Little Hidden Darknesses

I only really breathed again once the Vinsants and I set off downhill into town. We walked as a group, an assemblage of tall, skinny and pale. An assemblage led by Lilith and Genevieve, both of whom were dressed as if headed to meet the queen. They had their hair stacked up high, lacy collars around their necks, and wore dresses so colonial I occasionally found myself staring.

Freya had slipped on a skirt and buttoned shirt, Branka a pantsuit, and Aillard a tailcoat and bowtie. He had all his hair smoothed back, showcasing the defined edges of his face.

The same face I every so often caught staring at me, eyes narrowed and lips screwed into a knob.

“Now,” Lilith said as we veered right into the thick of town, “I think we ought to go over some things before joining the festival. Particularly regarding your role in the family, Eira.”

The way Lilith said it made it sound as if I was their maid. A servant recently hired to clean up after them and carry their belongings. Perhaps that was my role. Cinderella resurrected.

“Since we’ve only just patched things up, and with the Benjy and Bobby affair still fresh in the air, I thought it best if you lay low for a while.” We reached the bottom of the hill, and Lilith let go of her dress. Five layers of lace fell around her ankles, a sea of silvery white.

“Stay close to us at all times,” she went on. “Smile and act proper, but don’t show too much emotion. And don’t answer any questions unless instructed to be me personally.”

I withheld myself from frowning at her ridiculous set of laws. Don’t show too much emotion? Of course, yet another Vinsant motto. That, and eliminating anyone resistant to their charm.

“Do you understand me, Eira?”

“I do.” I didn’t. Not in the way she wanted me to, at least. I wasn’t about to become a puppet. Yet another Vinsant zombie. A slave at her beck and call throughout the damn day.

“Good.”

Indeed, it would be.

The warm glow of fire met my face, every lantern and every candle that had been posted across the square and down the lane of trees to the statue. Even with the sun about to set – bathing the sky in purples, yellows and reds – and the warmth of day fading away, the fog remained stagnant beyond the trees. The All Saint’s Day Festival had officially kicked off.

And what a festival it turned out as. Townsfolk roamed all about, each wielding a candle as if it granted them right of passage to somewhere. Passage through the fog, perhaps. To the world that lay beyond, unknown to them other than what they saw in their monthly grocery pamphlets. They parted way for us – the almighty Vinsants, Evermist Island’s elite – as we made our way to the statue, the stage and block of chairs in front of it.

I gawked at the strings of fairy lights that draped from tree to tree, a lattice of stars in the bright twilight sky. An artificial entity of beauty, much like I’ve come to know this island. Its residents. My mum’s history – or the lack thereof. All perfectly crafted, perfectly implemented to a degree I still struggled fathoming. What exactly made this family so special?

“Evening, Vinsants,” said a man in reverend’s attire as he passed us by on his way to the stage.

Lilith tipped her head at him. “Reverend Parish. We’re looking forward to your service in a moment.”

Reverend Parish made to thank her, but she had already strolled past and through another section of the crowd. The rest of us slinked after her, soaking up whatever bits of attention remained. By us, I meant Freya, Branka and Aillard. They grinned and fussed and made pitiable chitchat, all in a shameful attempt to feel important and admired. Genevieve, unlike her overeager grandchildren, barely glanced anywhere except in front of her.

I used this moment – falsely soaked up the attention – to search for Alejandro in the crowd. Not in the crowd, exactly – considering the unlikely odds of him fawning over the very people who had murdered his dad – but beyond it. I spotted him, together with his mum, as they helped the waitress, Blair, set out cloches, plates and cutlery on the buffet tables.

Alejandro wore a black suit, white dress-shirt and Day of the Dead themed tie, paired with pointed shoes – neither of which had any sheen to them. He had, as usual, covered half his face with his fringe, and moved somewhat stiffly. Probably due to nerves.

I got on my tiptoes and tried to meet his eyes, but he was too focussed on receiving two more cloches from Blair to look around. Damn it. Did he worry about me? What if he thought I had left the island? That I had abandoned him – and our plan – without a second thought.

A light breeze flicked across the square and down the lane of trees, carrying the scent of roasted chicken to my nose. My stomach rumbled, so loudly it caught Freya’s attention.

“We’ll eat soon,” she assured me. “Right after we had visited the cemetery. After we had seen father.”

Her words stayed with me for a while, rolling around in my head. And they might’ve stayed there too, had Chief Constable Salameh not suddenly emerged from the crowd ahead of us. Both his hair and moustache dripped with oil, glistening by the fairy lights.

We briefly made eye contact and I held my breath. Shit. He was probably here to arrest me.

“Mrs. Vinsant, other Mrs. Vinsant,” he said to Lilith and Genevieve respectively as he tipped his bowler hat. “Nice night for a festival, won’t you agree? So peaceful and cheery.”

Peaceful? Cheery?

I surveyed the townsfolk around me, all of whom perfectly fit his description. And that confused me. No seemed at all remorseful, despite the fact that two boys had vanished yesterday.

