D.K. Sanz/Kyrian Lyndon's Blog, page 10

DEADLY VEILS BOOK ONE: SHATTERING TRUTHS – 37

Chapter Thirty-seven 

June, 1988 

T 

he cedar arbor at our garden’s entrance had a Moorish arch design and looked joyously majestic, with climbing roses in vibrant orange velvet. I cut one just to hold and breathe in, and then caught a glimpse of a sparrow that had landed on the branch of a maple tree. The tiny bird hadn’t landed quite right. I watched it try to steady itself, and then it flew away, seemingly flustered. I smiled. 

It was a gorgeous day. I felt better than I had in a while. 

Walking around to the porch, I could see the gerbera daisies my grandmother had placed in a ceramic vase upon the windowsill. Over the winter, she’d planted those in our garden for Angie. They were yellow and cheerful, and I knew Angie would like them. My high school graduation had been bittersweet without her, but her parents had been there with us, teary-eyed and looking happy for me. As for Angie, she would be happy to know I had endured the anxiety of medical testing, and I was okay. Of course, a ruptured hymen proved nothing, but I knew now that Phil and Sergio had gotten what they’d wanted. At least I could take comfort in the fact that there had been no sign of them. I figured I had made the right decision going to the police that night, and it must have scared them off. 

I sat on the porch bench and held the rose to my heart, sniffing it again. My life, for the moment, seemed as fresh as that beautiful bloom. 

In my heart, I knew I had conquered something, jumped a hurdle or two. Remembering who I was and what I’d wanted had been among the first steps, but I was in it for the long haul; I knew that now. Whatever I had to do to heal, I was ready.  

My mom pulled up and emerged from the car, looking lovely as always. 

“I thought you would be up in your room,” she said, climbing the stairs. 

I told her I had written a lot that day. 

She joined me on the bench. “That’s good. And fresh air is good.” 

We sat in silence for a moment, and then I asked her to tell me again, how she met my father. 

“Ah, you know that story,” she said. “I met him when I was learning how to speak English. He was in my class. We used to pass notes back and forth, trying to make use of the English we learned.” 

“Aw.” 

“I was living with my aunt and uncle. After we got married, I stayed here with Grandma and Grandpa, and your father went to Vietnam.” 

“See, you made it through a lot together,” I said, “and you would have done that with or without that psychic.” 

She shrugged. “Maybe.” 

“Are you still going there?” 

“Nah, but, Danielle, let me tell you something. There are some phonies out there, but this man was not. He helped your brother. I believe that. He helped my marriage.” 

“Why did your marriage need help?” 

She waved. “It all started with a misunderstanding. Your grandmother always made accusations whenever I went somewhere. He started to believe her, and he went to lunch with a secretary from his place. Things like that happened, but neither of us cheated.” 

“Well, good, and we don’t need any more secrets either. Secrets can be deadly. There was no reason not to tell me that Robbie pushed me down the stairs.” 

“I know.” 

“Does Daddy know I know?” 

“He knows. We love you, Danielle. We don’t want you to feel hurt, not you, or your brothers.” She gave me a tight shoulder hug. “We’re proud of you always, and we love you.” 

“I love you both, too,” I said, “but his temper scares me, and that’s not okay.” 

“No, it’s not,” she agreed, “but I’m going to tell you one more thing. No matter what he says … when he came back from Vietnam, there were days I used to find him on the bed, curled up in a ball and crying. Believe me—he went through hell. He keeps it all inside, and, no, it’s not okay, but your father is a good man, a very good man. He’s the best.” 

I felt that emotional wave. The heartache came, and the tears. Funny that I knew this, how good a man he was, and that I loved him so dearly, yet I still feared him. I knew, too, that that fear was justified. 

We shared another quiet moment, and I told her about the bird I’d seen earlier. “It’s funny,” I said. “I felt bad watching it struggle. Do you think that’s what it’s like for God when he watches us?” 

“I think so,” she replied, smiling. 

“And sometimes I feel like that little bird, like how the hell do you do this …?” 

She laughed and hugged me again, tight to her bosom. “You’re going to be fine on any branch of any tree you land on, Danielle,” she said. “I believe in you.” 

That meant the world to me. 

Deadly Veils Book One: Shattering Truths was originally published as Deadly Veils: Book One: Provenance of Bondage copyright © October 2015 by Kyrian Lyndon. The revised edition, Deadly Veils: Book One: Shattering Truths was published in December 2016. Cover design by KH Koehler Design.

Joy Can’t Wait

Love this post from my friend, Amy. She has so much wisdom to share, and she’s not only brilliant, she’s funny, too.

amyhenrybooks

Last month, I mentioned that I walked my hood daily during COVID as a healthy alternative to going completely bonkers (for which there is no vaccine), and that I continue to do so even though my local gym has re-opened. Yes, the gym has a range of equipment that exercises all of me, large flatscreen TVs with a zillion channels, regulated comfy year-round temps, and fluffy towels, but after nine years, it’s… boring. Not so the varied streets of my town, where every day brings something new and interesting to my view:

A jumble of tiny painted clay gnomes set beneath a maple tree.

An interweave of hedge branches so intricately constructed, so heartstoppingly beautiful, I paused in mid-stride, certain British nature sculptor Laura Bacon had snuck in and arranged it all moments before.

An eye-popping purple gate leading to a hidden garden.

The May morning everyone’s tulips bloomed, cued…

View original post 1,126 more words

DEADLY VEILS BOOK ONE: SHATTERING TRUTHS – 36

Chapter Thirty-six

A 

fter a few days of rain and fog, the early April weather was gorgeous. It felt like spring, and everyone in the office seemed happy—except me. 

Quinton was behind the receptionist’s desk, and I sank comfortably into the chair facing him. “What the hell am I doing here, Quinton —on this earth?” I asked. “What am I doing? I feel like I’m pounding on an iron wall—screaming in a doorway where there’s nobody home. I’m just floating through time with a feeling of being and not being. What am I doing here? I always find myself asking that question, no matter where I am. I should be able to handle all this. The strength used to be there. There were obstacles, but I learned to get around them. Now I’m caught in a current of some kind.” 

A smile began to tug at his lips. “I think you know where the strength came from, and you can find it again.” 

“I don’t know,” I said. “When I told you about that so-called dream, there were things I left out. Like there were times I thought that reptilian thing was going to strangle me.” 

“So the dream took on an added dimension.” 

“We keep calling it a dream, but it didn’t feel like a dream,” I reminded him, “and they felt like human hands. I know that doesn’t make any sense, but, the thing is, I don’t want to go to sleep at night! I’m spooked by the darkness. I jump when the telephone rings. I jump for footsteps, noises, fallen objects.” 

“Good grief!” he joked. “The rulers of darkness want to run with your soul.” 

“It’s not funny.” I pouted. “I think Angie’s worried about me.” 

“Maybe she is, but you know who is not worried about you?” 

“Who?” 

“The mightiest power of all.” 

“Superman?” 

He chuckled again. 

“Oh, yeah, God. Where is He, by the way? I don’t have an address or a phone number. In fact, I see no trace of Him.” 

“Do you want to know why He’s not worried?” 

“I can’t wait to hear.” 

“Because He knows what you’re capable of.” 

“Right, after all my angry poems, I’m sure He’s been singing my praises.” 

“Now, now, you know people do find their faith tested sometimes in moments of grief and loss, but you’ll find your way again.” 

It seemed like the perfect moment to tell him about Valentin. “He wasn’t looking for romance, let alone with a teenager,” I explained. “He was focusing on the kids, his career, continuing his education, working on his issues, dealing with the failed marriage. We were obviously attracted to each other, but he was simply a good friend to me when I needed him, and that’s that.” 

Quinton raised his eyebrows. “Sounds like his mama raised him right.” 

“Yeah, I guess she did. And, you know, in some ways, you remind me of him. Well, I mean, aside from being nice, you both encourage me and share a lot of my passions. Valentin and I even love the same music—including Motown.” 

“Ah, Motown!” Quinton’s deep chuckle was a comfort. “Sounds like you found another kindred spirit.” 

“Yes, perfect way to describe it,” I said. “I just wish I could stop thinking about him.” 

He smiled. “Well, do you believe in fate?” 

“Yes, I do.” 

“If it’s meant to be, it will be.” 

“Maybe.” I stood. “Well, I better get back to my desk.”I couldn’t wait to finish my work and go home. 

When I did, finally, I closed the door behind me and breathed a sigh of relief. Strangely, even with the nightmares, the old house had become my safe haven. 

That night, there was an infant in my dream. She had brown hair and eyes, and she was crying, so I held her. Though I had no plans to be a mother, or even a wife, and vowed not to drag another innocent child into this hellhole, there wasn’t any doubt she was my child. I had feelings I understood for the first time. 

She was the future child I feared for, the tender soul I couldn’t protect. Those eyes would look to me, trusting me to make it a good life, and, at times, she would look bewildered. The thought that she should suffer absolutely crushed me. I couldn’t bear the thought that her dreams might be shattered along with her precious heart, that she would see the world as it is, and that it would devastate her. These were torturous thoughts that brought insurmountable pain. 

I knew, too, that I would make great sacrifices for this child, and that, without hesitation, I would die for her. 

 Kissing her face now, I held her as close as I could. I held her, and I cried. 

The dream ended with the supposed illusion of those glittering lights and the discharge of electricity I could feel throughout my body. The reptilian creature had returned. 

