Xanthic Fields: Vincent’s Descent – atoz blog challenge

**Author’s Note: Vincent’s Descent is a continuous story that began on April 1st, 2023, as part of the AtoZ Blog Challenge. Most chapters are not designed as stand-alone. I’ve done my best to keep each chapter a touch over 500 words each so they are not too dense to follow along, IMO. For the entire story, please start HERE. Comments are always welcome.

Vincent’s Descent

Chapter 23: Xanthic Fields

“I did not kill my mother.”

Faye had been one sheet to the wind when her doorbell rang.

“What the?” she grumbled, putting her whiskey down as she got up from the couch. No one in the building ever came to her door, and she did not buzz anyone in. She stood pissed, gritting her teeth, ready to tell whoever was there to fuck off.

The bell rang again, and then the sound of a fist pounding.

“Faye. Open up. It’s Maria.”

She ran to the door, shooting the deadbolts open, but only a fraction opened the door.

“Maria. Holy shit. You’re,” she said, opening the door fully. And then stopped.

“Hi, Faye,” Vincent said from behind, and to the side, of Maria.  

            Maria caught the door as Faye began to slam it.

            “No, Faye. Stop. Let us in.” She pushed past, grabbing her wrist and pulling her away from the door. Vincent had taken a step closer but stopped in the doorway. Maria turned to him, elbowing Faye in the process. Faye frowned the distance between her eyes closing.

            “Vincent,” they said in unison, but the meanings could not have differed. A pleading from one, a reproach from the other. He nodded, entering the condo and closing the door behind him.

            “Lock it,” Faye shouted over her shoulder as she made her way to her drink. She folded herself in the far corner of her couch, tucking her legs under her. Holding the glass out, Maria tried to take it from her.

            “Nope. Bottle. Bring the bottle,” Faye nodded to the Jamesons atop the sofa table.

            Maria retrieved the bottle, getting a glass for herself. She topped off Faye’s and gave herself warmth, sitting at the other end of the couch. Vincent didn’t drink. He stood awkwardly, looking lost as he did in this world.  

            Maria was about to pat the mid-section of the couch for him to sit when she caught the wide-eye warning from Faye, the slight shaking of her head. “No!”

            “Vincent, pull the chair over and sit, please,” she told him. He nodded, scraping it across the kitchen tile and through the living room carpeting. Maria noticed the rut he made in the material. She shivered, thinking of the river of blood among the tree trunks.

            Faye spit out a stream of obscenities. Vincent lightly blushed, looked at Maria, and shrugged. Maria told Faye everything from her point of view, with Vincent adding in very little about the battle and nothing about the rutting. He mentioned his “I wish” to bring Maria and him somewhere safe.

            “That’s why we were standing outside your door.”

            Faye shot him a look.

            “The look on your face when you opened the door. I can’t imagine what you would have done if we had appeared inside this room.” He smiled, thought better of it, and placed his hands on his knees.

            Silence.

            Faye had her head in her hands, the thrice-filled now empty glass perched on the sofa armrest. When she mentioned icicle missiles, Maria had pulled her legs up, wrapping her arms around her knees. She was exhausted in the telling.

            Faye licked the rim of her glass. Looking into it, she told of her meeting with Vincent’s father, of all their exchanges, of the accusations his father laid at Vincent’s feet.

            Vincent coughed. The women looked at him.

            Maria saw the struggle he was having.

            “What is it, Vincent?”

            “I…”

            Faye exploded.

            “Damnit, Vincent. What is it? You put us both,” gesturing to include Maria, “through that fucking hell. Hey!”

Faye vaulted off the couch and stood over Vincent.

“You don’t get to silent treatment me. I’ve been there; I’ve seen you in that psycho world of yours,” Maria winced, “and the violence you are capable of. Then what Maria just said, the death, the killings, and,” Faye was seething, “and we fucked, and it was magical, and then you went and fucked a bird??”

Maria had to bite her cheeks. She still made a short snort.

“Damn straight, don’t laugh.”

             Faye wanted to lay her hands on him but feared being taken elsewhere.

            “So, fucking Grackle King….”

            “Lord.”

            “Shut the fuck up!” She sighed. “So, what? What were you going to say?

            Vincent looked at Maria, then back to Faye.

            “I did not kill my mother.”