My breath returned as my confusion grew. I glanced at the Chief Constable once again, this time meeting his eyes on purpose. Solely to suss out his opinion. To find out whether or not he still suspected me. His moustache twitched when he saw me, his eyes suddenly bright.

“You,” he said.

Great. You’ve done it now, Eira.

“Congratulations on being elected head girl, eh? You’ve got the posture of a leader, you know.” The Chief Constable opened his jacket and took out his pipe. He popped it in his mouth and lit it, then puffed and spoke on, “You’ve got a bright future, Piper Vinsant. Very bright indeed.”

At first I didn’t say anything. Not because I didn’t want to – or because Lilith forbade me to – but because I didn’t hear him right. Surely, my ears were playing tricks on me. If not, I still didn’t know what to say. How to possibly respond to something like this.

Piper Vinsants? Elected head girl?

But then Lilith subtly stepped back, right onto my toes. She pressed down, down, down, until I felt as though she might dismember me. That was when Freya hissed in my ear, “Say something.”

I choked. “Oh, I’m not – I’m Eira, not Piper.”

Chief Constable Salameh paused mid-puff. The flicker in his eyes vanished and he frowned, then resumed his exhale. “Eira, of course. My apologies. I’m rotten at recalling names.”

A moment of silence passed among us, so tense I thought I might choke again. I watched the Chief Constable as he smoked, something not quite right about him. The way he acted, the way he mistook me for my mum. The way he pretended as if yesterday hadn’t happened.

At all.

“Have you found Benjy and Bobby yet?” I blurted out, immediately biting my bottom lip. I bit it so hard, in fact, I tasted blood. Why the heck couldn’t I keep my mouth shut?

The Chief Constable, much like Lilith, seemed taken aback.

“Eira –” she started to say, but the Chief Constable puffed in her face and she coughed, her words gone. I never thought I’d see the day, to be frank. Much less live to tell the tale.

“Benjy and who?” he asked, much to my surprise.

“Yes, Eira, who are you talking about?” Branka asked, her hands crossed over her chest and her eyes dangerously narrowed. Even Aillard had stepped closer, his fists tightened.

My eyes flicked sideways at Freya. Her irises had gone waxy, and if I looked closely enough, I saw her bottom lip twitching. For someone who had constantly picked on the boys – and who was likely involved in their murder – she sure cared a lot about them. She rolled her jaw, forced a grin and said, “Eira, I think you’ve made a mistake somewhere.”

A pause in which she swallowed.

“There is no one in town by those names.”

“What?” The word came up before I could hold it back. Again. But then Lilith raised her heel for another stamp on my toes, and I forced my response, “Oh, yes. I think I misspoke.”

“Yes,” Lilith agreed as she withdrew, “you did.”

“Ah, you young ones, always with the funny stuff,” the Chief Constable said just as we were warped in silence again. Then, he tipped his hat and lowered his head at the ladies. “Anyway, got to get back to the missus. Enjoy mass, and happy All Saint’s Day to you all.”

“Thank you, Chief,” Lilith murmured, then grabbed me by the forearm and yanked me down the block of chairs to the front. Her touch sizzled with anger, her grip stronger than I considered comfortable. “What did I tell you? Don’t say or answer or ask anything.”

“Sorry,” I apologised through gritted teeth. Who did she think she was, hauling me around like this? Scolding me for opening my mouth like any normal person? I didn’t belong to her.

Despite what she thought.

We reached the front row and she let go of me, and I surveyed my arm for scratch marks. The tips of her nails had left lines in my skin. Throbbing, red, ever so slightly swollen lines.

“Don’t let it happen again.”

Then, with her chin tilted skywards and her cheeks bathed in the blue-white glow of the fairy lights, Lilith adjusted her dress and sat down on the frontmost chair by the centre aisle. Genevieve lowered down next to her, followed by Freya, Branka and Aillard. They sat without speaking, their heads focussed on the stage. The statue of their ancestors.

“Eira,” Branka said-half-hissed, “take a hint already.”

What?

“Sit down,” Freya added.

I gritted my teeth, but obeyed. For their trust. For their trust. I told myself this every time I felt like snapping, like speaking my mind or storming off. And it worked just fine – that was, until I looked up and glanced across the aisle. Until I came face to face with a boy, his eyes wide and mouth hanging open. A boy with a fringe that covered half his face.

Alejandro stared at me as if he didn’t recognise me. His brows knitted together in a frown.

“What the hell, Eira?” I imagined him saying.

“I’m sorry,” I mouthed at him, just before taking in my seat. “We’ll talk later, I promise.”

Whether or not he understood, I had no idea. I also had no time to figure it out, as a much-too-enthusiastic Reverend Parish suddenly skipped onstage. He hummed a foreign song into the microphone on his collar, smiling and waving the entire damn time. “Welcome, children of God,” he said once behind the podium, and the sea of townsfolk appropriately responded.

I glanced across my shoulder at Alejandro, but he was no longer there. He was, but the row of chairs had filled up next to him, blocking him from my view. I sighed in frustration.

This plan better work.

Whether the Vinsants really wanted me as a part of their family, I couldn’t actually care less. Their words did little to influence me, convince me of their innocence. They were going down.

Tonight.

That much I promised myself.