It seized my tremulous form from behind, and then it was inside of me, yet I could see it in the darkness. There were no eyes in the back of my head, but I saw it. Either I saw what it wanted me to see, or I saw what my mind had constructed. It might have been an image seared into my brain as a child, this concept of the “evil one,” and it fused now with all my shame and crippled me with fear. 

My muscles tensed, but I was too shocked to feel violated, too sedated beyond even the sleep stage. Rather, there was this hypnotic appeasement. Part of me wanted to scream, but I could not muster a gasp and couldn’t move. It seemed I was losing my desire to resist, that I would surrender, losing my soul or my mind. It seemed, too, that I could die, or that I was already in the process of dying. Whatever it was, it wanted to corrupt me, maybe even drain and deplete me. Its determination was fierce. 

“What do you want?” I asked. Surely, I did not say those words. We seemed to communicate telepathically. 

A strange, robotic voice replied, “The enemy is here beyond the gates and will rise.” 

It became clear in that moment; I had to shift my consciousness and reclaim the power I had lost. 

As this thought occurred, the creature’s form changed. It became Angie with her innocent eyes and shy, sweet smile. It was comforting enough to drop my guard, but then her curious eyes seemed to look right through me, and the reptilian creature reappeared in her place. I could see its eyes now—gold eyes, big and bulging. It was reaching for my throat but with claws now that were piercing my flesh. 

“Your deception is so cruel.” The words seemed to leave my mind of their own volition. “You can only manipulate with tricks, and when I’m in a weak and helpless state. That is the extent of your power. That is all you can do. You can’t destroy me unless I let you, and I won’t let you.” 

As I said these words, the bulging eyes turned a blood red. They seemed to represent every oppressor I’d had in my life, everyone who had ever made me feel worthless. Sadly, one was Robbie, and another was my father, but I could forgive the pain they’d caused. Phil and Sergio brought more anger than sadness, but I had to let it sink in. They raped me—both of them. The pain coursed through me as I saw this image of myself, falling to my knees in the darkness. 

“You erased me!” I cried. “You shattered my soul!” 

They had taken away all that I was, every bit of trust and hope that I’d held—for a moment or perhaps for a season—but I had to take it back. 

“No!” I shouted in my head. “This is not what I want. No! No! No! No more! You don’t know what I want, and you can’t keep me down. Be gone! I denounce you! Leave me in peace and be gone!” 

The tears came, and then the sobbing. It was as if the sobbing came from deep within my soul, from the pit of my heart, and that others mourned with me. I could almost hear them—above all, my dear Angie, and the little girl inside me. 

Something happened—a shift in energy, perhaps—but something changed. The creature was gone. I had won, and I knew it. 

There were beautiful doves flying—white doves, black doves. It was neither dark nor light, but darkness and light had become one, and something was shining down upon me. Was it me? That figure curled on the ground and bundled in blankets had weary eyes through which a lifetime of emotion had passed. Those eyes had shed many tears, but had seen much joy and laughter. She was lying in a puddle of blood and dying, until a kind old man happened by and tapped her shoulder with a cane. She turned her head away. He knelt and placed a gentle hand upon her shoulder. 

“Come home,” he said to her. 

“What is home?” I asked in my silence. “Where is it?” 

The girl was weak, but he lifted her into his arms and carried her to where her path had begun long ago. Then he vanished. 

I quieted then because I felt gentle arms around me, truly felt them. The surrounding light made it impossible to tell whether it was Angie, a guardian angel, or Jesus, but there was an impenetrable shield encircling me, protecting me. I felt drenched in love, and the arms simply held me as I cried—with more tenderness than I could ever have imagined. 

Deadly Veils Book One: Shattering Truths was originally published as Deadly Veils: Book One: Provenance of Bondage copyright © October 2015 by Kyrian Lyndon. The revised edition, Deadly Veils: Book One: Shattering Truths was published in December 2016. Cover design by KH Koehler Design.

A LOVING LETTER TO A FRIEND

What are we going to do about the fact that I’m dying?”

She asked him.

“There’s a lot we haven’t resolved.

There’s so much we can’t say to each other,

Including goodbye.

I don’t think I’ve done enough for you,

Or that I ever deserved you.

“I keep trying to let things go,

Let it be,

Have faith,

Have trust,

And I think it works, most of the time.

Wisdom is crystallized pain,

And my greatest pain has been your sadness.

I worry so much about you.

“Everything shifted

When you entered my world.

You led me to the right path,

Revealed my inner shadows.

You made me a better human.

And, I love you.

And, I just want you to be okay.

More than anything, I want you to be happy.

But, you’re not, and I can’t leave you like that.

You deserve to find your joy.

“Walking away from hard-hearted people is easy

For me,

But you,

Despite your impenetrable shell,

Are the kindest person I have ever known.

I could never walk away.

I’d miss you more than

I’ve ever missed anything in my life.

“Oh, and what are we going to do about the fact that you’re dying?”

She asked him next.

“I think you’re afraid.

A lost soul who can’t find the path that leads home.

I see innocence,

Confusion,

And anger,

Your eyes don’t light up.

I see the beauty you don’t see,

In yourself,

Or in the world around you.

“Believe me; I get it.

The world makes you angry,

Robs you of the will to fight.

What you say concerns me, though.

I want to talk to you about it,

But when I do, you shut me down.

You can’t forgive those people,

And you’re right about them:

They don’t deserve any more of your energy.

It baffles me that they were so unkind,

To someone so precious.

And, because of them,

You haven’t been kind to yourself.

You don’t love who you are,

But I love you.

“Thank you for continuing to live when

You wanted to die.

Maybe I had no right to insist

Life’s worth fighting for.

It’s your existence,

Your pain.

I can’t suffer it for you.

And, I’d never say you were selfish,

No matter what you chose.

Unbearable is just that.

But, in every blessed way, you transformed me.

You showed me unconditional love.

“Of course, I know, too, how hard you fought to survive.

I’m honored that you chose to stay with me.

And, though you’d never admit it,

You’ve come such a long way.

It still hurts, I know,

But you’re never alone,

And never will be.

“Promise me this, though.

Begin, once again, to cherish

The whisper of the wind,

The beauty of a clear day,

And the divinity in all of nature.

Hold hands with someone,

Sigh at the faraway places,

Laugh at yourself,

Find humor wherever you can,

And let somebody hug you.

Embrace your vulnerability,

Savor your progress,

Celebrate your triumphs, and

Learn from your mistakes,

Always healing.

“Promise me, too,

You’ll take a chance on love

Again and again.

Reach out, my dear one.

Find it in your heart to forgive.

And, finally,

Know this.

You’ll be back.

I’ll be back.

We’ll cross paths again.

We are all dying, my friend, so, please

Begin to live.”

“My Friend” from Awake with the Songbirds by Kyrian Lyndon

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Thank you! Hope you enjoyed the poem!

DEADLY VEILS BOOK ONE: SHATTERING TRUTHS – 35

Chapter Thirty-five

H 

e rode in on his bike just as I pulled into the parking lot. He parked, chained the bike, and removed his helmet. I emerged from the car. 

The quick kiss hello was the same as always. 

“How are you?” I asked. 

He shrugged. “I was going to ask you the same question.” 

“Not great, but I know how upset you must be.” 

“Don’t worry about me,” he said. “I told you I’m here if you need anything.” 

We walked through the parking lot and strolled along the boardwalk. “Beach closes at sunset,” he said. 

That was happening already. The sky above the waters had a dramatic splash of bright orange with nuances of salmon and gold, making the sun appear almost white with a luminous golden shield. I could see a sailboat in the distance. Valentin said it was a breathtaking sunset, and I must admit, I felt a secret thrill being alone with him. I was nervous, too, which must have been obvious. 

“Relax,” he said. “You know, Captain Kidd buried his treasure somewhere around here. Want to look for it?” 

I laughed. 

“Well, it’s actually Charles Island where he’s said to have buried it, but then he seemed to have buried his treasure all over the place, or, more likely, nowhere. Of course, that was close to three hundred years ago.” He looked at me. “Why are you laughing?” 

“I like seeing the adventurous boy in you.” 

“He’s always there.” 

“Oh, well, speaking of adventures in childhood … I’m sure you heard about the angel dust episode.” 

“Yeah, it concerned me.” 

“Okay, the truth is, I tried just about everything except heroin in my early teens, but that ended years ago. Something pulled me back there for a minute, but I learned my lesson. I know it sounds crazy, but, at the time, it didn’t scare me. Maybe because it never seemed to scare Robbie, I don’t know. I’d do acid and go on roller coaster rides with Angie, or inside haunted houses. I thought it was a blast.” 

“You’re twisted.” 

“Oh, come on. You never did any of those drugs?” 

“Never.” 

“Not even pot?” 

“Not even.” 

“I must be the opposite of you, then, because I never had a drinking problem.” 

“Quick—name your five favorite drinks.” 

“Margarita, Tequila Sunrise, Brandy Alexander, Bailey’s Irish Crème, Singapore Sling.” 

He laughed. 

“Well, okay, listen up,” I said. “There’s a Nietzsche quote I heard: ‘One must still have chaos within oneself to be able to give birth to a dancing star.’ Hmm …what book is that from? I forget.” 

“I don’t know…perhaps Thus Spoke Zarathustra,” he said. “But I have a favorite of my own: ‘The preponderance of pain over pleasure is the cause of our fictitious morality and religion.’ Think about that one for a while.” 

Now I laughed. “If anyone had told me I’d be hearing all this from that rock star biker dude with the beautiful tattoos and all, making all the women sigh—” 

He looked to the heavens and then from side to side, as if to dramatically emphasize his confusion. “Why would you question that there is much more beneath the surface of things?” he asked. “Even the tattoos have meaning.” 

