St. Elmo's Fire
“Manon. Come along.”
She followed her grandmother down the front steps of Asterin’s house, her little legs struggling to keep up with Matron’s long strides.
“Hurry up.”
“Yes Matron.”
“And leave that filthy bear. You aren’t a baby. Stop acting like it.”
“But – ”
Matron yanked Mr. Wobbles out of Manon’s hand and dropped it on the driveway. “I said, leave it. Now come, we’re going to be late.”
Even at six years old, Manon knew better than to argue with her grandmother. Knew to quietly buckle herself in the car seat and tuck her hands into her lap. Knew to be polite and well-behaved and never, ever make her yell. Didn’t know enough to stop herself from asking – “But why can’t Rin come stay with you for the weekend too?”
“Because Asterin has yet to learn that children should be seen and not heard. I can see you Manon, so why can I hear you?”
Manon knew enough to stop saying anything. Twisting in her seat, she watched Asterin dart out of the house and pick up Mr. Wobbles, waving at the retreating car. Manon waved back, but she was too far gone for Asterin to see.
+
That morning, Manon felt Elide’s eyes on her as she dressed, slipping on a shirt and jacket, rings and heels. Armor and iron and gold. That morning, Manon sat on the bed, carding her fingers through Elide’s hair, watching the love of her life inhale, exhale, inhale again. She kissed Elide softly and whispered I love you into her skin, promise and prayer and vow.
Whatever happens with the board today, tonight I’ll come home to you.
Hold faith.
We’re in the hurricane now.
+
“Hey Rin.” Manon scooted closer to her sister underneath the blanket fort, poking her arm. “Are you awake?”
“No.”
“How about now?”
“No.”
“What about now?”
“Manon!” Asterin rolled over and flopped an arm across her face. “What do you want?”
“Let’s skip school tomorrow. Seventh grade is overrated.”
“But Cassie is going to be in your class this year.” Asterin teased, poking Manon’s arm in return. “Aren’t you excited to see her?”
“Shut up Rin!” Manon felt her face flame red and the best option seemed to be hitting the other girl with a pillow. “We're just friends.”
“Manon and Cassie sitting in a tree, K-I-S-S-I-N-G.”
“I said shut up!”
“Okay, okay.” Shoving Manon away, Asterin held her hands in the air. “Whatever, I was just messing with you. Why do you want to skip school so badly anyway?"
“No reason.”
“Manon.”
“Drop it. Okay? Goodnight.” Manon rolled over to go to sleep, but Asterin body tackled her, laying on her chest until things like breathing became just slightly difficult. “Rin, get off.”
“Tell me the truth you butt.”
“You’re the butt.”
“You’re the bigger butt. Tell. Me.”
“Fine. Now get off.” Once Asterin finally did, Manon curled around her pillow, trying to keep her face hidden from view. “I heard your mom mention my mom will be in town. I thought … maybe I’d go to the Manor and see her? She probably doesn’t want to bother me because she thinks I’m busy with school, but I’m not busy so it’s fine.”
“Manon.” Asterin didn’t say anything else. There was nothing else she could say. Words are no seawall against this world. Curling close, Asterin rested her forehead against Manon’s back and they breathed in and out, in and out, in and –
+
Manon sat in her car, hands gripping the steering wheel, knuckles white. Bone white.
She made a conscious effort to relax them, but barely any blood flooded back in. Ghislaine was already at the office and Kaya and Thea would bringing coffee for everyone and Sorrel would tell Matron about the meeting that would decide their fates exactly two minutes before it happened and –
Manon inhaled. Exhaled. In.
If nothing else, there is freedom in knowing that the worst can come and you will survive.
+
She didn’t cry. She did not cry. She never, ever cracked. Not even a little. Not even here in the mirror.
The door to the girl’s bathroom swung open and Jessie walked in and Manon walked out, head up, eyes cool, expression blank. She could feel them all laughing at her. She could feel them all staring. You try being an out and proud teenage lesbian in Florida. Just try it. She didn’t walk faster and she didn’t flinch, because Matron had shown her how to always stay steady even when people laughed and stared.
And Manon wanted to be unbreakable, indomitable.
And Manon wanted them all to know that it did not hurt.
The word dyke sprawled across her locker in paint, dripping red, it didn’t matter, the fact that her books kept ending up in the toilet and her backpack in the trash, it didn’t matter, the way people whispered her name, none of it mattered.
“M!” Running up to Manon, Asterin took her hand and sent all the students lingering in the hallway a death glare. “Hang in there, one more year in this hell hole of a high school and we’re free.”
“I’m fine.”
“Manon – ”
“I said I’m fine.”
“You don’t have to be.”
