“You’re telling me he’s gay?” Pari had gone toward the kitchen, instead of coming into the dining room.

“Your precious mother was the first to figure it out. She saw him kissing some boy.” My father shrugged and took another sip of his whiskey. “I told her to forget it. Hemi’s a good man, doesn’t need that shit getting around.”

“We’re living in the twenty-first century. Riki would be open about it if he was gay—or he could be bi.”

“You taken your funny pills, boy? That family goes to church every Sunday and it’s not one of those modern churches where that kind of behavior is acceptable.”

I’d long known my father’s views on the topic of sexuality and what was “acceptable.” I didn’t bother to argue with him anymore; it was a waste of time and energy. But he’d given me the information I’d needed: confirmation of my own memory.

33

I’d been in the forest one night when I was eighteen, walking the trails by the light of the moon. It wasn’t safe to venture into the green in such low light, but I’d needed to be away from this house and that particular area behind our property was a familiar one.

I hadn’t meant to creep up on Riki and his boyfriend.

He hadn’t seen me. I’d turned quietly around the instant I realized what was going on, and never said anything about it—it was none of my business. But things had changed. My mother was dead, had been dead for ten long years, and Riki had a powerful motive. And he’d displayed such an absolute lack of sympathy that it had come across as disturbing.

I had no boundaries on this point. Whatever it took, I’d do.

But I wasn’t asshole enough to do it in front of his girlfriend. Instead, after dinner, I messaged him on the old number I had in my contacts. If he’d gotten a new one, the message would go nowhere and do no harm. It just said:

 Meet you by the tree where you carved R x S. Midnight.

Given that I’d changed my own number since we were teenagers, he’d have no way to know the identity of the sender.

I didn’t receive a reply, but I wasn’t expecting one. He’d either be there or not. Now, I just had to stay awake long enough to meet him. The accident had really taken it out of me; I used to be able to stay awake till three in the morning, then get up at eight and be fully functional.

“Ari, why are you awake so late?” A waft of perfume as my mother leaned down to kiss me on the head, champagne on her breath.

“Why are you awake so late, Mum?”

Laughter as she twirled in her dazzling blue cocktail dress, her heels hooked on her fingers and her feet bare. “I’ve been dancing, mera pyara beta. Your father’s stuffy function had excellent music. No bhangra but needs must.”

I looked at the doorway through which she’d disappeared, singing and happy. She’d been capricious and loving and often bitchy, but she hadn’t deserved to be left to turn to bones in the forest. To be murdered and forgotten.

“Bhaiya.” A smaller body in the doorway, Pari hugging her childhood blankie.

“Hey, Twinkles.” I took in her face as I spoke the nickname she loved. She’d been wan at dinner, but we hadn’t really had a chance to talk. “Still feeling bad?”

A small nod before she came over to lean against me. As I looked down at her head, I wondered what she saw in me. I was a selfish arrogant asshole, a real chip off the old block. “You want a story?”

Smile breaking out over her face, she ran over to jump into my bed.

I walked across far more slowly, sat down on the edge, while she snuggled under her blankie. “I’m ready.”

And so continued the story of Pari, the Warrior Queen. The story had nothing to do with blood and gore and everything to do with what would make a particular young girl happy—because Pari was too gentle for swords and glory. And so this warrior queen fought with kindness and empathy, of which I had little inside me.

She fell asleep with a smile on her face, and I pulled my own blanket over her worn and holey blankie. I usually carried her to bed when she fell asleep in mine, but that wasn’t going to happen today. I’d crash on the wide couch in my lounge area—when and if I slept this night. For now, I went back to my manuscript.

A throat needed to be slit in the new chapter, blood coating the protagonist in a hot gush.

At 11 p.m., the house quiet around me, I made my way to the upstairs guest bathroom. It boasted a large window above the sink. That window offered a direct view of the only real entrance to the walking trail that led to the spot where I’d asked Riki to meet me.

“Do you really think this is a good idea, Ari?” My mother’s ghost sat on the edge of the bath, wearing a glittering silver dress that fell around her like sparkling water. “Hemi’s beta is a trained killer now.”

I stared at the apparition so vivid and alive. “Great, now I’m hallucinating.” At least I knew it was a hallucination. “Yeah, I have been rethinking my choices.” Riki could break my neck and dump my body and no one would be the wiser. Just another Rai left out in the bush. “But I have to know.”

No answer, the silver apparition gone as mysteriously as she’d appeared.

I waited till midnight to leave the house. If Riki was coming, he’d do so early, scout out the situation. He’d already be waiting at the site. Exiting via the back door, I began to make my way around the side of the house, my goal the back door of the Henare house. The door through which Riki would almost surely return to his home.

An arm slammed up against my throat, cutting off my airway as I was wrenched back against a hard body. My crutches fell quietly to the grass.

“Did you think you could lead me around like a dog on a leash, you bastard?” Riki hissed in my ear. “Like mother, like son. Always spying on everyone.”