“So what does the dragon mean?” 

“Remember Agamemnon in the Iliad, with the blue dragon on his sword belt and the three-headed dragon on his breast plate?” 

“Uh, no …” I was shaking my head, amused. 

He explained that it represented the supernatural and the infinite and symbolized such things as mastery, energy, insight, clarity, and courage. “It’s a reminder to believe in yourself, fuel your inner fire, trust your inner voice, overcome obstacles, and focus on the positive. It’s about balance, peace, and compassion.” 

“Very nice,” I said, “but I need to set you straight on something. You said I was confused.” 

“I did?” 

“When I made a joke about you flying past my window.” 

“Oh, yes. I remember now.” 

“Well, I know you can’t fly.” 

“But we were imagining that I could.” 

“I was joking!” 

“Would it help if I say I believe you?” 

“Do you?” 

“I choose to trust you. You’ve given me no reason not to.” 

“Are you going to start giving me some answers?” 

“What answers would you want from me?” 

“How about what you really want, for starters, and then all these secrets you are dying to confess.” 

“What do I really want … hmmm. What do you really want?” 

I hesitated. “You know, at first, I was going to say it’s not fair for you to throw that back at me, but the reality is, you try to do the right thing. I make it difficult for you by telling one of your best friends I miss you, and you’re breaking my heart.” 

“Wrong,” he said. “Don’t ever blame yourself for these things. Maybe it was difficult, hearing that you missed me, but it was not because you made it so.” 

“You were trying to tell me something about yourself, and I wouldn’t let you. You were upset then, and I’m sure you’re upset now. You lost a friend who was like a brother to you, and I’m still arguing with you about the window and trying to explain it.” 

“I don’t think you need to explain it.” 

“Why?” 

“Okay, then, if you were to let me in your window, where would I be?” 

“How would I know? You didn’t say which window or what side of the house.” 

“You know. Where would you be? What window would I have to fly through to find you?” 

“I’d be asleep in my bed.” 

“So, I’d be in your bedroom.” 

My heart raced. “Damn, how do you do that? Just like when you asked if I would let you in. I never had to say yes. Do you hypnotize people or something? How did you get me to say that? How do you get me to tell you things I don’t want you to know?” 

“But you do want me to know these things, or you wouldn’t tell me under any circumstances.” 

“Nope, you have dark powers,” I teased. 

“Power isn’t necessarily a manifestation or property of what you refer to as darkness or some Machiavellian plan,” he explained. “It’s the individuals who decide what sort of power they wield, the same way you decide what God you serve.” I doubted he realized how naturally seductive his tone was. “But to answer your initial question, there is no hex on you. I don’t practice spellwork or any other kind of magic. I’m merely a witness to and collaborator of the extraordinary everyday magic of the universe.” 

“Damn you!” 

“Don’t damn me.” 

“Fine. Are you happy then, that you enticed me to say I’d let you into my room?” 

“I am flattered.” 

“Hah! I would resist you anyway. I would fight it with every fiber of my being, and I’d win.” 

“Good.” 

“Why is that good?” 

“Because I’m still a selfish bastard. I’d be lying if I said otherwise.” 

“Yeah, yeah …” 

He spun around quickly, causing me to stop short. He was so close to me I could melt into him. “You’d love me to be dangerous,” he said, “and to corrupt you while you fight me.” Those eyes of his were spellbinding gems that held me captive. I saw the glint of his Viking Wolf Cross, and the silver of his crescent moon pentacle. I was too stunned to speak. 

“You don’t want to play that game with me,” he said. “I won’t stop until I have your soul.” 

This notion excited me every bit as much as it startled me. 

I wondered if he was aware of it—his power and my sudden urge to see that power lorded over me—to see his glorious hair dangling over his shoulders while he danced assiduously inside of me like an untamed savage. I longed to see the tiny spherules of sweat glistening on his bare chest while he took labored, panting breaths, grinding against my body, warming every crevice like the ultimate sex god who knew how to soothe you just a little when the heat of the flames seared your soul. 

I met those seductive eyes with fierce defiance. “You are so dramatic.” 

He smiled. 

“I guess I am that symbol of innocence to you.” 

“Yes and no,” he said. “When I look at you, I see me, and I lost my innocence a lifetime ago.” 

I felt that twinge of emotion, like something swelling inside me. I asked if he knew about Angie and me. 

“What happened?” he asked. 

I gave him the gist of it. “Well, you told me you lost your innocence, too,” I said. “How did you lose yours?” 

“Life. Seeing people suffer tragic fates, among other things, like it seems you have … but what happened with those two guys, Danielle?” 

The words wouldn’t come. 

His hand grazed my arm. “Come, let’s sit.” 

We sat on a wooden bench facing the water. It was quiet and the air was crisp. The wind was a gentle caress. I focused on the waves, a reminder of nature’s beauty and force. Colorful shards glistened in the sand, as if suggesting to me that I could either fade in the darkness or begin to shine in my light. 

“Well, it was after 5:00 p.m.,” I began, “and we were dancing around on the sand, singing along with the boom box, laughing. Guys were checking us out, but that always happens. Phil and Sergio were up on the boardwalk. They never took their eyes off us. They eventually came down from the boardwalk to say hello. Talking to guys who were attractive and interesting was fun to me at the time, as long as they were not aggressive and seemed nice. I didn’t mind. I liked meeting people and felt no obligation to do anything other than talk, tempted or not—and, in this instance, I was not tempted.” 

“Everything you described is normal,” he said, “but it sounds like it was very confusing for you.” 

“Yeah, because I was aware of how they were looking at us. I was not quite used to it. I’m still not. They gave us so many compliments. We were flattered to have all this attention and admiration from these two older men. They invited us on a date to Pleasure Beach, and it sounded like fun, so we gave them our phone numbers.” 

I recalled the wooden swing bridge we took to the island. It led to a parking lot littered with crack vials. I didn’t know what they were, but Angie had asked Phil. 

“They showed us the old structure of the wooden carousel and the playhouse. I loved it, so Phil said he wished they’d brought cameras to take pictures for us. I thought that was really sweet. I never once felt there was a reason to be suspicious. I still had no idea people were not necessarily what they seemed, that they could lie so easily and convincingly. I’ve seen evidence of that since childhood, but it didn’t sink in. They said they were five minutes away and could go get the camera. We could have done without it, but it didn’t sound like a big deal. Why was I so naïve?” 

“You were a kid.” 

Lovely and innocent things like the scent of southern sea lavender and walking on rocks along the beach would remain forever entwined with the memories. 

“On the way back, they wanted to stop at the snack bar,” I continued. “They asked what we wanted. We said yes to sodas. Phil came back with the drinks and handed them out. He had already poked straws through the holes in the tops. We went back to the parking lot. We got in the car and drank our sodas while they drove. They took us to one of the beach cottages. Angie got out and followed them, so I went, too.” I pictured myself sitting on the couch and glancing around, noting that it was a tidy place with a reasonable amount of sunlight and a few thriving plants. “I was terrified that Phil had carted Angie off. I was trying to get up and kept falling back. Sergio was running his fingers through my hair, and telling me I needed to relax. He had a soothing voice, but I was afraid. I tried to get away, but I was lightheaded and stumbled. He caught me. He tried to kiss me then, but I didn’t want to. Then he was carrying me to the bedroom.” 

I explained to Valentin that I was in and out of consciousness, that I’d fought when I was awake, but felt like I was watching someone else fight or listening to someone else cry. I told him how they’d trapped me in a room for hours; how I was screaming, crying, begging, and how I had feared that Angie was dead. I said, “When they took turns trying to force themselves on me, the pain was excruciating.” 

He hugged me for a long time, and I clung to him desperately. 

It was cruel enough—being violated, the fear of not knowing what the ultimate outcome would be, and feeling helpless, not being in control of your mind or your actions. We weren’t able to think clearly, defend ourselves, or get away, but there was more. 

“They could have killed us,” I said. “The drugs alone could have killed us.” 

Valentin released me but held on to my hand.“Their behavior was deplorable,” he said. “There is no excuse or justification for any of it, and you mustn’t blame yourself. Tell me. Was this the reason Angie took her life?” 

I said it was, at the very least, a big part of it. 

He winced. 

“Tommy and Joey knew. One of the reasons they got so mad at Farran was they knew she didn’t believe me about what happened.” 

“Ah, it all makes sense,” he said. “I don’t condone their behavior that night, but I have wondered about her integrity from time to time.” 

“Well, she thought I would have gone to the cops if it was true. Angie wasn’t cooperating, and I knew there wouldn’t be evidence if they examined me.” 

“Why would there not have been evidence?” 

“I fought so hard. They never succeeded in taking my virginity.” 

“Except they did.” 

“What?” 

“If you were locked in a room all that time with two guys—drugged and often unconscious—there is no way you got out of that place with your virginity intact, no matter how hard you fought them.” 

“But there was no blood.” 

“Okay, listen. For lack of a better way to say this, virgins don’t always bleed, and you can’t be sure there wasn’t bleeding at the time. You were out of it.” 

“Then why did I always believe they didn’t? All these months …” 

“You handled the parts you could handle.” 

“Like Angie did.” I shook my head. “And all this time, I’ve been claiming I’m still a virgin.” 

“Consensually, you are.” 

“I never even went to the doctor! I don’t even have that kind of doctor yet.” It was hard not to be angry with myself or feel like an idiot. I was angry with my mother, too, for not talking to me about anything to do with sex, for the subject having been taboo throughout my existence. 

