Trixie stared at Lloyd
with wide eyes for a moment, and then pointed a shaky finger at him. “Did ya…uh, did ya just get ten times more
competent and serious?”
Lloyd nodded
slowly. “You would have me act a fool if
it meant a person’s life was on the line?”
“Well, no, but…yer
kinda scarin’ me, pal. What’s with that
look on yer face all o’ a sudden? And what
about you sayin’ you’ll ‘never fail someone again’?”
Lloyd opened his mouth
to speak -- but before he could, Trixie held up a hand. “N-nah, forget I said anythin’. It ain’t my place to go pryin’ in all yer
affairs, ya know? I mean, I still barely
know ya. And I ain’t about to make ya
say somethin’ ya don’t wanna.”
“Nobody’s gonna try and
hold a ruler to ya, pal,” Trixie muttered, stroking the back of her neck.
“A shame. Were they to actually measure my resolve,
doubtless they’d have an exemplar for their own practices.”
Trixie nodded, but
stopped in mid-motion and began shaking her head rapidly. “L-look, we got somethin’ more important to
do, remember? Yer little brother’s still
out there somewhere with Gaston. And who
knows what he’ll do to him if we don’t save him?” She paused for a moment before shaking her
head again. “Wait a minute, what the
hell am I sayin’? We need to get the
police involved, or some o’ the townsfolk, or somebody. This ain’t exactly the kinda thing three
people can handle alone.” She sprang up
from the kitchen table and strode toward the wall-bound telephone. “I’ll see if I can --“
“Miss Walters. Please, don’t call the police.”
Trixie’s hand froze a
half-foot away from the phone. “What’s yer
deal? Can’t ya try and do somethin’ that
makes sense for once?” she asked,
turning a heated gaze on Lloyd.
But Lloyd didn’t look
back at her. He just kept staring ahead,
out the window and toward the sky, while Trixie had the pleasure of examining
the back of his head. “This is something
that I need to do. I need to handle this
situation on my own, to prove myself capable of realizing my aims. I cannot, in good faith, involve anyone more
than absolutely necessary; though I have you by my side -- and believe you me,
I appreciate your company -- bringing you into the folds of what may bloom into
a tragedy is a regret I’ll likely carry into my death bed.”
“Lloyd --”
“I have a certain duty,
Miss Walters. And of course, I intend to
uphold it with every ounce of strength I can muster.”
Trixie’s hand hovered
in the air, her fingers twitching for a chance to seize the phone. But after a
minute of silence between them, she dropped her hand and walked back toward the
seat across from Lloyd.
“I see. So you’ll cooperate with me after all?” Lloyd gave her another terse smile. “Then I believe that our first course of action
is --”
Ka-SLAM!
Trixie hammered the
table with her palms, and with enough force to blow a gale through the
kitchen. “What the hell are ya talkin’
about?” she demanded, leaning forward to make her glare even fiercer. “’Certain duty’? ‘Prove myself capable’? ‘On my own’?
I knew ya had a screw or two loose in that purple head o’ yours, but I
never thought it was this bad!” She reached across the table and tugged Lloyd
by his shirt. “Yer brother’s been
kidnapped. He’s in danger. Ya really think ya can save the day all on
yer own? Ya almost keeled over just
runnin’ back to yer house! And ya nearly
killed yerself tryin’ to swim! Don’t go
actin’ like a hero when yer such a screw-up!”
“But I --”
“Shut yer hole and think!
What’re ya gonna do if ya catch up to Gaston and he tries smashin’ ya
with some walls? What’re ya gonna do if
that crazy grandma points a gun at yer head?
What can ya do? Hold their hands and make ‘em feel nice?” She pushed Lloyd back in his chair -- so hard
that he toppled over -- and folded her arms.
“It’s good that ya wanna be a hero.
Real nice of ya. But don’t act
like ya can save the day when ya haven’t done a single thing to prove
yerself.“ She sighed heavily. “Don’t go tryin’ to be somethin’ yer
not.”
Lloyd stayed in his
seat -- even after being tipped over -- and stared blankly at the ceiling. “I should have expected no less from the
fairer sex,” he said, managing a weary smile.
“What’re ya --”
“You’re right, Miss
Walters. You’re absolutely right. I haven’t done anything to warrant my reckless
heroism. Anything at all.” He kept his eyes locked on the ceiling, and
his body eerily still. “I started this
day hoping to use my power to bring about a revolution of the heart. And yet, all I have to show for my efforts are
a trio of disappointments, mishaps by the dozen, and the lessened well-being of
those I offered to help. Even at my
best, all I could do was bring a dear friend to tears.”
