Chapter 5 - The Ledger of Blood
The basement was larger than I remembered. The stone walls were lined with shelves holding jars of dried plants, roots, and dark liquids. In the center of the room, just as in the photograph, was a heavy oak table.
Lorraine was standing over it.
She had changed out of her designer clothes. Now she wore a simple, dark linen tunic. Her hair was pulled back tightly, exposing her sharp, aristocratic features. She was reading from an old, leather-bound book, her fingers tracing the faded ink of the pages.
"I knew you would come alone, Travis," she said, without looking up. "You always had your father's foolish sense of chivalry. It’s what killed him, you know."
I stepped off the stairs, keeping my flashlight pointed at the floor so as not to blind myself in the glare. "What did you do to him, Mom?"
Lorraine finally looked up. Her eyes were bright, almost feverish in the candlelight. "I freed him. Just as I tried to free you. But you chose to bind yourself to that... mediocre girl. A girl with no lineage, no strength. A girl who almost died just giving birth."
"Brooke is twice the woman you will ever be," I spat, my hands clenching into fists. "What is this, Lorraine? What is in that book?"
Lorraine let out a soft, mocking laugh. She patted the leather-bound ledger. "This is the history of our family, Travis. The Calders have survived in this desert for generations because we understood the balance. We pay our debts to the land. We prune the weak branches so the tree can survive."
I walked closer, my eyes darting to the crimson velvet cloth on the table. Resting on it was the silver vial.
"The atropine," I said, pointing at it. "You poisoned my son."
"Poisoned? Such a harsh, modern word," she sighed, closing the book with a heavy thud. "I was purifying him. Introducing him to the family legacy. A strong child survives the belladonna. It strengthens the heart, prepares them for the hardships of life. Your father survived it when he was a boy. You survived it."
A cold sweat broke out across my forehead. You survived it.
Suddenly, pieces of my childhood clicked into place. The chronic illnesses I suffered as a toddler. The weeks spent in darkened rooms, my mother feeding me bitter-tasting teas while my father argued with her in whispered, panicked voices. My father hadn't died of a heart attack. He had discovered what she was doing to me, and she had poisoned him to protect her "tradition."
"You killed my father," I whispered, the horror of the realization settling into my chest.
"Your father tried to take you away from me," Lorraine said, her voice rising, losing its calm, detached tone. "He wanted to take you to California. To live a 'normal' life. He wanted to break the cycle. I couldn't allow that. The Calder legacy must be preserved."
She reached for the silver vial on the table.
"And now, Jonah will carry it on. Or... he will fail, and we will know he was too weak to bear our name."
"He is a baby!" I roared, lunging forward.
May you like
Lorraine was faster than she looked. She snatched the vial and backed away, her back pressing against a shelf of heavy glass jars. "Step back, Travis! Or I swear, I will ensure the police find enough evidence in your home to lock you away for this. I’ve spent two weeks preparing. I have receipts of you purchasing the nightshade seeds. I have your fingerprints on the extraction equipment."
She smiled, a cold, calculating grin. "In the eyes of the law, you will be the monster who tried to kill his own son to escape the pressure of fatherhood. And I will be the grieving grandmother who takes custody of little Jonah."