“God, I have to be examined,” I realized. 

“Yes, doll, and tested.” 

I knew what tests he meant. There was much to process, and I hadn’t begun to do that yet, but I would. I’d seen the price of denial, and I couldn’t afford it. 

“Scary as it may be, it’ll give you peace of mind,” he said. 

I began shivering, so he removed his jacket and put it on me. It was as if someone lit a log fire. He warmed my soul. 

“Have you ever met anyone who saw colors?” he asked. “I’m talking about colors that obstruct someone’s view when they appear. They move to different spots. They fade, and then they disappear.” 

I told him I had never heard of that. 

“When I was a child, I thought they were spirits,” he said. “I could still see them with my eyes closed or with my hand shielding my eyes. Nico could never see them. My mother would ask me where they were, and I’d point to them. She took me to a shrink who said it was a kid thing, hallucinating. Not a good shrink. It continued for years.” 

“What was it?” 

“I think it blocked out painful memories.” 

“Of another life?” 

“I never thought of it that way, but the point is, people do what they have to do so they can get through things in life—even if that’s just to survive.” 

“Wow.” I shook my head, amazed. “You know, you and I have some kind of spiritual bond.” 

“Maybe we do.” 

“But then you act like it’s easy to resist what’s going on here. You tell me my words flatter you. Tsk.” 

He stood and put his hand out, and when I slipped my hand into his, he pulled me up gently and faced me. “It is more than flattery,” he said. “I’m honored.” 

“Honored now …” 

He laughed. “If I have your permission to elaborate—” 

“Yes, do.” 

“I’m not immune to your beauty or your charm, Danielle. I have an appreciation of you that grows with every new thing I notice about you. You are a jewel among women. What man would not want you to belong to him completely? You strike me as someone I could lie down with for hours and do nothing but talk. I could hug you all night, laugh with you, and just be happy you’re close. You know what that means to me?” 

“What?” 

“It means we are friends, and that’s more important to me than you realize. I have no doubt anything beyond friendship with you would be amazing, and you may be an old soul, but in this world, you are very young. Besides that, I’m dealing with a difficult situation and working on my issues.” He put his arms around me and kissed my cheek. He seemed to drink me in, every inch of me, with a broad smile, and he let out a sigh. 

An intense desire warmed and titillated me like nothing I had experienced in my young life. I wondered if he was equally tortured, experiencing the same agony. I didn’t want him to release me in that moment, but he did. 

“I never really knew why my instinct was to tell you to be careful,” he said, “but it’s becoming clearer to me.” 

“Is it?” 

“Yes. I know when I told you that, you said you were being careful. It was the second time we spoke.” 

That surprised me. “You remember what I said in our second conversation?” 

“Yes, and everything you’ve said to me in every conversation since. My first instinct was to protect you, and I’m beginning to understand why.” 

“You sensed what happened to me?” 

“No, I think I sensed that you needed something I’ve needed myself for the longest time—someone to comfort you. I’ve learned since, that it is easily confused with other things, the same way this whole fantasy of me being this dark supernatural being becomes entangled with your innate understanding of who I am. There’s a lot we both have to work through. Take time to heal. Get to know yourself. Love yourself again. And, yes, be careful. Your heart is precious. What you want after you heal may be completely different than what you want now.” 

“I don’t think so.” 

“We’re both Scorpios,” he said. “We are doomed.” 

I laughed. “I know you’re kidding when you say that, because you’re not completely sold on the astrology thing, and you don’t like being doomed or damned.” 

“No, I don’t like it at all.” He laughed. 

That hearty laughter seemed to meld with the glorious approval of the crashing waves. It took every bit of restraint in me to resist kissing him then, the way I wanted to kiss him. I wished I could stay right there in his arms for an eternity, or, at least, until sunrise. 

Instead, he walked me back to my car. I gave him his jacket back, wishing I could keep it. I knew the last hug and kiss was goodbye. 

“Adiós, mi amor,” he said to me. “We will meet again.” 

“Valentin …” 

“What?” 

I opened my mouth to speak, and then shook my head. “Be careful.” 

“Always,” he said. 

I wanted to tell him I was completely in love with him, but it would not have been fair to either of us. 

***

Driving past the Cove again, it wasn’t as familiar as it had once been, though ghosts lingered. I’d never imagined nostalgia could be painful, let alone painful to this degree, and at only seventeen. Metaphorically, the actors had taken their final bows. The curtains had closed, and the stage had gone dark. The absences, the betrayals, and the deaths were history. I might have believed it had all been a dream, if not for the way I ached, and for the fact that I was not the same person I’d been seven months ago. Walking away, ending this chapter of my existence, wouldn’t be easy. I was sure I’d play all the old songs we used to hear on the Cove jukebox and cry for a while. But the Cove era had served me well as a distraction from something I hadn’t wanted to face, and I’d created the heroes I’d needed. Perhaps I had become my own hero, too. 

Nonetheless, this group of guys—the Lynx—had unwittingly given me hope at a time when I had lost hope and faith with regard to men. Whatever their flaws, they had consciences. I did idealize them. When they fell, it was hard to absorb and accept. They had seemed so much older, but they were young men trying to grow up in a confusing world—learning, like me. Perhaps all of us were healing and helping one another heal along the way, but I would never forget them, any of them. They would always be special in my heart, helping me to keep hope alive. 

Then there was that lighthouse on the ledge—still anchored a mile off in the New Haven harbor. It continued to shine its formidable light. I could see it now. Perhaps it was telling me something. 

Above all, I needed to face the truth and allow the healing process to begin. Maybe one day I’d see Valentin again, but, for now, I had to restore the peace in my soul, like he was trying to do for himself. He’d been telling me that all along. 

Deadly Veils Book One: Shattering Truths was originally published as Deadly Veils: Book One: Provenance of Bondage copyright © October 2015 by Kyrian Lyndon. The revised edition, Deadly Veils: Book One: Shattering Truths was published in December 2016. Cover design by KH Koehler Design.

THAT DEVOTED GIRL SHATTERED BY YOUR TRUTH IS FREE

I had a dream about you last night and woke up crying. I couldn’t sleep after that.

In the dream, you were angry with me—full of anger, full of hate. You had shut the door on me and left me out in the cold. I kept calling to you with a child’s unbearable anguish. You didn’t hear.

At some point, I cried, “Help me, daddy,” and finally, you came. I thought you were going to hit me or hurt me with your scarred and violent soul, but you didn’t. You hugged me. Well, you didn’t just hug me. You gave me the kind of hug I’d wanted from you since childhood, the comfort I always needed, and I didn’t want to let go.

I miss your smile and your jokes, Dad, your handsome face, and all of your wisdom, but I have to ask. Does a father realize he is the first man a girl gives her heart to completely? The first man she trusts blindly and devotedly? Did you realize?

I used to think I was hard to love.

Whatever people said—men especially—I wanted to believe them. Deep down, I didn’t. Not a word. And every time a man took something from me that I didn’t want him to have, every time a man tried to silence me, belittle me, or make me doubt myself, I punished him, pummeling him with words and crushing him with goodbye. I could be angry with them but not you.

What if things had been different between us, though? Would I had been less vulnerable or had the confidence to be my authentic self, knowing I was worthy and lovable? Would I have chosen more wisely? Would I have stopped running and hiding, oblivious to my weaknesses and my desperate needs? Would I have respected myself more? Might I have found someone I could love, for real? Someone who could have loved me back? Because I didn’t let them … I made sure they couldn’t.

Well, no matter, that’s all changed now. I picked up the shattered pieces of my heart and began to love myself.

It’s hard not to feel that twinge of emotion when I hear father tributes of the heroes who boosted confidence and taught children to believe in themselves. I honestly wish everyone could beam with that pride, feeling safe, content, and protected in that eternal bond.

It’s easy to defeat someone when you have all the power, when you are on a pedestal from the start, and you make all the rules. You can create vulnerability and punish the very same, though you don’t mean it. You can erase one’s humanity because of your denial, your self-loathing, and your shame, though you’re not aware. You can damage a person almost beyond repair. And, after the wrecking ball, cleanup of that wreckage rests solely on those tiny shoulders. Yeah, those shoulders get bigger, but somehow it all gets harder and more complicated.

I cleaned up that mess, though. The void lasts forever, and many people can attest to that, but I got those things I needed. It just takes ongoing effort to hold on to them.

And by the time I had a child of my own, I knew all too well what a child needs. I was able to give him that, but I couldn’t give him YOU. Oh, he’s brilliant and kind and funny, and so very loyal. Like you, he’s hard and strong but with such a tender heart. He needed you, and he still needs you, though he’d never admit it now. He’d been shattered right along with me, but we rose to the challenge, and he loves with his whole heart like I do. I’m proud of him, and I’d like to think you’d be proud of him, too, but it doesn’t matter now.

Look, maybe you didn’t give me what I needed, but you gave what you had. I saw a brave and modest man, generous with assistance and advice—a hero to many, and I know why they love you. I know why I loved you. Sure, it’s easy to love someone when you think they are perfect; when you hold them up on a pedestal and pretend they are everything you need and always wanted. You fell off that pedestal when I was twelve, Dad, but I loved you so much, flaws and all, and I still do. That’s unconditional love, and though you couldn’t give that to me, you still get it. Because guess what? You deserved that, too, from the people who didn’t give it to you.

Yeah, I knew why you were the way you were, though you accepted no excuses from me when I fell short. You could never understand me, but I understood you. Though you couldn’t hear me, yours was the loudest voice I’d heard in my entire life—a voice that continued to bellow in my ear for a lifetime. It kept me from standing up. It kept me from fighting, and it kept me from winning until I did all those things because I couldn’t lose any more. I climbed in spite of you, because of you and for you, because you couldn’t do it yourself, and I understand that.

