Black Stars - The Mors Mortis Trilogy Book 1

Chapter 8 - The World of the Dead

The people who are crazy enough to think they can change the world are the ones who do

- Steve Jobs

By the time Jared returned home, his stomach was churning uncontrollably. He'd screwed up. He'd screwed up big time. Cornering Leah on a cliff hadn't been a foolproof plan, but he hadn't thought she'd jump to her death. She was crazier than he'd expected. Braver too. And now he was going to pay for it.

Tremors ran up his arm as he knocked on his father's study door, his fist clenching in response to the physical sign of his anxiety. He needed to be emotionless around here. Weakness had never been an option. Not for him.

"Come in."

He slipped inside the dim room, glancing back at the empty corridor before shutting the door.

"Jared. What took you so long?" His father sat behind a large wooden desk, his tone disapproving.

As Jared's eyes adjusted, his father's form became clear. His hands were clenched on the table, blue eyes hard. A strange mix of resentment and relief rose in Jared's chest. He'd accepted a long time ago that his father had more important issues than looking after him, but he thought that being absent for seven days warranted something more than a 'what took you so long?'. But his father was here, and that was what mattered.

"I ran into some complications," Jared said. "Leah isn't the easiest person to deal with."

"That's not surprising. Have you found anything out? Are her memories coming back?"

"No," Jared said slowly, trying to think of a positive spin for the bomb he was about to drop. None came. "She died."

His father flinched. "What?"

Jared licked his lips. "She jumped off the edge of a cliff."

A dark purple rose in his father's face. "WHY DID YOU LET HER JUMP OFF A CLIFF?"

"I didn't think it was at the top of her bucket list."

"You — you—" Jared waited for a rant, but almost as quickly as his father's anger came, it left again, and he sat back, fingers tapping against lips as he thought.

"Did you retrieve her body?"

Jared swallowed. "Yes."

Unbidden images of the trip down the cliff came to mind. He'd seen a lot of things, but only the most awful stayed fresh. He knew that would be one.

"Good. I want you to go back and watch her. She has to start remembering soon, we're running out of time. We can't hold the S.I.S. off forever."

Jared nodded. "How am I supposed to make her remember? I tried intimidating her and she killed herself."

His father's eyes flashed. "I imagine just being around you will be the most effective. How could she forget what you did? Surely it's there somewhere subconsciously."

Jared's thoughts flickered back to a year ago, to the knife in his hand and the man at his feet, green eyes glittering the way Leah's did.

"I have a question," Jared stated.

An eyebrow was raised in response. "Only one?"

"Why does Leah's adoptive father look like you? Why does he have your name?"

His father stilled, and then he sighed. "I was wondering when you would run into him."

Jared tried to bite down the anger as his father, Brenton Caldwell, stared at him calmly. The nonchalant response didn't sit well. He'd spent the last few days fighting bouts of dread and the urge to sprint home, rationalising over and over again that his fears were baseless. Brenton couldn't have been there with Leah. If he had been that would mean he'd –