Book of the Hidden (20 page)

     
Noises came from all around her, the owls hooting, and the beating of their wings as they took off, the grasshoppers singing, and rustling of mysterious animals. All this came to a low volume in Vivian's ears, as her heart was drowning most of it out. It was beating frantically, whether from the run, or from her nerves being on edge.

     
Between the thick clump of trees, silver light from the lake was shining through. Squeezing past the last few trees, she landed on her knees beside the Silver Reflections. She rocked forward, covering her face with her hands, sobbing uncontrollably, it was loud in her ears, and she could swear the world could hear her sadness. The more she tried to calm herself, the more she lost it. Her heart felt like it was literally breaking, painfully being chipped away with a chisel, a hateful artist fashioning it into nothing, so she would be truly empty.

     
A tear leaked from between her fingers, falling to her knuckle, and dripping into the lake. Vivian's hands fell down beside her, and she saw in the Silver Reflections, not her reflection, but something entirely different. Something that made her stand up, and run back to her bedroom window, back to the hallway, back to Seth's room. She walked through the closed door expecting him to be lying in bed. Instead her eyes were greeted with an empty room. The bed was made, clean and crisp. The dresser held no pictures. There was nothing to show that there had been life in this room an hour ago.

     
Vivian's breath caught in her throat, and she backtracked out the door, and ran into the circular room. She slowed when she saw Jean standing staring at the closed door. "Jean...."

     
Her sister turned around, and shook her head. "I can't believe you...."

     
"What?" Vivian kept stealing glances at the door.

     
"Seth left.... I'm sorry Viv, I guess you pushed him away for the last time."

           
Vivian stopped in front of a row of cluttered apartments. The complex was run-down. A lot of the windows were poorly boarded, and from there to the jeep she could hear yelling and babies crying as if it was happening in the vehicle itself.

     
Her eyes fell back to the torn scrap of paper clutched in her hand. The Underground Directories were a beautiful thing. Records were kept of everyone, and their families (if could be traced). This family was a surprise, as Vivian never thought there were records of them.

     
Astrid's parents were a mystery. They weren't mentioned, much less seen. Vivian had always assumed that Astrid had a falling-out with them, or she was an orphan. Both very likely possibilities. Now she wasn't sure. Maybe Astrid couldn't tell them that she was a run-away.

     
Vivian shook her head. Whatever the situation was, she'd have to deal with it. So she took one last look at the address and threw it to the passenger's side.

     
The air outside had the distinct odor of beer and cigarettes. Cheap beer at that. Oh the fond memories of Uncle Bobby. There was at least one in every family. In hers there was more, worse than Bobby, but not alcoholics. She gave a short laugh. It wasn't funny, but it would be so if it wasn't true.

     
"I can't take this! Get a job you lazy excuse!"

     
"Is that right? You're wasting your life at that saloon chatting it up like an old hen!"

     
The walls must have been as thin as paper, Vivian could hear the arguing – No, screeching like tires, very clearly. If she knew nothing about anger she would wonder if they had any shame.

     
It didn't matter, a few steps later to the next door was pounding rap music. She guessed. Hard to tell, all she heard was the bass, and even then it wasn't distinguishable from a migraine. It would give her one for sure though.

     
Finally Vivian reached the right door, which was remarkably silent. The unwelcomed thought came, that one may have killed the other.

     
Taking a deep breath she knocked twice. It may have been her imagination, but she thought she heard footsteps drawing near the other side of the door. But no one answered. She raised a fist to knock again when the sound of rattling chains stopped her.

     
The door swung open to reveal a much older Astrid. The resemblance between the mother and daughter was amazing. Mrs. Calmen however had deeper set of amber eyes, or maybe it looked that way because of the dark circles underlining them. They even looked sunken. Her hair hid dead in tangles around her shoulders. The more Vivian looked at her, the less Mrs. Calmen resembled her daughter.

     
"May I help you?"

     
She blinked several times forcing herself out of her daze. "Yes, are you Mrs. Calmen?"

     
"Are you trying to sell me something?"

     
Vivian would have laughed but her tone was serious and tired. She didn't know this woman's problems but felt sympathy for her. Astrid
was
her daughter.

     
"No ma'am, I'm not trying to sell you anything. I'm here about your daughter Astrid Calmen."

     
Mrs. Calmen's dead amber eyes immediately lit up. "M-my daughter? Y-you know Astrid? Is she okay? Where is she?"

     
She bit her bottom lip. She probably shouldn't have blurted it out like that. How else is there to break this kind of news? Vivian has known Astrid for years as delinquent heading for trouble. And she did, it got her killed. There is no way to just say that.

     
"Um, no Mrs. Calmen, she's not here."

