Blood Song

The inside of the house smelled a bit musty, so we opened a couple of windows. I was loving the cold weather, and would have opened a lot more, but Rebecca shook her head at me, and led the way upstairs to Mum's bedroom. It looked just as it always had, but tonight it seemed filled with deep dark secrets. Hopefully, anyway.

Rebecca opened the old wooden wardrobe in the corner of the room, and within minutes she had pulled out a couple of old cardboard shoeboxes and a small wooden chest. I dug around under the bed and searched through the bedside table drawer, finding nothing but a couple of dust balls and a book with a half-naked couple on the cover. I closed my eyes, trying desperately to erase that from my memory. I gave up after a few seconds and had a look through it. Gosh. I looked at the cover again, and saw the words "Erotic Romance" emblazoned across the top. I'll say. My ears felt as if they were on fire. I glanced over at Rebecca, who was busy rifling through the papers in the first shoe box, and not paying me any attention whatsoever. Good. I surreptitiously tucked the book back into the drawer. Mum's secret would be safe with me. Well, that one at least.

Rebecca

The first shoebox was filled with old papers, some were bills, others letters from organisations and banks. None seemed particularly significant. The second contained Christmas cards, and a couple of childish drawings and homemade birthday and mothers' day cards. My heart lurched with guilt at this proof of our mother's love for us. I was sure she was only trying to protect us with her evasiveness. But then I thought of all that had happened over the past three weeks, and how much I had changed, and how different my life was, and I decided there and then that I didn't need any protection. I lived in a different world now, one that was governed by power and violence and instinct, and I was adapting all the time. I had become queen of the paradigm shift.

I carefully replaced the shoeboxes in the bottom of the wardrobe, and hefted the wooden box. It seemed fairly light, but it was locked, and when I shook it I could hear the rattle and rustle of papers within. I looked up at Mark who was also looking a bit guilty.

"We should take this with us to Angus' place. He might have an idea how to open it."

"Or he could call Fergus," he smirked at me.

"I'll tell him you suggested that," I threatened.