Fables & Other Lies - Claire Contreras Page 0,46
that belonged to a dead person. It would be like calling death upon yourself, cursing yourself. Still, despite the fades and tears and washed-up signs, Sarah’s face always looked beautiful, but seeing her in person was something else. She didn’t look like she’d aged a day, but that was impossible. I thought of the tree, of the leaves. As if reading my thoughts, she smiled.
“It’s so nice to meet you, Penelope.”
“Likewise,” I said. “You can call me Penny.”
“Oh.” She looked horrified, her perfect mouth turning downward. “Nonsense, love. Pennies are bad luck and my son would never pick up bad luck anywhere, would you, River?”
“No, ma’am.” He smiled. I looked up at River, then back at Sarah. I knew she wasn’t his birth mother, but I’d believe it if they said she was.
“Come. Meet our patriarch.” She moved out of the way, still smiling. “Wilfred. River is here with his date to see you.”
“Hello.” Wilfred Caliban called out as we walked inside the sitting area of what I assumed was their bedroom.
The sitting area was large, with a fireplace, two loveseats, and two chairs around a coffee table. We stopped walking there and waited as the footsteps approached and stopped by the fireplace. Wilfred Caliban, like Sarah, looked to be forty years old at the most. I was no longer holding River’s hand, but I reached for it now. He seemed surprised by this, glancing over at me quickly, but instead of saying anything, he ran his thumb over my hand. The closer Wilfred got, the more I suspected he wasn’t ill at all. His dark skin, darker than mine and River’s, was tight, glowing, and his hair was pitch black but cut very low to his scalp, as if a barber had just passed a machine over it.
“Father, this is Penelope Guzman.”
“Oh.” Wilfred Caliban stopped dead in his tracks and looked at his son, then stared at me. “You chose a Guzman?”
“Yes. Remember we talked about this.”
“Ah, yes.” Wilfred’s brows pulled in and I could tell he was lying to placate his son. “Are you Maximo’s girl?”
“Yes.” I swallowed.
“My condolences,” Wilfred said with a nod. He looked at Sarah, shaking his head. “The bastard beat me in everything, even in death.”
“Wilfred,” Sarah warned.
“Well, no use in not welcoming you. You’re here after all, and under the care of my son. How perfectly fitting.” Wilfred smiled. “You’re a real beauty.”
“Thanks.” I looked down at my feet, accepting the compliment but also making it known I didn’t want any more of them.
“We won’t take more of your time. The guests are waiting,” River said. “I just wanted to bring her to meet you.”
“Thank you for that.” Wilfred nodded at River. “Take your time coming back out to the party. Sarah and I will be introduced now.” He walked away and joined Sarah before they walked out of the room together.
River stared at the licks of the fire in front of us. I let go of his hand and wrapped my arms around myself wondering what the hell that was and what the hell I’d gotten myself into. The good thing was he said I could leave with my friends tonight and I fully intended to take him up on that. After this little meeting and Mayra’s words, the sooner I left, the better.
Chapter Sixteen
Leave this place.
The voice was whispered in my ear. I looked around quickly, heart pounding, but the only person standing in the room was River and he was staring up at the painting above the mantle. It was an odd painting. Black and white, more blacks than whites, all swirling around the canvas. I thought I saw a face. Eyes staring at me. I looked around again. Like every other room in this godforsaken house, this one was dim as well, gas lamps flickering off in a distance, the licks of the fire in front of us not doing much other than making me feel suddenly sweaty.
Leave the voice said again.
“Did you hear that?” I shivered and walked closer to River.
“Hear what?” He looked down at me.
“Someone’s in here with us.”
“There’s no one here.” River made a show of looking around. “We should get back.”
“So, Sarah raised you?” I chanced a glance at him from the corner of my eye as we walked out of the room.
“She did.”
“What happened to your birth mom?”
“What happens to anyone when they’re finished with this life?”
“She died?”
“In plain terms.”
“Plain terms.” I let out a laugh. “There are only plain terms, River. We’re