Committed Chapter 12

It took thirty-eight minutes to explain everything that had happened since Ariadne had gone to school the previous evening for the Halloween event.  Throughout the retelling, sublimated only occasionally by comments from Paris, Crete Helen remained seated at the coach opposite Ariadne unmoving.  She had her hands folded calmly in her lap, her face hardly changed expression at all, and her eyes remained locked on Ariadne’s.  She asked Ariadne to pause only for a moment, when the coffee she had been making was ready, and then returned, handing each of them a cup.

            Finally, with the story finished, the three of them sat in silence.  None of them had actually touched their coffee but the more Ariadne smelled it wafting up from the white mug in front of her the more she wanted it.  She could use the energy boost, if nothing else.

            “I have three questions,” Ariadne’s mother said at last.  “The first of which is, did anyone see Janus shoot at you at the school field?”

            “Nobody,” Ariadne said.  She wanted to ask if Crete believed their story and at the same time she was still afraid of what the answer would be.

            “Okay.  My second question is whether or not either of the police officers saw you attack Janus?”

            Ariadne didn’t like the use of the word attack, somehow the way her mother said it sounded a little too accusatory for Ariadne, but she answered nonetheless: “No, they were both upstairs when it happened.”

            “Okay,” Crete nodded again.  “Then my last questions is this: is there anything that you left out from the story?  Did you text anyone else, talk to anyone else, or do anything else that you didn’t mention already?”

            “No, you’re the only person we’ve told anything to,” Ariadne replied again.  “Paris didn’t trust going to the police, and after what they did back at his house I think he was right not to go to them first.”

            “Good,” Crete nodded.  “The less people know about this the better.  The last thing we need is for rumours to circulate and for word to get out about what happened.  Publicity of these events will not help us.”

            “What are we going to do then?” Ariadne asked.  Her mother’s brow was furrowed.  This wasn’t the mother that Ariadne was used to seeing.  She seemed deep in thought and for a moment Ariadne felt the weight of Janus’ presence lift off of her shoulders.  Finally, they had somebody to help them who knew what she was doing.

            “We have to think carefully before we make our next move,” Crete nodded, as if to herself.  “This all has to be handled carefully before it gets any worse.”

            Suddenly, as if remembering her job as a good hostess, Crete shook her head and took a sip of her own coffee.   “You two look exhausted; have some of the coffee, please.  It’ll help wake you up.”

            “Thank you, Mrs. Helen,” Paris said, picking up his own white mug.  “This smells delicious.”

            “If there’s one thing that Arthur isn’t stingy about it is the quality of his coffee,” Crete assured him.

            “What about Dad,” Ariadne asked, setting her mug down after taking a searing gulp.  “Shouldn’t we call him and let him know what happened?”

            “He has a meeting this morning that he’ll be in and he will have his cellphone off,” Crete explained.  “He said he would probably be out of that around nine-thirty or ten.  We’ll have to wait until then to let him know what happened.”

            “You don’t think this is something important enough to interrupt a meeting over?” Ariadne asked.

            There must have been more edge in her voice than she intended because her mother gave her a scolding look before replying.  “Ariadne, this is possibly the most important thing that has happened to this family.  But your father’s phone will be off and I have no way of convincing his secretary to interrupt his meeting without giving her more details about what has happened than I am comfortable doing.  All we have to do is wait a few hours and he’ll be accessible to us.  Until then, all we can do is wait.”

            “No offense Mrs. Helen, but I’ve never been very good at waiting,” Paris commented, taking another sip of his coffee.  “And unless I’ve completely misread your daughter, I don’t think she’s much for the waiting game either.”

            “Amen to that,” Ariadne nodded.

            “Well, Paris, the only suggestions you seem to have contributed to this entire ordeal thus far is that we do nothing.  That doesn’t sound much better than waiting to me.  Or did you have another plan?”

            “We should get Ariadne out of the city for a while, without anyone knowing,” Paris replied.  “I would have recommended it earlier to Ariadne but I figured my opinion would have more weight if you supported it.  If we can get her out of the city without Janus finding out then we can buy ourselves some more time until we figure out how we’re going to deal with this.”

            “So, you’d run away?” Crete asked.

            “Mom!”

            “No, Ariadne, that is exactly what Paris is proposing, let’s be blunt about it,” Crete said, holding up a hand to silence Ariadne.

            “She’s right, Ariadne,” Paris agreed, “I am suggesting that we run.  But running away in a situation like this means we’ll be able to keep you from Janus and ultimately that should be our goal here.”

            “I’m not going to run from him,” Ariadne told him.  “That’s really not my style.  I’d rather stay and fight.”

            “There’s a time to run and a time to fight, Ariadne,” Paris replied.  He blinked slowly as he turned back to Ariadne’s mother.  “You must agree with me Mrs. Helen.  Keeping Ariadne here only puts her in further risk.”

            “My daughters not going anywhere, Paris, though I appreciate your concern,” Crete said.  Ariadne noticed her gaze was now intently focused on Paris.  Her gaze was sharp and her mouth had settled into a thin line, the slightest of curves noticeable at one corner.  “How is the coffee?”