When you were angry, devastated, and tortured, I tried to tell you it would be okay, that I was sorry for you, and that I loved you, but it seemed too much for you to bear at the time. Then, in the end, I forgave you, and you forgave me. It took a lifetime, but we got there.

Sigh. There are many things we never got to do, Dad, and it’s too late now. You’re gone. But I do have some fond memories of you that I will cherish always.

And here’s what I wish.

I wish I could go back in time with you—to those boyhood days when you were punished severely for no good reason—when you were invalidated, shamed, ridiculed, and ignored, just to tell you how awesome you were, and all you could be and do with your life. I’d say I believe in you, and that you have everything you need to succeed. I would say over and over that I love you to the moon and back, so you would know how worthy you are of that love. And maybe you would have grown up to be what you wanted, and have felt no shame. Then when it was your turn, you could have done the same. You would have known I was not an extension of you and didn’t have to represent you or your ideals. Perhaps you would not have expected such a conformist “go with the flow” type of kid who didn’t make waves but sang to a song you couldn’t possibly hear. You would not have lost empathy. You wouldn’t have cared how others saw me or what they would think. You’d have simply treasured me for the person I am. Imagine that!

The aching in my heart is that I want that for everyone. I wish all men and women who didn’t get what they needed as children would give that and get it back in abundance however they can. And I’m infinitely grateful to every hardworking mom and dad who gets up every day ready and willing to get it all right, including you.

Rest easy, Dad, and know you will always be in my heart.

“Children are the most fearless souls on earth.”― Lailah Gifty Akita, Think Great: Be Great!

Further Reading:

10 Ways Strong Women Move Past Their ‘Daddy Issues’

Why Dads Matter — Especially to Girls

*****

© Copyright May 31, 2016 by Kyrian Lyndon at kyrianlyndon.com

DEADLY VEILS BOOK ONE: SHATTERING TRUTHS – 34

Chapter Thirty-four

T 

here’d been no sign of trouble, no drama, since the fiasco at the Inn and getting home that night, so I’d begun to relax some. Home became my safe haven. After a week of this gratifying peace, however, Joey called with devastating news. Evidently, Gianni had found Tommy unconscious after a heroin overdose. He started CPR immediately but lost him within minutes. 

The news stunned me since, aside from the angel dust episode, I’d never seen Tommy high on drugs. If there had been any sign of him using, I’d missed it. It seemed unfair. It always seems unfair. He was twenty-one, for God’s sake, and had lost so much. 

“Yeah, he had problems with it in the past,” Joey told me. “I didn’t know until he started again recently. I can’t believe it, man.” 

After hanging up the phone, I sat on my bed with my face in my hands, wishing someone would say this was all one never-ending nightmare. 

At the wake, I approached Gianni before anyone else. His eyes were downcast. When he looked up, he seemed to look through me, as if he didn’t recognize me. 

I touched his arm lightly. “Gianni, I’m so sorry for your loss.” 

There was no trace of the smitten Gianni as I pulled him into a hug. He looked battle-weary and bewildered. 

“Good of you to come, pretty lady,” he said. “I appreciate it.” 

“Of course I would come.” 

“He died in my arms, you know.” 

“I’m so sorry.” 

“Yeah, me, too. Thanks, doll.” 

I expressed my condolences to the family members, which included the Lynx gang, and then I knelt before Tommy to say my silent prayer for his soul. Even in the suit they’d dressed him in, he looked too young. I pictured his eyes in all their sincerity, the golden eyes—my fierce little tiger. My heart bled for him, and I could never express to him how sorry I was for his pain. 

As I turned away from the casket, I nearly walked into Liz, donning her smart suit and mid-heel pumps. 

“I forget now,” she said. “Which one are you?” 

I had no doubt she knew exactly who I was. “It’s Danielle. I know you and Tommy were very close. I’m sorry for your loss.” As emotional as I was feeling, I almost wanted to apologize to her for Gianni’s behavior as well. 

“Thank you,” she said smugly. “He was a good-hearted person.” 

“Yes, he was.” 

She looked down now, as if studying my shoes. “Gianni and I broke up months ago—on New Year’s Eve.”She looked up at me again. “I found someone who thinks the world of me, Danielle, and I’d never settle for less. There are no hard feelings with Gianni. He wanted that for me—for me to be happy.” 

I smiled. “That’s great. You deserve that.” 

“Thanks,” she said. “Listen, their aunt just arrived. I need to go over and say hello. You take care now.” 

An arm slipped around me then, someone who had come up from behind—Valentin. 

“I didn’t mean to startle you,” he said when I turned. 

“Oh, no, you didn’t. Are you okay? I know poor Gianni found him …” 

“Yes, I was there. I called 911 while he started CPR.” 

“I’m so sorry.” Aware of the fluttery feeling inside of me , I nervously scraped a hand through my hair. “Can I ask you something?” 

“Of course,” he replied. 

“It was an accident, right?” 

“Yes, it was.” 

Was it better that Tommy didn’t intend to die? Maybe, maybe not, but at least I knew that much, whereas, with Angie, I continued to wonder. 

“Billy was here,” Valentin said. “That made the reality hit.” 

I sympathized. “That must have been hard.” 

“Not harder than anything else. I’d like to make amends to him—not now but eventually.” 

“But you were leaving the bar, after you defended Katharine, and he …” 

“I lost control, Danielle. I’m not proud of it. Anyway, I have to make the rounds here.” 

It was odd how every conversation I had that day seemed to resolve something for me, even the one I had with Joey as he walked me to my car. 

“Everything seems to be falling apart,” I said. “What happens with the Lynx gang now?” 

Joey shrugged. “I don’t know. I doubt there will be a Lynx gang after this. Valentin’s busy. Gianni’s becoming a cop, and now that Nico and I aren’t friends—doesn’t look very promising. But no one else is mad at me besides Nico.” 

“You were pretty mad at him, too,” I recalled. “It sounded like he was accusing you of something.” 

“Something that never happened.” 

“Does he think it did?” 

“Nah, he’s just being a dickhead. I was always close with Shannon. It never bothered him before.” 

“Not until he found out she was keeping that secret about Valentin’s kid. Nico was defending Valentin.” 

“And himself. He doesn’t trust easy. I think it scared him that he was falling for Shannon, caring more than he wanted to. Then give him a reason to think he’s gonna end up getting played, and he wants out.” 

“Okay, so how is that different from what you did to Farran? You didn’t trust Farran, but you used her and then humiliated her. At least Nico trusted Shannon for the time he stayed with her.” 

“Farran teases.” he said. “Did you know she cornered Valentin not long ago and begged him to take advantage of her? Yeah, I’m not supposed to know about that, but Nico told me. She acts like she’s not afraid, but she can’t make up her mind from one minute to the next. I don’t blame her for that, but, by the end of it, she was acting like a child, and I was all out of restraint. I didn’t want to push her, so I kicked her out. I wish I could say I waited for her to powder her nose and escorted her back to her friends, because, really, I wish I could have done that. I wish I was a more patient person, but I’m not. She wasn’t far from the Cove. I knew she’d be all right, but I’m your brother, and you thought the worst of me in this situation. You felt the need to come to her rescue against me. How ‘bout you take your friend and find someplace else to hang out where you’re not in over your little heads?” 

“You don’t have to worry about that,” I shot back.“I don’t have any more friends, and I won’t be hanging out wherever you do.” 

“You’re not friends with Farran?” 

“Are you kidding?” 

“Good,” he said.“Because I can’t stand her.” 

Frustrated, I sighed heavily. “I still think treating her like that just because she changed her mind is wrong, and I hope you realize that.” 

“I walked away!” he shouted. “Maybe I didn’t do it like a gentleman would, but I walked away!” 

“Okay, but if you knew she wasn’t my friend, and she was trashing me, why were you fooling around with her in the first place?” 

“I didn’t know she was trashing you.” His voice was still loud and intimidating.“I just knew I didn’t trust her as far as you were concerned. Tommy felt the same way, and the first time she trashed you to him, he ended things with her! Look, I’m sorry any of it happened. If I could change it, I would.” 

“I believe you,” I said, fighting back tears. My instinct was to hug him, and he hugged back tight, as he always did. 

***

When I arrived at the funeral, Joey was with Gianni, Valentin, and Nico. The four of them, along with two other pallbearers, carried Tommy’s flag-draped casket into the church. It began the swell of emotion in me. Gianni was in his marine uniform. 

Farran already had a seat in the pews when I entered. 

At different points, they played “Morning Has Broken” by Cat Stevens, then “Bridge Over Troubled Water” by Simon and Garfunkel. The songbird and lyricist in me wept from my soul. 

Gianni delivered the eulogy. Liz did a reading, and, lastly, during an operatic rendition of Schubert’s “Ave Maria,” the pallbearers carried the casket out of the church. 

Farran and I spoke briefly outside. We hugged, crying. She had to go to work, but I followed the limos and motorcycles to the burial site. 

A procession of bikers arrived ahead of the flag-draped casket. It was a clear day, like most days that March. I heard the ever-present crows, and watched the honor guards’ salute before they carried Tommy’s casket to his grave. An honor guard lifted the flag and held it over the casket. There was another salute before, “Attention. Ready. Aim.” I heard three shots and then “Taps,” followed by a salute from the bugler. The honor guard folded the flag, carrying out every detail of the ceremony with amazing precision and dedication. One of them held the folded flag over his heart, and then all of them touched it before another gave the salute. An officer knelt before Gianni and a woman I knew to be both Tommy and Gianni’s grandmother. He said something about presenting the flag on behalf of the Department of the Air Force and a grateful nation for Tommy’s faithful and dedicated service. 