     
As quickly as she had looked happy, her face was now creased with worry. "Where is she?"

     
"Ma'am, I don't feel comfortable discussing this here. Is there someplace else we can go?"

     
"No!" Mrs. Calmen burst out. "Tell me right now! Where is my daughter?!"

     
Vivian stepped back, putting space between them. She wanted a good chance to run in case this mother lashed out at the news.

     
"Okay," Vivian sighed. "Astrid died three days ago."

     
The facial expressions came in steps. First it was shock, disbelief, then her tears welled up as she knew it to be true, and her hands covered her face. Her body fell against the side paneling sliding down into a heap on the ground.

     
Vivian stood there uncomfortably not sure what to do. A few moments of hearing the poor woman's cries, she knelt down picking lint from her jeans. Her sister really should have handled this.

     
A few minutes later Mrs. Calmen looked up, her crumpled face wet with tears. "How?"

     
"What?" Vivian should have saw this coming, but she more expected that she would want to be left alone. "Ummmm...."

     
"The truth."

     
Oh sure
thought Vivian,
I'm going to tell her that her pride and joy was killed at the hands of a dwarf while she was trying to kill her own kind. And oh, yeah, her own kind means that she isn't human!
She shook her head. It wasn't an option.

     
"She saved someone's life. I can't tell you the details - "

     
"Why?"

     
"Uh...." She should have prepared a speech, something to tell her. Even if it was made up, it would have given her peace of mind. But Vivian wanted nothing more than to forget about the whole ordeal. "Ummm...."
Great, now I lost all intelligent form of speech.

     
"Tell me why! She's my daughter!"

     
"I know ma'am, but...."

     
"Oh no...." Her voice had suddenly gone soft. "This has something to do with the claw marks." It wasn't a question, and she went on. "The howling, growling, her disappearance after this. She didn't sneak a dog in, she.... No....."

     
"I'm sorry I can't tell you anything more. This is all I can do for you."

     
The woman's downcast eyes looked up into hers slowly. "I know. Goodbye....."

     
Mrs. Calmen was searching for a name. "Goodbye Mrs. Calmen."

     
With Seth gone, Vivian no longer talked to anyone, even at breakfast or supper. She came through the kitchen after everyone had long been gone. She had even taken to avoiding Jean. They might criticize, telling her that she was wrong, and she already knew that. Her work was her life now, what they all did, what they were destined to do, is what she would dedicate her life to. She screwed up the one thing that could have made it better, she chose this, and this is the way she would live.

     
It was a week since Seth and his brother left, and Vivian stood on the side of a bridge twenty miles away from the Underground. She must be taking up every problem that arisen, like this one, of a teenage girl hitchhiker who would be hit by a red truck at 2:00 in the morning.

     
Vivian checked her watch for the fifth time. It was 1:58. She leaned back against the railing, resting her elbows on it, and tapping out a messed-up rhythm with her foot.
Probably shouldn't have left so early, but Jean.... Ugh....
Vivian thought to herself. She shook her head, no, it wasn't Jean's fault, her sister was only worried about her, just like Vivian would be about her.

     
Checking her watch again, it was 2:00.
Okay, where are you red truck, where are you hitchhiker?
Just as the thought had entered her mind, a rusty red truck came around the far corner to her left. Vivian looked to the right, and saw a short, very young looking girl. She must have been only thirteen-years-old, and her hair was bright red, curling down to her waist. She kept her head down, not even noticing that a truck was headed her way.

     
Vivian hated the feeling that always came over her, when she felt like she was going to freeze up, but she shook her head of what was "supposed" to happen to what will happen. Turning her back towards the girl, she held out her palm, aiming it at the engine. Black smoke curled up out of the hood, obscuring the drivers view, he turned his wheel to the right, driving over the sidewalk, and with a piercing, squealing sound, he hit his brakes, but a little too late, for he hit the railing, destroying the front of his truck.

     
She had thought he would come out of his truck, but he didn't. There was no sound, except for the water slapping against the rocks beneath them. She hoped that he would just be unconscious. Then the girl whimpered, jolting her out of her thoughts.

     
"Is he dead?" She said between gasps.

     
Vivian looked over her shoulder at her, and shrugged, and then back at the truck. It was over..... So Vivian thought, and she thought too soon, because the driver, a middle-aged balding man with gray hair, and dirty overalls, threw the door open, cursing his car. His words were slurred, and a crazed look came from his eyes. The man was drunk.

     
Vivian looked quickly over her shoulder to see where the hitchhiker girl had gone, and she was there, standing a short ways away, with an impression of a deer in headlights. When Vivian directed her attention back to the driver, his butt was showing out of the open door, next he pulled out a shotgun. Vivian's eyes widened. The man was a lunatic!