Page 81 of Wateredge
All these people…
“Dude, she left you ten years ago. Maybe it’s time to move the fuck on. While you still have legs to do so on?” Lucio and the Tavern sous chefs, still wearing chef coats and aprons, came up from the side road. Lucio did not bother to hide the cleaver in his hand. Lark’s tears were falling harder, almost blinding her.
Magnus stepped fully behind the sheriff and the guards, his face contorted with powerless rage.
“You are making a big mistake, Lark Rathcross. I know where you are. And if you think I or the law cannot find you here and cannot take you to where you belong—”
“I belong here, Magnus. I have nothing to give you. I was a child, and you are a monster. I was afraid of you back then. I’m grown now, and no monster scares me anymore.”
“Mrs. Rathcross—” Redding tried to intervene.
“Sheriff, are you going to be following the bidding of someone with no power here?”
The mayor!
All high heels, crimson lips, and a “Do not fuck with me” look, Paloma Allende lifted her chin and stared the sheriff down.
“The Council will be looking into the police reform, Sheriff, as it has been on the Council’s agenda for months now. I have some serious doubts that your behavior today, protecting and acting as the marionette of someone who abused a sixteen-year-old girl—”
“He has a marriage certificate, it’s legal!” Redding’s color matched his name. Lark watched Ceridwen step closer to Paloma, forming a perfectly united political front.
“Child marriage is vile, Sheriff. It’s a horrible institution and it’s outlawed in Massachusetts, as it should be everywhere. The fact that you’re standing here defending it tells me everything I need to know about the kind of man you are. Which I’m sure Madam Mayor, along with my fellow Council colleagues, will take into consideration upon renewal of your contract. Or dissolution of the same. Since I will be demanding the latter.”
“Now wait a minute, Councilwoman—”
Redding stepped forward, his hand holding the sidearm. Lark saw Ceridwen snap her fingers quietly, and the pebbles under his feet tripped him, causing him to fall face-first into the shallow waters of Seren’s ocean tide.
He sputtered and jumped up, cursing, brandishing his weapon.
“Stand down, Sheriff.” Judge Astor stepped up to Victoria and extended his arm for the paperwork. “I’d like to see what kind of document this is and what theft can still be prosecuted ten years after the fact. Now, I am not an expert on Louisiana and its Napoleonic codes, but I know that nothing, bar murder, is permanent, and unless what you’re holding there is a lawful warrant, Ms. Thibodeaux is not obligated to go anywhere.” Judge Astor unfolded the crumpled piece of paper and whistled.
“Well, would you look at that? It’s not a warrant at all. And since this isn’t an enforceable document but a mere complaint without any subsequent law enforcement actions—since I believe Mr. Rathcross here would’ve brought evidence of those—theft has a statute of limitation—or prescription, since we are playing by the special legal rules and notions of the grand ol’ state of Louisiana—of six years maximum. By my calculations, even the most generous ones, all these years have passed.”
Redding’s face turned a particular shade of puce. Lark felt the chains around her chest loosen. Prescription? Statute of limitations?
Judge Astor threw the paper in the water under his feet before pulling out a neatly folded envelope. “And since we’re talking about paperwork. Here’s a restraining order. And this one is valid, not expired and completely lawful. Magnus Rathcross, consider yourself served. You cannot be within a hundred feet of Ms. Thibodeaux. You may be a big shot in Baton Rouge, but this is my jurisdiction, and I won’t hesitate to throw you in the town jail, even if I have to do it myself since it looks like Crow’s Nest won’t have a sheriff for much longer. Am I understood?”
“Well, I never…” the sheriff mumbled.
“You will regret this, Lark Rathcross.” Magnus took a step back. Then another.
He glared at her, eyes filled with hate. Lark shook her head and held Seren’s hand tighter.
“You sound like a cartoon villain, Magnus. And it’s Thibodeaux. I’ll send you the divorce papers.”
The crowd cheered. Patches hissed approvingly in Prudence’s arms. In the distance, the gannets’ calls sounded like ravens, like crows.
21
SEREN, EVENING LOVE & MIDNIGHT NIGHTMARES
The night had begun with love and the promise of the future. And ended with blood and tragedy.
Lark had clung to Seren when they got back to Victoria’s. Neither wanted to be alone, and leaving Victoria to her own devices did not sound like a good idea either. So when Lark simply took her hand, Seren asked no questions and followed her to the small cottage where they retired early, Victoria waving them off.
When Lark shook off her jeans and climbed into her lap not much later, Seren didn’t ask anything and chose to again follow her lead.
“I need to be close to you.” Lark’s forehead rested on hers, her eyes large, bottomless pools of tenderness, of desire. Of something Seren would never tire of looking into. Love and adoration. And so she did not question the tight grip on her shoulders, the scrape of nails on her skin, the trembling in Lark’s voice.
