The Overture of Fear & Passion (The Daemonica Symphony Series Book 1) Read online

  She tried again to push herself free, but he overpowered her easily and she was tightly wedged between him and the brick wall behind her. She was unable to move except to kick her feet in vain. She tried to recall her self-defence training, she’d excelled in her classes, but now, when she needed it most, her mind went blank, completely overpowered by panic.

  The man began to shush her and whisper in French.

  “Sssshh, little one. Quiet now. You’ll be a good kitten won’t you and you won’t scream if I let go of your mouth.”

  She nodded her head vigorously, hoping to be able to convince him to let his guard down. As promised, he released her mouth, and she took in a quick gulp of air before biting her lip to prevent herself from screaming out at the violation of where he’d placed the hand instead. She squirmed beneath his touch but failed to dislodge his hand from her breast. The man took in a long breath, seeming to pull the smell of Juliet into his nose the way a sommelier inhales the aroma of wine.

  Juliet reconsidered her decision to remain silent, but before she could let out a scream, the man’s mouth descended on her own and his tongue invading her mouth with a force that seemed inhuman. She felt sick and thought she might choke on her own vomit as he began to grind himself against her. His arousal sickened her, but it also somehow strengthened her.

  She suddenly found herself feeling stronger than she ever had in her life. Twisting against the man’s hold, she yanked her arm free and pushed with everything she had against his chest. She thought she might be lucky enough to simply dislodge him, she never expected him to be catapulted to the other side of the small alley where he crashed against the brick wall and slid down in a heap. Juliet froze for a second, torn between running to safety and a sense of panic at what she had just done. Safety won and she ran.

  JULIET DIDN’T CONSIDER herself to be the kind of woman who cried a lot. Her parents had made her realise early on that tears were simply an involuntary physical reaction to fear, pain or frustration which did little to improve her situation. So instead of running to her bedroom and crying into her pillow, she ran to the bathroom and vomited in the sink.

  Her father must have heard her come in and appeared by her side. When her stomach was completely empty, she slumped to the floor, too exhausted to even wipe her mouth. He handed her a dampened towel, and she took it, appreciating his kindness.

  As she cleaned her face, she looked up at him, not sure how to explain the cause of her distress, but the concern in his face stopped her. She hadn’t seen him look at her like that for a very long time. He looked like a parent, worried about his child. For so long it had felt like it was the other way around. She realised how much she had missed the Papa from her childhood, and she grabbed at his legs and began to cry. He stood frozen for a moment, but he soon kneeled and cradled her in his strong arms, allowing her the freedom to let out her emotions.

  After a few minutes Juliet felt calmer and was able to slow her breathing and wipe away her tears. Her father continued to stroke her hair, running his hand up and down her back.

  “What is this Juliet? Surely this isn’t from too much drinking?” She knew he would scoff at even the suggestion that any child of his couldn’t handle their alcohol.

  She shook her head, still unsure of how to explain what had happened and also afraid of his reaction.

  “Someone attacked me.” She said, beginning to shake as the last of the adrenaline began to leave her system. She felt her father’s body stiffen around her and she decided to tell him the rest quickly, before rage took hold and he failed to hear her.

  “I’m O.K” She added quickly, “I got away from him. He kissed me and groped me, but I fought him off and ran away.”

  The stroking hand on her back had stilled, but he had resumed breathing, a promising sign.

  “Where did this happen?” He asked quietly.

  “In the alley next-door to the shoe store.” She said.

  “This morning?” He asked and she nodded.

  He abruptly let go of her and she swayed before leaning against the side of the bathtub. “Where are you going?” She called out to her father as she pulled herself to her feet.

  “The bastard could still be nearby.” He said, making his way to the front door and pulling on his boots.

  “Papa, what are you doing? You can’t be serious.” Juliet’s eyes widened in surprise as she watched him grab his keys and storm through the door.

  THE SMELL OF honey and toast floated up to Juliet’s nose as she stared at the porcelain cup in her hands. She had showered, put on fresh clothes, and wrapped herself in a warm blanket, making herself comfortable on the soft velvet couch.

  She had been unable to maintain her focus on the television where the news headlines were yet again reporting catastrophic weather phenomena.

  The sound of the front door opening and closing brought her attention back to the present and she looked over the back of the couch as her father made his way into the room.

  “You didn’t find him then?” She assumed.

  He stood still for a moment, not making eye contact.

  “Papa?” She asked, her concern growing.

  Without answering he made his way over to the liquor cabinet, pulling out a fresh bottle of whiskey. He poured a glass and drank quickly before filling it again.

  Juliet assumed he was disappointed at failing to find the attacker and she waited quietly, knowing he would talk to her when he was ready. He finished his second glass and slouched against the cabinet, tapping the opening of the bottle as if trying to decide if he should have another. He must have thought the better of it, because he set down his glass and went over to his desk where he began to sift through a stack of papers. He quickly found what he was looking for and took his phone out of his pocket and began to enter a number.

  “Papa?” Juliet asked again, wondering who he would be calling so early on a Sunday and for a brief moment worrying that it could be his lawyer. Maybe he did find the man?

