Starlet: A Dark Retelling - Cora Kenborn Page 0,84
forgotten who we are already?
“Love looks good on you both. Don’t let the damn witches mess it up.”
Now I’m blushing. I feel the heat burning my cheeks. I see Dominic scrub his hand down his face out of the corner of my eye. “Mom, we’re not—”
She cuts him off, her eyes flashing with fear. “Who are you? Why are you here?”
Dominic doesn’t flinch, taking her hand as if this is all perfectly normal. “Mom, it’s me, Dominic, remember?”
“That’s what all the imposters say!”
“Mom, please don’t do this. Not now.”
I can’t take my eyes off her. The way she flipped on a dime, going from normal to incoherent digs into a dark place I refuse to acknowledge.
Brenda’s eyes catch mine, our gazes locking moments before she turns back to Dominic and hisses, “If you’re really my son, then seek the cure. Only the real Dominic knows where it’s hidden.”
“Fine,” he concedes through clenched teeth. Turning his back to her, he watches my reaction as he asks, “Will you be okay for a few minutes?”
“Do I want to know?”
He groans. “No.”
“Then yeah, I’ll be fine.”
As soon as the door closes, Brenda’s gaze is back on me. “He acts just like his father sometimes.”
“His father?” Dominic has never mentioned his father, and it never felt like the right time to ask.
Brenda stares at me like I’m an idiot. “The Wizard.”
“Of course.” Regretting my decision to stay behind, I eye a small water pitcher in the corner and make my way toward it. “Are you thirsty? I’d be happy to pour you some—”
“You hear them, don’t you?”
My hand shakes as I lift the pitcher. “Hear what?”
“The voices.”
“Okay, no water then.”
“What about the static? The bright lines that go back and forth and back and forth.” She moves her finger in a “z” formation.
“Brenda—”
“And the scratching,” she continues, her voice becoming shrill. “Those sounds.” Clicking her tongue, she claws the air. “The ones just out of reach where you can’t make it stop.”
She just described everything that’s been invading my head during the day and terrorizing my dreams at night. Sometimes it gets so bad I lose time. An hour here, three hours there. One minute I’m at the studio, the next I’m in my own kitchen. It feels like I’m a rat running a maze with no exit.
My legs feel like two hollow straws, so I sink onto the edge of Brenda’s bed, tears threatening my eyes. “What’s happening to me?”
But she doesn’t answer. She just rocks her head from side to side, her eyes never leaving mine as she crawls onto her knees. “You’ve protected her for so long, but she’s getting stronger.” I want to look away, but I can’t. “You know it; you just can’t see it.”
Every single word feels like a stab to the heart.
She.
The girl in the nightmares. The ones where I can’t wake up because I realize I’m already awake. My eyes are wide open, and she’s still there. I try to wish her away, but I can’t. She’s burrowed into my brain, locking me away with my own demons after giving them sharper claws.
Scratch. Scratch. Scratch.
“Who is she?” I yell. “What are you talking about?”
Just as Brenda starts to answer, the door opens. “Everything okay in here?”
Quickly wiping my face, I blow out a rough breath. “Yeah. Everything okay with you?”
Dominic holds up a soda can in response.
I raise an eyebrow. “The cure?”
“Dr. Pepper. Imposter kryptonite.” He shakes his head. “Don’t ask.” Handing the soda can to his mother, he tosses a suspicious look between us again. “Are you sure everything’s okay? I heard shouting.”
“Just girl talk, son.” Brenda waves a hand while popping the top on the can. “Did you see the witches?”
“Nope. This soda is curse free.”
She winks. “Good boy.”
“I think that’s enough for today. Alexandra has an early day tomorrow, and you need your rest.” Dominic kisses her forehead. “Don’t cause too much trouble around here.”
We’re almost out the door when she calls out, “Alexandra.” I glance over my shoulder to find her head tilted to one side. “She’s fate.”
I can’t get Brenda out of my mind. If what Dominic said is true, if he can’t come up with fast cash, she’s going back to the place that drove her here. The streets of Hollywood.
We get halfway down the hall when I stop him. “I want to pay for your mom to stay here.”
He stiffens. “No.”
“Let me do this. I have the money, and besides,” I bite my lip while pointing toward the window,