+
Manon settled back in her office chair and looked out over one of the most expensive views in Miami. She’d been told by Matron on more than one occasion that it was worth more than her life – and that’s not even a joke, Manon has seen the insurance policies and the numbers pan out.
She wouldn’t miss it. If this is what burns, well – light ‘em up.
When Sasha walked in, Manon gestured at her to close the door. “Got your resume updated?”
“Haha.” Sasha deadpanned in reply. “I have your coffee. Although I don’t think caffeine is capable of fixing your temperament.”
“See this, this I will miss.”
“I’ve never known you to plan on losing before.” Sasha shot back, raising both eyebrows.
Taking a sip of coffee, Manon let her eyes fall shut. Let herself smile. “Oh. I’m going to win. But once I’m CEO, you’ll be awed into respecting me.”
“I once saw you get so wasted at an office Christmas party that you threw up in a filing cabinet. I have a photo. It is precious to me.”
“Sasha, this is why you have such a high salary.”
“Hush money?”
“Damn fucking right.”
Snorting a laugh, Sasha turned to leave. “Kick ass, Manon. I haven’t updated my resume in years.”
+
She’d been Elide Lochan’s since they were eight years old. And she kept falling in love with her a million little times.
Getting drunk on stolen beer and making up new constellations.
Having a water fight and watching the sunlight shatter through Elide’s hair like a halo.
Giving Elide a friendship bracelet and watching the other girl ignite, that perfect fucking smile, that ragged heart beating and beating in Manon’s chest.
Hearing her say ‘Manon’ a million different ways, a million little times.
And this:
“El. The posters look fine. The posters will continue to look fine. The poster order does not matter.”
“Bullshit Blackbeak.” Elide stood on Manon’s bed, the reigning queen of this room. “Our dorm last year looked like crap. Now as sophomores, our dorm needs to not look like crap.”
“I don’t see Asterin freaking out about interior décor.”
“That’s because Asterin has style. And game. You just have a shockingly thick skull.”
“I have game.” Manon muttered, crossing her arms over her chest.
“Sure, whatever, it’s just I’ve never seen it. But I do remember the time you accidentally stapled yourself. Twice. In a row.”
“You know what Lochan,” grabbing Elide around the waist, Manon dropped them both back onto the bed, “I’ll show you game, all the game, I swear you remember the worst things about me.”
Shrieking with laughter as Manon tickled her, Elide finally called “Uncle” and stilled in her arms, letting her head come to rest on Manon’s shoulder. And Manon would never forget it, how Elide looked at her and smiled and smiled and smiled. “I remember all the best things about you, Blackbeak. And your interior design taste sucks.”
“Agree to disagree Ms. Lochan.”
Elide snuggled closer, her eyes drifting shut. It was late and the amber haze held them, caught them, sway. “I don’t feel like putting my bed together tonight. Can I sleep here?”
“Yeah El.” a million little times, Manon knew the taste of falling in love over and over, over and over. “Always.”
+
My name is Manon Blackbeak and I know how to start a fire.
+
Asterin hadn’t called back in six months.
And Manon had tried. Every hour. Then every day. Then every week. And now – well, when had it become six months of dead fucking quiet?
Her hotel room in Singapore had sweeping views of the bay and Manon knew, quite suddenly, how cave divers feel when they realize there is no way out. All the black. She paced and paced. Paced and paced. Paced and –
Asterin wouldn’t call back.
Throwing her phone into the wall – it’s fine, there’d be another in her hands within the hour – Manon hissed out a long breath and seriously considered threatening to put the cousins’ heads through a wall until they made Asterin get on the goddamned phone.
Whatever.
Her date for the night (Mira? Maya? Mia? Whatever) was waiting in the lobby. Her grandmother would be waiting for them at dinner. Her watch was ticking down the seconds and it was time to fucking go, Asterin could be tomorrow’s problem, Asterin clearly didn’t want to be hers.
Whatever.
Halfway through dinner, a new phone found its way into Manon’s hands. She pretended to pay attention to Mykala while scrolling through texts that didn’t matter. Whenever Perrington asked what she thought about his newest investment proposal, she silently raised an eyebrow and really enjoyed how he flinched at that quiet slap in the face.
Whatever.
When the coffee came – and it was good, the only tolerable part of the meal – Manon fully ignored the conversation in favor of responding to email. Which is how she almost, nearly missed the end of the world.
“Matron, twelve granddaughters … I don’t know how you handle them all.”
“They’ve learned to listen.” (And Manon felt it, Matron’s smile, that knife down her spine.) “My second eldest, Asterin, it’s a pity she had to do that the hard way.” (And Manon wasn’t listening, she was glued to her phone, she wasn’t listening, my god, she’d never listened harder in her life.) “After all the time and effort and money I spent matching her with the Havilliard boy, and she runs off with a … Kennedy.” (And Manon would never forget it, how Matron spit the name, and Manon would always remember how Perrington leaned in, smiling, sneering, vulture at the feast.)