  He ignored her as he waited for his call to be answered and when it was, he quickly introduced himself in French, sounding oddly formal.

  “I think it’s time.” He said to the mystery person on the other end of the call.

  “Yes, today please. Yes. This address. O.K. We will see you then.” Juliet listened to the one-sided conversation with intense curiosity. He dropped the phone down on the desk, but kept his back to her, looking out the window. She waited for her father to explain but quickly grew impatient.

  “Papa, will you please tell me what is going on?” Juliet asked, her words short as she began to raise her voice.

  He turned and looked at her, but the look in his eyes was completely unsettling. Juliet felt like she was being examined from the inside out, as if her father were assessing her somehow, as if she were a stranger.

  “You should have a shower and eat some breakfast.” He said, his voice flat as he avoided her eyes.

  “Papa, what’s happened?” She asked, her voice shaking.

  “Who was that on the phone?”

  “Please Juliet, just do as I say.”

  She stood, dropping her blanket to the floor as she tried to face off against a man who towered over her five-feet-nine-inch height.

  “No, Papa. I’ve had a shower and I’m not hungry. Tell me this instant what the hell is going on.”

  He stared at her for a moment before he exhaled slowly. He ran his hand over his face, rubbing his stubbled jaw. He looked more exhausted than Juliet had ever seen before.

  “That was your grandmother on the phone” He said, his words knocking the wind out of her.

  She sat back down, staring at him as her eyebrows drew together. He couldn’t have said anything more shocking. She had asked about grandparents when she was younger, but she’d been told they were dead and that it was best if they didn’t speak of them. She’d learned no more than their names ever since. The revelation that she’d been lied to was deeply troubling and she began to ask him another qu
estion, but he raised his hand, cutting her off.

  “Please Juliet, I have a splitting headache and I need to think. Go and practise. We’ll talk when you’re done.” He closed his eyes and began to rub the bridge of his nose. She crossed her arms over her chest and stared at him, watching as he headed for the bottle of whiskey on the piano. She got there first, picking it up and holding it out of his reach behind her. He clenched his outstretched hand into a first before running his hand over his eyes.

  “Papa, I’m waiting.” She said.

  He let out a long breath, still rubbing his face, he looked so tired.

  “What do you want to know?”

  “Everything.”

  “Everything is a little vague, could you be more specific?”

  “Could you be a little less vague?”

  He smiled and his eyes turned to the ceiling with a mumbled curse.

  “Papa.” She said more forcefully.

  “O.K, O.K. But I can’t tell you everything. Your grandmother is coming, she’s flying over form New York. She will tell you more.”

  “Who is she?”

  “Your mother’s mother, Geneviève Toussaint.”

  She thought for a moment, trying to prioritise her questions.

  “Why did you tell me she was dead?”

  “Your mother insisted.”

  “Why?”

  “I… I really don’t know.” He was beginning to get red in the face, the frustration obvious. She waited for him to offer more.

  “For the longest time, I thought she was dead too. Then, when your mother was sick, a letter came for her, by that point she wasn’t well enough to attend to her own mail, so I opened it. I didn’t understand, so I confronted her. She demanded that I tear up the letter and made me promise that I would never contact her and that I never let her into your life. More letters came after she died. She wrote asking to meet you. Offering to help financially. But what could I do? Your mother had made her wishes clear. She wanted nothing to do with them and she didn’t want you having contact with them.”

  Juliet let out a slow breath, she understood her father’s dilemma but was also frustrated. How could she be mad at her mother for something she did without knowing why she did it?

  “What happened to change your mind?”

  He looked away without answering.

  “Papa?” She said firmly when he eyed the whiskey bottle.

  “Papa?” She repeated.

  “I found the man.”

  “What?”

  “I found him. Exactly where you left him.”

  She began to shake her head, confusion muddling her mind.

  “He was just beginning to come to.”

  “What do you mean?”

  There was a long pause before her father looked her in the eyes to answer.

  “He wasn’t human.”

  Juliet nearly laughed. The serious expression on her father’s face completely contradicted the impossibility of what he was saying. She thought better of laughing and wondered if he was being metaphorical.

  “What do you mean, Papa?”

  “I mean, he was different. Like your mother and… like you.”

  Juliet put the bottle of whiskey down on the bench and sat down, leaning her head in her hands. He was either drunker than she thought, or he was being deliberately obtuse in order to avoid answering her seriously.

  “I know what you’re thinking, Juliet. But I’m telling the truth. I don’t know the proper way to explain, that’s why your grandmother is coming. She can explain better.”

  “Papa, what are you talking about? I’m not human? What do you mean? That I’m some kind of alien? You have got to be kidding.”

  “I promise I’m not joking and you’re not an alien. You’re special. Your mother didn’t explain it very well when she told me. She just said that you were special and that we had to protect you because the world that you come from is not safe.”

  Juliet flung her hands up and pushed herself away from the kitchen counter. Her father came closer, his voice rising.