“Lloyd…” Trixie walked toward him and offered a
hand. But Lloyd tilted his head away,
refusing to move, and decidedly refusing to look at her.
“I suppose today was
more informative than a year’s worth of schooling. I know my limits more immediately…and how
much more likely I am to fail than triumph.”
He heard Trixie step
through the kitchen, and forced himself to smile once more. “Ah, but I would ask that you not abandon me
yet, Miss Walters. I’ve no intention of
falling prey to maudlin angst anytime soon; I merely hoped you would understand
my penchant for turning good fortunes into disaster. Come; let us discuss a more reasonable
strategy.” At last, he sat up and
adjusted his chair (and his body) into working order. “I suspect that I’ve made a name for myself
throughout Porbeagle; while you seek counsel with the police, I’ll rally the
townsfolk and --”
“If yer such a failure,
why don’t ya just die?”
Lloyd spun around to
face Trixie -- but this time, she was the one averting her gaze. She stooped a bit, letting her arms dangle
beside her like the leaves of a willow tree; the wavy tips of her hair hung in
front of her eyes. “Miss Walters, this
is very uncharacteristic of you --”
Trixie smirked. “Yer callin’ me uncharacteristic? Come
on, Lloyd. Who gave ya permission to be
anythin’ else but a goofy idiot that’s always spoutin’ off about love? Nobody here gives a damn about yer problems
-- least of all me.” Her smirk stretched
into a toothy grin -- one several inches past normal. “Can’t ya just be happy playin’ the same
character till the day ya die? Maybe
then ya might die a happy man. Bet it’ll
keep ya from gettin’ any wrinkles on that pretty face o’ yers. Know what I mean, pal?”
Lloyd backed into the
table, and pressed a hand atop it for support.
“I’ll act and speak as I please,” he countered. Finding a bit of nerve, he leaned forward. “But I see no reason to explain myself to a
mere imitation.”
“Imitation? Don’t ya think yer bein’ a little too harsh,
pal? Or maybe…maybe that’s the only way
ya can dodge havin’ to answer the big questions. Gonna keep on runnin’ to the very end? Or d’ya just want someone’s shoulder to cry
on?” Her grin stretched even
farther. “For one who would think
himself a savior, I hardly think that’s fitting. You’ll disrupt the performance!”
Lloyd balled his hands into fists. “Who the devil are you?”
“Me? Hmmm hmmm hmmm…” Her shoulders started rocking, and she
pressed a hand over her eye as a grating, high-pitched chuckle escaped from her
lips. “Have you not figured it out yet,
Lloyd? Have you not pieced together that
your true enemy stands before you?”
“Gaston Leroux.”
Trixie wagged a finger
at him. “Tsk tsk tsk. Really, I expected better of you -- surely as
an actor, you’ve realized the truth?
That the one you’re obliged to revile -- to fear -- is actually the same person you invited into your
home?” She spread her arms wide; with
that motion her hair shifted, revealing two blood-red eyes. “I am the REAL Trixie Walters -- the one that
you unlocked.”
“What? I-impossible!” The courage that Lloyd had summoned left him
in an instant; it took all his strength to keep himself on his feet. “I…my power could never be used for such
corruptive means!”
“Oh, can’t it? Do you even know the full extent of your
abilities, Lloyd? Do you know the
lasting effects, or consequences, or even their very nature? Because if you don’t,
what right do you have to argue against me?”
Her fingers started to squirm, like leeches searching for new
flesh. “Do you know what truly lies
inside one’s heart?”
Lloyd clenched his
teeth. “I’ll ask you again. Who the devil ARE you?”
“Trixie Walters, of
course. Oh wait -- you wanted to know
who I really am. Aha, of course, I see. I understand.
And I’ll tell you, if you’re so eager to know.” She turned away from him and looked to the
kitchen’s drawers -- and then, she looked through them one after another.
“What are you doing?”
“Rather slow on the
uptake, I see. Is it common family
practice for you to let strangers sift through your belongings? Ah, no matter; you said you wanted an answer,
and I would be more than happy to give it to you.” She plunged a hand into one of the drawers --
and with a smile stretching very nearly from ear to ear, she pulled it out.
A carving knife.
“Miss Walters! You can’t be --!”
“That’s right, Lloyd,”
Trixie sang. “I’m your killer.”
TO BE HEARTINUED…
Hey Voltech! You've won The Liebster Award at http://inviziblekidz.blogspot.pt/2012/08/the-award-interlude-6.html
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Thanks for the heads-up. I'd better get on it.
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