I’d always had an impassioned awe for pomp and circumstance, but this ceremony stirred me profoundly. I was a soldier’s daughter with such a deep, complicated love for my father. I had also become the unlikely friend of another soldier who’d endeared himself to me at a critical time in my life.  

Wiping my tears now, I could feel Valentin’s eyes on me. At the end, he came and hugged me, and I squeezed him tighter than I’d ever had. 

“At some point, I need to talk to you,” I said. 

The timing seemed all wrong, but he had offered to lend an ear after Angie had died. I knew he was also in pain, and I wanted to do the same for him. Besides all of that, we had something to resolve. It might have been my last chance, since it was possible that I’d never see him again. 

He glanced around. “Gianni’s having a very small gathering for friends and relatives. I need to be there.” 

“Oh, of course,” I said, feeling foolish. 

He looked at me. “What are you doing later?” 

I wished I could silence my heart with its tumultuous pounding. 

We agreed to meet at 6:00 p.m. and settled on a spot in East Haven near the beach. Still paranoid about my stalkers, I told Joey what I had planned and asked if I could stay at his house that night. I knew he’d be home, watching a game, and that he lived ten minutes away from the designated meeting place. 

“Of course you can,” Joey said. “But if, for any reason, you decide you’re not coming, call me.” 

I smiled. “What reason would that be?” 

“Never mind,” he said. “I trust him to do the right thing, whatever that is.” 

Deadly Veils Book One: Shattering Truths was originally published as Deadly Veils: Book One: Provenance of Bondage copyright © October 2015 by Kyrian Lyndon. The revised edition, Deadly Veils: Book One: Shattering Truths was published in December 2016. Cover design by KH Koehler Design.

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DEADLY VEILS BOOK ONE: SHATTERING TRUTHS – 33

Chapter Thirty-three

I 

t was about the third week in March when Farran told me she’d come close to losing her virginity to Tommy. She said they ended up arguing over something unrelated, so it didn’t happen. 

When I pulled into the Cove parking lot that night, Tommy and Nico sped in on their bikes and pulled up alongside me. They invited us to the Meadowside Inn and led the way as I followed. 

The Inn was beautifully eerie, and the nearby beach looked inviting. It was dark and chilly, but we had seen the last of the winter snow. The streets had cleared, and spring was days away.  

Valentin was behind the bar when we walked in. Farran rushed to hug and squeeze the stuffing out of him, leaving him to smile affectionately like a pet had ambushed him or a child. 

After kissing me hello, he held my hands together in his. “How are you doing?” he asked. 

I told him I had taken on writing and editing our senior newspaper, as well as contributing poems for every edition. It was true. I needed the focus. 

He said that was great, along with whatever else I asked him. Daytona was great. The kids were great. He and Katharine had separated, and he was sharing a place in Greenwich with Nico and another guy. He also said he hadn’t picked up a drink since the night of the fight with Billy, though he was bartending one or two nights a week. 

“Is it wise for you to be pouring drinks?” I had to ask. “Aren’t you tempted?” 

The question seemed to amuse him. “Sometimes,” he said, “but it strengthens my resolve. It’s not something I would recommend to anyone I sponsor down the road, but it’s been therapeutic. I see the other side of it, and it’s a powerful reminder.” He asked what we wanted, and I ordered a soda. Farran tried for a Gin Rickey and got a soda as well. 

“God, I love him!” Farran gushed as we settled in a booth with our drinks. “I think he’s wearing Creed. It’s scrumptious on him. I’m making my move on him tonight, just going for it. I’m telling you, that man is a god.” Her eyes sparkled, and her grin was as wide as her face. “Hey, you know, I ran into someone from my church this morning, and she said the world was going to end today. Not kidding. She really believes that, and, whether it’s true or not, I ain’t wasting time.” She laughed. 

Tommy slipped into the seat next to me. “‘Sup?” he said. 

It was as if they all descended upon us. Gianni surfaced from the pool table in the back, ready to sit beside Farran, and she stood to let him slide in. 

Nico shoved at Gianni. “Move over.” 

Farran sat down next to Nico. 

“Yeah, have a seat,” I told them all. “The world’s going to end tonight. Farran’s church friend told her.” 

Nico said, “They’ve been saying that since the beginning of time.” Our eyes met, and he held my gaze, looking intrigued and maybe a bit curious. It could have been my imagination, but I think he was wondering if I had meant what I’d said to him. 

Gianni shouted over to Valentin at the bar. “V, sit down, man, the world is gonna end tonight.” When Valentin looked over, Gianni said, “Oh, if I know Valentin, he knew about this already.” 

Tommy laughed. “He got a psychic revelation.” 

“Better serve those drinks up a little faster,” Nico said. “And seek deliverance!” 

I think Farran was the only one who didn’t get the deliverance part, but she laughed with us. 

I saw Valentin laughing, too. He said, “I don’t know what the hell you guys are talking about, but, by all means, enjoy the end.” 

It made them laugh more. 

Tommy continued to joke. “How does this church lady know? Memo from God? It would have been in the paper.” 

“How is it going to end?” Nico asked. “We need the details.” 

“Maybe it’ll just blow up,” I said. 

Nico winked at me, dazzling me with a smile. “It’s good to see you’re okay.” 

I felt embarrassed and thanked him for what he’d done. 

“I did nothing,” he replied. 

Gianni looked at me. “Hey, if this world’s gonna blow, you can come home with me tonight. It won’t matter, and we won’t have another chance.” 

I couldn’t stop laughing. I did ask him where Liz was, and he shrugged. I felt Valentin’s eyes on me, but when I looked back, he shifted his gaze and walked down the bar to tend to a customer. 

That’s when things began to get crazy. 

Joey came in with Katharine and Shannon. Though the greetings all around seemed polite enough, I could see Nico wasn’t happy that Katharine and Shannon were there. I caught a glimpse of Valentin, and while he may not have been thrilled, he seemed to take it in stride. 

Joey spent the next half hour playing pool and drinking beer with Shannon while Katharine lingered at the bar. At some point, Joey came over with his beer. He pulled the material of Farran’s plunging neckline and poured the beer down her top. 

She jumped up and began screaming at him. “Joey!” 

It seemed Tommy was trying not to laugh. 

Gianni yelled, “Hey!” 

Nico shook his head, and Valentin came over with napkins. 

“Why’d he do that?” Farran asked, wiping herself with the napkins. 

Valentin brushed her cheek with his hand. She collapsed into his arms and clung to him. 

“Why did you do that?” Valentin asked Joey as he held Farran. 

Joey did not answer or even flash a smile. 

Valentin looked at Nico. “What’s with him?” 

“No clue,” Nico replied. 

Everyone was standing around now. Shannon and Gianni began chastising Joey. 

“Why can’t you leave her alone?” I asked my brother. 

“I don’t know why you’re mad at me!” he bellowed. “She’s a bitch to you.” 

“You’re calling my friend a bitch now?” 

“She’s not your friend,” he replied. 

“What’s that supposed to mean?” 

“I don’t trust her.” 

Tommy said, “He did that for you.” 

My eyes widened. “For me? Please don’t do things like that for me.” 

Farran backed away from Valentin, in tears now. “What have I done to Danielle? I said some things when I was mad, just as I’m sure everyone does when they’re upset.” 

“That’s not all you’ve done,” Tommy said. “Try being there when your friend needs you and not bad rap her every chance you get.” He looked at me. “She’s jealous of you.” 

“Jealous? Why would I be jealous?” Farran’s tone was bitter now. “I have no reason to be jealous of her. Jealousy isn’t the only reason women are put off by each other, but, of course, that’s what you guys would think. Come on, it’s not like she’s Cindy Crawford.” 

“Okay, this ends here,” Valentin said. “Joey, you need to leave—and Tommy, I love you, man, but if you can’t let this go, you’re going to have to leave, too.” 

“Oh, and by the way, Danielle’s been very sneaky,” Farran went on. “She’s great at playing Little Miss Innocent. Meanwhile, she turned out to be the backstabber.” She looked at me. “I know exactly who you’re after. Just don’t come off like this innocent little prude.” 

My head was spinning, my heart pounding. “What the hell is your problem?” I shouted. 

“Maybe I’ve just outgrown you, Danielle,” she said.“Or maybe this town just ain’t big enough for the both of us.” 

That prompted a mirthless laugh from me. “What’s next? Leave town before sundown or else? I’m not going anywhere, so maybe you should start packing.” I couldn’t believe she actually said that—that the town wasn’t big enough for both of us. 

The others laughed at the absurdity, but none of it was funny to me. 

“She should make you walk back to Hartford,” Joey said to Farran.“Or you could always hitch.” 

Nico spoke up. “I will say this, Joey: You need to have some respect. Whatever’s going on with these two girls, that’s between them. Besides, this is Valentin’s space not Billy’s—our place of refuge—since they barred him from the Cove. You know better than to come here with those two.” 

“Shannon has friends here,” Joey argued, “including me.” 

“We just came to say hello,” Shannon interjected in the gentlest tone. “I miss you, Nico. I think about you. Is that a crime?” 

I could see how Nico stiffened then, how the light disappeared from his eyes. “Really? It seems your boy toy here provided you with plenty of comfort. You chose to cozy up to my friend, so live with it. If there was ever any hope of reconciliation, it’s gone now.” 