  “Juliet, the man in that alley was nearly unconscious when I found him. Lucky for him because I would have killed him otherwise. He told me that he’d ‘scented’ you and wasn’t able to resist. He apologised; said his kind were ‘slaves to their desires’ and that he had gotten what he deserved. He told me to tell you that you are…”

  He seemed to be grinding his teeth as he continued, “He told me to tell you that you are full of power that no other will be able to resist.”

  He said other strangely; like it was a dirty word. It triggered a memory, she’d heard it said that way before, but it wasn’t a real memory, it was more like the memory of a dream. She shook her head, trying to clear away the fogginess that was creeping in. She wondered if for the first time in her life she was suffering from a hangover, maybe she had drunk too much.

  “I need to clear my head. This is all so crazy. You sound crazy, you realise that don’t you, Papa?” He nodded, lowering his eyes to the floor as Juliet sighed.

  “I’m going to practise, and you should try and sober up. We’ll pick this up when I’m done.”

  JULIET QUICKLY RAN through her daily routine of scales, minuets, improvs and orchestra work and by the time she was finished, it had begun to rain outside. As lunchtime approached, she returned to the living room and saw that the whiskey bottle was gone, her father with it.

  She triggered a playlist to drown out the silence and found herself staring out of the window, watching as raindrops created tiny ripples in the puddle on her balcony. She tried to summon the memory that had come up earlier. She’d had a dream of her mother, after she’d first gotten sick. But the dream was so long ago that she barely remembered the details. So much had been going on at the time, it was no wonder that she hadn’t remembered it until now. The only reason she remembered it at all was because of where it had been set. She remembered the smell of the lavender field as if she hadn’t just been dreaming it; but had been there in person. Her mother had been trying to tell her something. Something about being a princess, or belonging to royalty? But none of that made sense and it had nothing to do with the craziness her father had been rambling about. Except, there had been something about others, or was it; ‘Otherworld’? Juliet shook her head; the confusing memories had completely undone the calming effect of her practise session.

  As the rainfall finally came to an end, she was feeling restless and in spite of having very little sleep the night before, she was oddly energised. She decided to go for a run, hoping the routine and physical exertion would help clear her mind.

  Tucking in ear buds, she made her way out, hesitating at the street entrance of her building for a moment before she shook her head, dismissing the anxiety that threatened to creep its way in and set off at a jog.

  Even after an hour she was still full of energy, by the time she reached the river which was usually when she would turn back, she instead increased her speed and ran for another hour. She only decided to head home after a third hour proved unable to tire her out.

  The apartment was still quiet when she returned, and she quickly showered again before digging around in the kitchen for something to eat. Her father appeared in the doorway as she was finishing off the last brownie.

  “Julietta…” He began, but she cut him off.

  “You said my grandmother is coming. When will she get here?” She asked.

  He looked at his watch; “She called again while you were practicing, she’s arriving in two hours. I told her we would meet her at her hotel.”

  Juliet nodded, “Are you still sticking with this nonsense about me being ‘other’?” She asked, using air-quotes.

  “Juliet, I know it sounds crazy, when I first learned about all of this, I thought your Mamma was crazy too, but it’s true.”

  She shook her head and walked over to the window, looking out at the street below. She didn’t know what to say to him. She didn’t believe him for a minute, but this k
ind of rambling wasn’t like him. Maybe his drinking had gone to a level she hadn’t realised. Or worse yet, could he possibly be taking drugs? Nothing illicit necessarily but could he be abusing pain or sleep medication? Had they gotten rid of all of Momie’s medication after...? She let out a long breath, wondering about the grandmother she was about to meet, and what secrets were about to be revealed.

  Chapter Four

  Juliet scratched absentmindedly at the red polish on her thumb nail. The drive to the hotel had been quiet, their driver Khalid had picked up on the tension after his attempts at chitchat had fallen flat. She always tried to be cordial, but her anxiety had escalated with each passing kilometre.

  With her best impersonation of a friendly goodbye, she hurried out of the car and into the rain. She ushered her father through the revolving hotel door, quickly locating the direction of the lobby, wondering how they were supposed to identify the mysterious grandmother, but the concern was unnecessary.

  The woman sat alone at a table, looking exactly like what Juliet would imagine her mother would have looked like in old age, making Juliet hesitate for a moment. The woman was speaking to a waiter and Juliet took advantage of the distraction to observe her without notice.

  Her pink channel suit was matched by elegantly coiffed white-blonde hair. Her features were still pretty and were softened by age and artful make up. The thin strand of pearls around her neck radiated wealth even in its simplicity. Juliet noticed all of these details, but the thing that struck her the most, was that she looked kind.

  They approached her table at the same moment the waiter left, and she seemed surprised by their appearance. Recognition flooded her eyes; Juliet had often been told she looked just like her mother, only taller and with her father’s eyes.

  Tears sprang into the woman’s eyes and Juliet reached out her hand and introduced herself, eager to break the ice without the need for emotional overtures. She took Juliet’s lead and stood to shake her hand, giving her an appraising smile.

  “It’s so lovely to finally meet you.” She said, her voice almost exactly the same as her mother’s, down to the precise French accent in spite of her apparent New Yorker status. Juliet bit her tongue and focussed on her handshake. The hold was warm and firm, not what Juliet was expecting from such a frail looking woman.