“You must have been so disappointed.” Perrington murmured, oily, unctuous.
“Terribly.” Swirling her wine, Matron settled back in her chair and held court. “I told Asterin that there would be consequences. But she never listened. Maybe now she will. Sharing the truly tragic decisions surrounding her miscarriage with the media was simply a … reminder to her.”
Manon’s heart stopped. That’s no metaphor. She felt the moment when her whole world narrowed down to whether it would start again.
And when it did, there was a ragged wild fury.
Keeping her motions slow, her voice steady, (her heart beat ragged and wild and fury), Manon calmly asked, “That was you?”
“Of course.” Matron casually replied, carving her own coffin. “It was simple.”
“Good.” Manon smiled at her grandmother the ways wolves do at hunters in the deep winter, in the long dark, in the pure weight of the cold. I see you. I am going to make you pay for everything that you have taken. Good. I know my own enemy now.
My name is Manon Blackbeak and I will give everything in my power to undo what you have made.
+
“What the fuck is this?” Her grandmother’s voice, deep and soft, scythed through the conference room as she walked in. And Manon didn’t flinch. There’s blood in the waters and the sharks are circling – keep your head up and your spine straight, don’t you dare fucking flinch.
The five board members seated around the table kept their eyes carefully locked on its wooden swirls, patterns and eddies, not daring to meet Matron’s gaze. Manon didn’t need them too. This was between her and her grandmother, here at last, in the endgame now. It’s just you and me.
“Matron.” Manon smiled, and it wasn’t a pretty thing. “Please, take a seat.”
“Who, exactly, do you think you are?” Matron asked, her iron eyes flashing. Fury, oh yes, Manon knew her grandmother’s fury well.
“Right now, the woman telling you to take a seat. Or you can stand while we do this. I honestly don’t give a fuck.”
Cocking her head to the side, Matron picked her battles and finally took a seat at the other end of the long table. She never took her eyes off Manon. Spine straight. Head held high. Oh, I learned all my nastiest traits from you. Claws out, motherfuckers.
Glancing around the room, Matron finally asked, “Is anyone going to explain themselves?” Manon watched every board member try to repress a flinch at Matron’s tone.
Settling into her own chair, a casual, elegant, arrogant drape of limbs, Manon didn’t bother to stop smiling, a sharp little quirk of her lips. “Grandmother. I can’t tell you what a … genuine pleasure it’s been, working with you all these years. But Miami is only getting younger, and you – well, you’re old. Rusting.
I feel, and board quite agrees, that it’s time to take our company in a new direction. My direction. Your valuable contributions are no longer necessary.”
Freezing for a long moment, Matron finally broke free of the cold snap and laughed. Just laughed. Head thrown back, eyes sharp like metal splinters. “You’re fired.”
“Think again. You’ve gotten lazy, downright complacent, these past years. You don’t even know who has controlling shares of the company anymore. It’s me, by the way. And according to that very expensive law school education you kindly funded, firing a majority shareholder is – to put it nicely – a legal clusterfuck. So think again.”
And Matron stopped laughing. “You little bitch.” She knew. It rippled across Matron’s face in a sudden flash of understanding, clear and fierce as lightning. After all these years, Manon had found her grandfather. There’s blood in this water and the sharks are circling, circling, circling.
“That’s the attitude I’m so going to miss working with every day, grandmother.”
You flinch first.
Leaning forward, claws out, Matron hissed, “Good job, granddaughter, you got the shares. Now file whatever lawsuit you want, but whether it takes days or weeks or months or years, I will fire you. And then, just for fun, I’ll ruin you too.”
Clicking her tongue, Manon slowly shook her head. “Bravo. Well done. Beautifully acted. Now if you’re finished with the histrionics, ask the intelligent question: why did I call the board meeting today?
Let me answer that for you, since old age seems to be dulling your senses. You will be voted off the board. You will be fired as CEO. And you will be – what’s the word? – ruined.”
Matron waited a beat and then spoke very carefully. “No one would dare be stupid enough to follow you. You don’t have the votes. It’s a suicide mission.” And that last sentence, mothers and fuckers of the jury, came out like poison, like a promise.
“Wrong. Again.” Manon tipped her head to the side. “You don’t know anything, do you? Ask them. Ask if I have the votes.”
Matron’s eyes tracked again over the board members, one by fucking one. And, one by fucking one, they looked at Manon and nodded. The queen is dead. Long live the queen. This time, when Matron laughed, it came out short and sharp and splintered. “Well, well, well. How many of you did Manon blackmail? Or fuck? Or fuck and then blackmail? Hmm? And she’s failed anyway. You’ve all failed. There’s no vote without all the board members here, and judging by his absence, I see even Manon’s drawn the line at screwing her own grandfather.” Tisking softly, Matron continued, “Whoring yourself out. What a disgrace.”