“Bullshit!” Joey shouted. “You did not want to reconcile with her. You had no intention of doing that, and you know it.” 

“Joey, you’re not helping,” Katharine said with a smile, pushing him back gently with her hand. 

“And why do you know these things?” Nico asked. “Because you were a brother, and you betrayed me. You wanted her, now you got her.” 

“It ain’t like that,” Joey replied. 

Tommy said, “Is there a bad moon rising or full moon or something like that?” 

Shannon’s only concern seemed to be Nico. “If I had known you wanted to reconcile …” 

Nico clenched his teeth. “Lies. You still believed we could reconcile. You believe it now. Well, it ain’t gonna happen.” 

“It was never gonna happen,” Joey barked. 

Shannon went to grab Nico’s arm, but he recoiled from her like she disgusted him. 

Joey got a grip on him. Nico threw his arms up, freeing himself from Joey’s grip like it was child’s play. 

Valentin intervened now. “Okay, this party’s over. Put down the horns and balloons and get your goody bags at the door.” He looked at me. “Dani, if you are not comfortable driving Farran home, I’ll get someone to take her. Anyone else hell-bent on fighting needs to leave.” 

“I’ll take Farran home,” I said aloud. “Unless she’d rather walk.” 

Valentin laughed then shifted his gaze to her. “Would you rather walk?” 

“No,” she said. “Thanks, Dani.” 

“I’m leaving,” Joey announced. He pointed a finger at Nico. “I do love you like a brother, man, but Shannon’s a really good person. She never deserved the way you treated her.” 

“Maybe not,” Nico responded, “but many of her actions showed a blatant disregard for me.” 

“Oh, boohoo!” Katharine replied. “She swallowed her pride, apologized to you, begged you, I don’t know how many times, and she loves you more than you deserve, Nico! You watched her cry her eyes out and walked away with not an ounce of sympathy. That’s not how you treat the woman you claim to love.” 

He glared at Katharine, his eyes cold. “She loves me more than I deserve? She had no problem lying to me that she didn’t know Valentin was the father of that little girl until Valentin and I knew—months after my niece was born. If you hadn’t told my brother the truth, she never would have told me.” 

Katharine yelled, “My family threatened to take my daughter away from me if either of us told! I ended up telling Valentin anyway, because I love him. He understands that, so what’s it to you?” 

“What’s it to me?” Nico seemed furious. “My brother’s child. My niece. Up until December, your cousin here was still telling me she found out when I did. Once the truth was out, I asked her how long she knew. She looked right into my eyes and lied. Now she keeps calling my house, coming to my door. She charges at Valentin every time she sees him to ask where I am. I moved on. And she needs to do the same.” 

Shannon shook her head and then turned to me, her eyes glistening with tears. “Are you okay, hon?” 

I nodded, and she gave me a tight hug before leaving with Katharine and Joey. 

Tommy pulled me aside and handed me a slip of paper with the license plate number of Phil’s Cutlass. “Been getting the 411 on those two,” he said. “If you see them anywhere, give it to the cops. Otherwise, they’re holding you hostage, man.” 

I promised I would, then slipped the piece of paper into my bag and thanked him. 

“Doll, I care about you,” he said. “I didn’t mean to come down so hard on Farran, but that’s the reason. I care more than you know. You’re a special lady, and that’s all I’m gonna say.” He looked sincere and perhaps vulnerable. 

“Same here,” I replied. “You’ve become special to me, too.” I hugged him. 

Farran apologized to me on the way to the car. 

“I’m sorry, too,” I told her. “I wasn’t honest about Valentin. All is not fair in love and war after all, is it? None of this is fair. I had no control over how I felt. I felt guilty, and it would have turned out to be a mess no matter what I did or didn’t do.” 

She said nothing, and all was quiet as we got in the car and fastened our seatbelts. Then I questioned why she claimed to love Valentin yet wanted to stake her claim to every cute guy. 

“It’s easy for you,” she said. “You show up, and you could have any one of them. I just want a chance at something! As for Valentin, yes, I do love him. I’d give up anything and anyone for him in a heartbeat. Doesn’t matter, though. I hate to say it, and I can’t believe I’m going to, but I’ve seen the connection between you and him from the start.” 

I pulled out of the parking lot, shaking my head. 

“Well, he’s clearly more interested in you than me—or anybody, for that matter,” she said. 

“No, he isn’t,” I told her. “He needed a friend like I’ve needed a friend.” 

“Well, he has friends. You both have friends. Something tells me it ain’t over—for you, anyway. I don’t think I’d ever be welcomed back at the Inn, and, even if I were, I don’t know if I could face them.” 

“Let me ask you something, though. After all this, would you still want to sleep with Joey or Tommy?” 

“Well, before tonight, if I had another chance, yeah,” she said.“But I’m done with all of this, Dani, and I don’t blame anyone. Joey loves you. He’s protective of you. Tommy—that boy is just on overload, and when he cares about someone and thinks someone’s trying to harm them, he comes out guns blazing. I do worry about him. I think he’s had a hard time being strong about his dad, his brother, and everything. He’s been through a lot. To be perfectly honest, I think they’re all on overload. Nico could have ripped your brother to shreds back there, though I can’t say who would have won. They all have their demons, and Valentin may be the only one winning that battle right now, but they seem like they’re at a point in their lives where they’ve just about had it, young as they are. I feel like my life’s just beginning. Yours, too. I mean, you have a bright future to look forward to, with or without V.” After a brief silence, she added, “You know, there’s this place in East Hartford we could go to.” 

I knew two things in that moment: I was never going to be a patron at the Cove or the Inn again, and I wasn’t going to this place in East Hartford. It was enough drama already, enough jealousy and competition, enough fighting and craziness. Farran had it in her to be a good friend; I’d seen that. Deep down, she was a kind person who’d grown up needing to be strong and having to prove herself. We didn’t see eye to eye on everything, and maybe she’d never liked me as much as I’d liked her, but that wasn’t entirely her fault. I had yet to begin liking myself, and maybe I was on overload, too. There was an unrelenting anguish in the realization that I had lost her—if I’d ever had her at all. I wouldn’t call her anymore. I promised myself that. When she called, wanting to go somewhere, I’d make up excuses until she got tired of asking. 

As for my dear Valentin, my heart ached, but there wasn’t a damned thing I could do about it. 

The long ride home seemed absurd now. We had ventured out of our way all these months, and the result was pain and humiliation. The goodbye at Farran’s house was awkward, and once alone in the dark, I was a bundle of nerves. This night seemed darker than past nights along these roads. It was clear, with a sliver of a moon. When I passed Addison Park, a place of innocent love for me, I saw merely a place where crickets chirped and strangers loitered—no longer familiar or mine. After three miles on CT-94 E, along Hebron, I passed Angie’s house, and I knew I didn’t want to wallow in this misery. The lights were still on, a warm and comforting reminder of Zuza and my uncle Dom likely dozing off watching TV. It reminded me, too; I had been the lucky one. I’d learned some lessons and was free to move on, start over, and make my dreams come true. 

I turned onto the final isolated, tree-lined road, and there was the black Cutlass parked on the side of the street. I saw Sergio and Phil in the car and made the startling conclusion that my tendency to panic would be the death of me in any crisis. They are just guys, I told myself. Cowardly guys. You could even get out of the car and tell them to fuck off, and they won’t do shit. And what can they do to you if you don’t get out of the car? Nothing. You can drive to the end of the long road where your house is and make a run for the door, screaming, or stay in the car and honk the horn like a maniac. What could they do? I knew there was good reason to fear strangers in the dark, and there was a particular reason to fear these men, but my perception had become so distorted that I no longer trusted my instincts. Nor was I clear on what people might consider a normal reaction. I had this bizarre idea that they could turn out to be monsters after all—homicidal maniacs ready to kill my whole family. 

Fear paralyzed me. It was enough already. Tommy was right. I needed an end to this madness. 

I turned the car around and drove to the police station. They followed, passing me once, and then they switched lanes, ending up behind me again. I had a shaky grasp on the wheel. My heart pounded predictably. I couldn’t believe I had chosen this option when I was closer to home, but it felt right in that moment. 

Three cops were outside the station when I pulled over. Phil had turned down another street. I got out of the car and approached the police officers, bracing myself for the typical male reaction of seeing an attractive girl. I told them about the stalking, the calls, and that I feared for my safety. They looked me up and down a number of times and asked a lot of questions, including why I was out alone at night, where I’d been, how I knew these guys, and how they’d gotten my address and phone number. 

“Did they get out of the car any of the times you saw them?” one officer asked. “Did either of them roll the window down, say anything? What do you think they were planning to do?” 

I had to admit they did nothing, but I believed they were waiting for an opportunity to grab me. 

After giving them the license plate information, one of the cops made a crack that I’d probably just had a tiff with my boyfriend. Another told me, in a fatherly manner, to be careful and travel with at least one other girl when going out at night. 

They kindly offered to follow me back to my house and said they’d look around for the car. I thought about telling them the whole story, but the more I thought about it, the more I realized how crazy it all sounded. I felt crazy, like someone had been gaslighting me. 

Deadly Veils Book One: Shattering Truths was originally published as Deadly Veils: Book One: Provenance of Bondage copyright © October 2015 by Kyrian Lyndon. The revised edition, Deadly Veils: Book One: Shattering Truths was published in December 2016. Cover design by KH Koehler Design.

