wanted to in that room."
"Uh huh." I nod, my gaze dropping to her hand curled around my wrist. She's not wearing the ring, I note, my own finger bare of its presence. "I'm actually seeing him today. After what happened at the party."
"How'd Rose hear about that?" Her face pulls into a scowl that scrapes against her pretty features.
"My Mum," I mutter, winding my hair around my finger. "She's in the meeting too. And Ebony. It's like a glorified family reunion."
"Huh." Rebel scrapes her hair back in a ponytail. "And what are you going to say? Have you thought about it?"
"It's going to be hard to twist things with my Mum there," I tell her, though it's unnecessary. Rebel knows my Maman―even my Papa, as long gone as he is―as well as I do, and we both know that if she's anything, then it is unfavourably obstinate, and almost undefeatable in her motives. "I'll try my best to keep him from burning us all at the stake."
She swings an arm around my shoulders, satisfied with my response. "Then you go in there, and remember―you have the power.
You have the power.
It's branded into my mind still, as I stand facing Mr Rose's door in the administration block. Gaze heated enough to hope to burn holes in it, read Ebony's mind as he's being interrogated and manipulate him to say the things that I want to hear.
My mother waits in the room with me, the relentless tapping of her shoes echoing against the tiled floor. Head buried in her hands and body shrouded in a shapeless woollen cardigan she's had since my brother's birth―a comforting green thing she turns to when she's nervous or upset, or in this case, both.
When Mr Rose opens the door to let the two of us in, it swamps her with relief and me in dread, but the expression I steel my features with is stricken, only to twist the outcome to one where the Witches come out on top.
"Miss Blue, Ivory, I'm glad you're here," he greets with a slight bow of his head. Though he smiles pleasantly at my mother, the expression he greets me with is more wicked and demeaning, rendering me a machine as I drop into my seat, though it feels like my legs are detached from my body. "Of course, I'm sure you've heard about the incident that took place on Saturday night?"
"Yes," my mother says firmly, and I echo her response. Feeling utterly out of my depth, white noise scraping at my ears, but just like Rebel said:
I have the power.
☆☆☆