            “The…coffee?” Paris asked, blinking slowly as he glanced down at the mug in his hand.  “Oh…God, you have got to be kidding…me.”

            Paris stumbled to his feet and dropped the mug.  The contents spilled onto the carpet but Crete did not even glance at it as she watched Paris.

            “Paris, what’s wrong?” Ariadne asked as she sprung to her feet and tried to support him by grabbing his arm.

            “The…coffee…she spiked it,” Paris mumbled, his voice becoming slurred as he took a hesitant step forward.  “Why would you…your daughter…?”

            Before Ariadne could catch him Paris fell on his side.  Ariadne grimaced as he landed on his bad arm, but he didn’t even flinch as he rolled onto his back, unconscious.

            “What did you do?” Ariadne demanded, dropping by Paris’ side and cradling his face in hers.  She quickly checked his pulse and found that it was still there.

            “What I had to in order to protect this family,” Crete replied.

            “Paris wasn’t threatening it!” Ariadne snapped.  She tried to lift Paris up onto her arm when her mother’s hand reached out and shoved Ariadne down next to him.

            “Leave him,” she barked, striding over to the window and pulling the curtains aside.  “He’ll be here soon anyway.”

            “Who?” Ariadne demanded, but she felt a cold sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach.  “Mom, who did you call?”

            “Who do you think?” Crete snapped, barely sparring her daughter a glance over the shoulder as she watched outside.  “Do you have any idea how much trouble you’ve caused?  This situation has gotten completely out of control.”

            “You called Janus,” Ariadne breathed, her blood turning to ice in her veins.  “Why the hell would you do that!?”

            Ariadne sprang to her feet and in response her mother spun around and back handed her across the face.  Ariadne staggered to the side, feeling that sting for the second time that day.

            She starred at her mother in horror.   “What the hell are you doing?”

            “You are a selfish brat,” her mother snapped.  “Only concerned with your own problems.  Have you any concern whatsoever for others?  You should have just let him put the damned ring on you.  Everything would have gone much smoother if you hadn’t been so strong headed.  Now you’ve jeopardized things for your father and I as well.  Do you even understand how long you’ve been promised to Janus?”

            Suddenly, the ice in Ariadne’s veins turned to fire.  Before she knew it, she’d struck her own mother across the face.  Her mother stumbled back, catching herself against the windowsill and blinked at Ariadne in surprise.

            “You don’t own me!  I’m not some commodity!” Ariadne spat.

            “That’s exactly what you are Ariadne,” her mother hissed.  “That’s what your whole life has been.”

            Ariadne shook her head in disbelief, trying to rationalize what she was hearing.  It was insane.  It was too much to handle.  She had to get out.

            “I’m taking Paris and I’m leaving,” Ariadne told her mother, lacing her voice with the hatred now bubbling in her chest.  “And you’re not going to stop me.”

            With her mother glaring fiercly at her, Ariadne reached for Paris again.  She waited until Ariadne’s gaze was focused on Paris before she struck.  She reached out and grabbed Ariadne’s arm, dragging her back from Paris.

            “Let go of me!” Ariadne cried.

            Crete’s eyes were wide, her pupils dilated, and Ariadne looked into them for a moment as her mother shoved her back.  She could see anger in those eyes, anger directed at Ariadne, but there was something else in them too.  Something that frightened Ariadne even more.

            Fear.

            Her mother shoved her against a wall, her grip maniacally strong.  Ariadne’s hip struck a black mahogany dresser and rattled the objects displayed on top of them.  There were two vases with artificial plants growing out of them as well as a framed photograph of Arthur Helen, Crete Helen, and Ariadne Helen from a few years ago when they’d gone on vacation to Cuba.

            Ariadne was looking at that photo when she grabbed the nearest vase and smashed it into the side of her mother’s face.

            Her mother crumpled to the ground, her grip on Ariadne going limp as she did so.  She hit the ground with the shattered remains of the vase around her, black soil spilled out over her body, and the evicted plant falling across her chest.

            Ariadne took a moment to breathe, staring down at her mother in disbelief.

            Then, a voice kicked in at the back of her brain.  No time.  Focus.  Get Paris.  Get out.  Janus is coming.

            Ariadne stepped over her mother and hurried to Paris side.

            “Hey, Paris, conscious you would be incredibly useful right now,” Ariadne said, slapping Paris lightly on the face.  Her gave no reaction and she cursed under her breath as she lifted one of his arms over her shoulder and pulled him up.

            She heard a buzzer sound deeper in the house and froze.  That buzzer meant that someone had opened the front gate.  Her mother suddenly going dry, she dragged Paris with her over to the window and pulled the curtain aside to look out into the cul-de-sac.

            A police car was pulling into the cul-de-sac.  The lights were not flashing.  The car pulled up and stopped so that it was parked directly in the path of her car.  Three doors opened.

            Janus was the first one out, stepping out of the back of the car and adjusting his sports jacket.  He turned his gaze towards the house and Ariadne let the curtain drop, her heart hammering as she shifted Paris weight more evenly across her shoulders.