“I would appreciate it if you wouldn’t call our granddaughter a whore, Elilabeta.”
Matron froze. Completely. Fucking. Froze.
Because that voice, she knew that voice. From memory, from history, from a past burned and buried and gone. Into the conference room walked Cassius St. Cloud, Manon’s grandfather, Matron’s ex-husband, and the last goddamned board member.
“Cassius.” Matron breathed, forgetting herself for a moment. During the span of that word, the whole world narrowed down to the two of them. They hadn’t shared the same space in twenty-one years.
Pulling a chair out, Cassius smiled. “Apologies for being late. I was waiting in the hallway for the best time to make a dramatic entrance. Did I time it right?”
That shattered the spell. Tabitha, clearly embracing her own demise, fucking laughed. “It’s been too long, Cassius, you motherfucker. Good to see you here.”
“Good to be here, good to be here. I’d forgotten just how long an eighteen-hour flight really is,” he cracked his neck, “and all the champagne in the world can’t make up for the dismal state of airline peanuts.”
“Cassius.” Matron hissed her ex-husband’s name. “Now that you have, as you so eloquently put it, arrived, perhaps you can remind our granddaughter about her place in this company.”
Scratching at his chin thoughtfully, Cassius replied, “Would her place involve throwing you out and becoming CEO herself? Because I can’t imagine why she hasn’t done it sooner. You’re too old for this game, Elilabeta. Walk away with whatever scrap of dignity you have left.”
“You – ” Matron's face had gone white with fury.
Cutting her off, quick and clean, Manon said, “Think very carefully before you finish that sentence. Think very carefully before you make one more threat.” Standing up, the motion smooth and easy, a snake uncoiling, Manon walked over to where her grandmother sat.
This is how you strike.
Manon held a single piece of paper, folded in thirds. Without any fanfare, she set it in front of her grandmother. This is enough to burn a kingdom down. There will be a reckoning.
Alexandrine
Matron went still. Dead. Fucking. Still. After all, living people are usually seen breathing. Leaning over her grandmother’s shoulder, Manon murmured to her alone, "this is for my sisters." Tucking her hands into her pockets, Manon sauntered back to the head of the table and casually leaned her hip against the edge. “Any last words, grandmother?” But Matron didn’t say anything, because her hands were too busy shaking. Ignoring the how the other board members expressions ranged from confused to fucking baffled, Manon just smiled. “Then it seems I get to ask a question. I motion to remove Elilabeta Blackbeak from her position as board member. Who votes yes?”
Seven people said yes, seven nails went into Matron’s coffin.
Eyes on her grandmother’s face, Manon moved in for the kill. “I motion to fire Elilabeta Blackbeak, effective immediately. Who votes yes?” And one by one by one, the seven board members fell into line behind Manon. "I motion to take over the position as CEO. Who votes yes?" And one by one by one, they handed her the matches to burn her grandmother’s kingdom down. I strike where I know you’ll bleed.
And with a casual grace, the new CEO of the Ironteeth company settled into her chair at the head of the table. “Well. Elilabeta. In case it wasn’t clear. You have been removed as CEO, effective immediately. You will sell your shares to me, effective immediately. You will take the severance package that I offer you, effective immediately.” Manon threw a file across the table and the sound cracked through the room like a gun shot. “I’m sure you’ll find it’s more than generous."
Flipping the file open, Matron’s lips became a thin white line. “This – ” she hissed, “this a fucking insult.”
“Just noticing that, are you?” Manon murmured. “You’ve been bleeding this company for years. You take and you take, you’ve had your feast – welcome to the famine. I think one dollar is exactly what you deserve. Don’t you agree?”
It wasn’t really a question. And between them, that carefully folded piece of paper burned like white fire.
“You will pay for this.” Matron stood up, her head held high, her spine straight.
“I look forward to seeing you in hell, grandmother. Now get out.”
It took a minute. A full sixty seconds, each beat the weight of a little death knell. It took Matron one entire minute before she picked up the severance package and that white slip of paper, carrying them like a dead animal, a rotted thing. At the door, she turned to look at Manon, her eyes filled with holy fury. And Manon just smiled.
This is how you kill a snake.
Leaning back in her chair, fingers steepled together, Manon raised her eyebrows at the assembled board members. “Alright. Let’s get to work.”
+++
And I understood, all of a sudden, why magnets turn north; why home is something I yearned for even when I stood on the doorstep;
why peace is not stillness but shattered glass, the gold between the light.