DEADLY VEILS BOOK ONE: SHATTERING TRUTHS – 32

Chapter Thirty-two

I 

t was hard to contain my anger at times. Singing in my room was a great release. When I went shopping at the mall, I couldn’t look at all the people or deal with their energy. I felt caged and like I needed to bolt. 

Robbie and I talked about it on the phone. 

“Wear shades to the mall,” he said. “It helps.” 

He had spent half of spring break in Orlando. Joey had gone to see him, and they were together at Disney World. Joey was staying in Orlando with plans to meet up with the Lynx gang in Daytona for Bike Week. I was picking Robbie up at Bradley Airport to bring him home for a few days. On the way, we talked about his visit with Joey. He said it was great the first couple of days, but then they started getting on each other’s nerves. 

Later that day, while we were sitting on the bed in my room, I told him about the uncovered movie clip where he was seen attacking me in my playpen. 

He said, “What was I, two, when that happened?” 

“I know. The thing that surprised me was her saying it never happened.” 

He shook his head. “So they had no clue how to prepare one kid for another kid. They leave them unsupervised, and then smack the older baby for hitting the new baby. That’s the thing that gets me—all the secrecy and the lies. Like, for them, the natural thing to do is cover things up, lock things, deny things. Why?” 

“You’re going to think I’m crazy,” I said, “but you know what I think?” 

“What?” 

“They don’t do that because they’re hiding dead bodies or anything like that. They are ashamed of who they are, especially her, and they’re ashamed of getting things wrong, being seen as wrong or bad.” 

I brought up something I hadn’t thought about in years—my hospital stay when I was four years old. I had begun the conversation innocently, though some gut feeling may have prompted it. 

“I couldn’t have been there a week, but it seemed like forever,” I recalled. “They brought me a Furga doll, Little Adrianna, and I kept her with me every minute. Even when I was sleeping, I held her.” 

It all came back to me. The old hospital building with its dramatic baroque exterior looked like an entire kingdom to me, dwarfing the beautifully landscaped flowers and the trees in its midst. Through the lens of my childhood eyes, it was a symbol of power and magnificence. I had developed a love for that type of design, but an aversion to everything I’d found beyond those doors. 

“We gotta leave you here,” my father had said in the gentlest of tones. “The nurses and doctors will take care of you. We’ll come back for you.” 

“Where are you going?” I asked. 

“We’re going to buy candy.” He winked. 

“Why can’t I go with you?” 

“You have to stay here,” my mother said. “Wait for us.” 

I knew something was wrong. Her skin was pale. When I reached for her hand, it was trembling. She seemed reluctant to walk away. 

My father took her arm. 

“Please, Mommy, Daddy, no!” I screamed, tears clouding my vision. “Don’t leave me here. Please don’t leave me!” 

My mother turned, and I saw she also had tears. My father steered her onward. I cannot imagine the agony they’d endured, as they continued to disappear from my view. They turned back only one time to wave goodbye to me. 

I would not go willingly with the nurses. I wanted to wait for my parents right there in that spot. They tried taking hold of my arm, but I pulled it away. I became hysterical. They could not calm or console me. They lifted me from the floor and injected me with a needle. I had little time to react to the sting of this jolting ambush. The nurse who carried it out hurled me into a bed with bars around it. She sounded mean. I continued to cry hysterically, and, within seconds, I was asleep. 

I awoke to a sea of beds and lab coats as white as the walls. The uncompromising uniformity and blinding fluorescents would remain etched in my memory for a lifetime. The atmosphere was purely clinical—no color, no vibrancy, and with an abhorrent stench of metallic odors, bitter antiseptics, and foods with unpleasant aromas. It was noisy, too—loud voices, rolling carts, the clanging and clamor from the streets of Manhattan’s Lower East Side. 

I remember calling out for my parents. 

A nurse delivered my meal tray, lowering the guardrails. “Your Mommy and Daddy are not here,” she said. “I’m sure they’ll be visiting soon.” 

If there was anything other than a cup of tea on that tray, I didn’t see it. Rage blinded me. 

“It would be good for you to drink a little,” the nurse coaxed. I refused to look at her. 

“I don’t like tea,” I scoffed. Why wasn’t it good for me to drink orange juice the way I normally did? In my attempt to push the tray away, I knocked over the teacup. 

She scolded me while cleaning the spill. 

I raised my knees and rested my chin on them, at the same time clasping them tight to my chest. I held on to my defiance a moment longer, and then rocked vigorously back and forth in an effort to drown out her voice. Whatever I dreamt about in that place, I woke screaming. 

In the hospital playroom, another child’s plate of food ended up on the floor. I was responsible. They isolated and sedated me again. Later, a nurse offered to take me to the bathroom, but I refused. The bandaging over my left eye made it difficult to see, and I was afraid. I sat coloring in my chair, as best I could with one eye. 

“I see we ate all our vegetables today,” a cheerful, friendly voice announced. I hadn’t heard that voice before. When I looked up, a tall black man sat on the edge of my bed. I can’t remember anything we talked about, but I dropped my guard. 

“I have to go to the bathroom,” I said. 

“Come on.” He held out his hand. “I’ll walk down there with you and wait right outside.” 

I reached for his hand and held it as I stood. 

With the bandaged eye, it seemed as if we were taking a long walk through a darkened passageway. Of course, the walk was not long, and we were under the glare of the brightest fluorescents. Once in the bathroom, I hurried, afraid he might disappear if I took very long. Upon opening the door, I was relieved to find he was still there. He brought me back to my room. 

He might have been a nurse or a doctor; I don’t know, but he was especially kind to me throughout my stay, and he gave me hope in a traumatic time. Funny, he would never know that, and I would never know his name. 

“When Mommy and Daddy visited with Grandma, they said Zuza was taking care of you and Joey,” I told Robbie now. “I wanted to know when I was going home. Mommy said you and Joey were asking her the same thing every day—especially you.” 

“I prayed for you every night,” he said. 

“Yeah, Mommy told me that.” I smiled. 

“When they told me you were going into the hospital, they wouldn’t say why. They made it seem like a big, dark secret, and they seemed so ashamed. I was terrified you were never coming home. I thought something was seriously wrong with you, and I thought it was my fault.” 

“Your fault? How could it be your fault? I had a problem with my eyes. I needed surgery.” 

“You had a problem with your eyes after you fell down the stairs. I think you were unconscious. They called for help and were told not to move you. You went to another hospital first, in an ambulance.” 

I had a weird flashback of blinking lights in my eyes, which could have been any number of things. 

“Grandma said you had seizures.” 

My eyes widened. “You were there when I fell? Where was Joey?” 

“I was there. Joey was in the house, but he wasn’t at the scene.” 

“Why didn’t you ever tell me? Why didn’t Joey?” 

“They said not to say anything, to leave it alone, since you never remembered. I didn’t know what would happen if I told you. They made it seem like it was the worst thing in the world we could do. Do you see why I hate this lying shit?” 

“I have to ask them about it.” 

“Don’t say I told you.” 

“What am I supposed to say, then?” 

“I don’t know, that you remembered.” 

“Do you think one of them was responsible for making me fall and feels guilty?” 

“No. I caused it. I didn’t want a baby sister. I wanted to be the baby.” 

I clenched my teeth. “You were a kid, and one thing had nothing to do with the other.” 

“No, I was mad at her for hitting me and being so mean to me because she was always protecting you. She would get so mad with that evil hate in her eyes. It was me, Dani. I held you over the banister, and I pushed you over it. I can still picture your face in that moment, how scared you were. I watched you fall, and I saw our mother’s eyes go dead. She blinked like she had checked out for a minute and then came back again. She started screaming.” 

To an extent, I had grown accustomed to outlandish revelations and witnessing the bizarre, but I believe on some level, I already knew this. 

“I thought you were dead,” he said, “that I killed you. Dad said there was a minute you weren’t breathing.” 

“You were a child—a little boy in your first years of school.” 

“I’m so sorry.” He hugged me. 

“It was obvious you didn’t want me around,” I told him. “Even after all that, to be honest, you seemed more accepting of Tommy’s vision of me. When I met your friends, you didn’t seem too happy that they didn’t find me to be ‘retarded,’ as you once put it, or repulsive, or weird. It upset you that they thought I was cute.” 

“No, I was relieved that you were normal, that you seemed normal to them.” 

“You didn’t seem relieved.” 

“I was. Believe me. I may have been confused, but I knew that was a good thing.” 

“And Joey knew about all this?” 

“Not at first. He knew you fell, but up until a year ago, he thought it was an accident. I told him the truth.” 

“What’d he say?” 

“Not much. He was shocked. I don’t think he knew what to do with it. He still doesn’t, and our parents will always blame me.” 

“They don’t blame you, Robbie. They love you! She hid that movie, just like they hid the truth about what happened because, in her own weird way, she was protecting you. They were both protecting you. They all were, really, even Grandma, and I’m sure if Grandma knows, Dom and Zuza know. Did Angie know, too?” 

“No, not Angie. Grandma blamed our mother because it was even possible for that to happen. It’s another reason why she hates her.” 

“Well, it’s over! I loved you then. I love you now. I will always love you and be here for you.” 

He smiled. “I love you, too, Dan, and I’ll make it up to you. I’ll always help you in any way I can.” 

“Hey, you already helped me,” I said. “Thanks for the tip about the shades.” I grabbed my Ray-Bans from the dresser and put them on. 

We laughed. 

Deadly Veils Book One: Shattering Truths was originally published as Deadly Veils: Book One: Provenance of Bondage copyright © October 2015 by Kyrian Lyndon. The revised edition, Deadly Veils: Book One: Shattering Truths was published in December 2016. Cover design by KH Koehler Design.