Kids These Days

Chapter 24: Ronan

I didn't think I'd be spending my summer vacation in an old woman's living room, but here I am, sipping Darjeeling on Dolores' couch as she flicks through telenovelas on her staticky television.

"That bastard," she mutters, as the strong-jawed protagonist weeps over his lover's tombstone, rain pouring down his perfectly chiseled face. "He knocks up her sister, and now he has the audacity to mourn her death?"

"Elena deserved so much better," I agree, and then immediately wonder if all the tea has gone to my head. I've been visiting Dolores -- although according to her, pestering is a more accurate word -- quite a lot over the past two weeks, but I didn't realize how invested I was in her soaps until now. Maybe this is a sign for me to get a life.

Dolores arches an eyebrow at me as if she's thinking the same thing. Her steel-gray hair is still in curlers, and she's wearing a Golden Girls t-shirt that seems almost too on the nose. "Don't you have friends your own age, Lockwood?"

"Actually, I prefer hanging out with geriatrics. There's a higher chance that they'll write me into their will." I flash her my most charming smile. She gives me a look that says, cut the bullshit. "We were talking about your mother? Isabella de Leon?"

"There it is," Dolores says, clucking her tongue. I've been interviewing her about her family, trying to get a better understanding of her connection to Rachel Clairvaux. Dolores isn't one to walk down memory lane, but she's been reluctantly cooperative -- probably so she can get rid of me as quickly as possible. "I've already told you all there is to know about my mother. She was born in Dusty Valley. Died in Dusty Valley. Lived the same, small life as her mother, and her mother before that. It's the curse of the de Leon family. Do you want to keep going in circles for another hour, or do you want to ask a different question? Or, even better, run off to your real friends and let me nap in peace?"

"I don't think we've been going in circles. We're covering more than a hundred years of history here." I inch forward on my paisley cushion, refusing to be dissuaded. "Have you ever tried to leave Dusty Valley? What would happen if you went to the next town over? Would you not be able to come back? Have you ever tried putting one leg over the town line and keeping the other --"

"No," Dolores says shortly. She clicks off the television and turns to me, her wrinkled face sterner than usual. I get the feeling that I'm due for a lecture. "You do not want to mess with this, Lockwood. This isn't a fairy-tale where you outsmart the evil queen. It isn't a puzzle for you to solve. How many times have I warned you to leave Rachel Clairvaux alone? If she finds out you've been snooping in her family history, not even I will be able to protect you."

"Protect me? Aren't you, like, a hundred years old?"

"I'm eighty-three," Dolores says crossly. "Eighty on a good day. And I don't need to be young and spry like you to hold my own against Rachel. Not while I still have this." She raps her knuckles against her head. "Willpower."

"You're going to out-stubborn her to death?"

"No! Have you been listening to a word I've said, boy? Rachel may be a damn good psychic, but until she makes good on her deal, she's barred from accessing her full power. I have Leigh's blood in my veins. That makes me stronger than Rachel, and she knows it."

"So, you two are going to have an epic staring contest and then you're going to use your Professor X mind-powers to stop her from bulldozing Dusty Valley."

Dolores narrows her eyes at me. "This is why I don't hang out with teenagers."

"Come on, you know you adore me. I'm an absolute delight!"

"I tolerate you, Lockwood. And you're lucky I do even that. What happened to your real friends, anyway? The last time I saw you all together, you were thick as thieves. Did you have a falling out?"