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ai-martino · 3 years ago

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The sun rises calmly and so the waves. While everyone is brewing coffee I get to walk quickly on the seashore, with the comfort of waves and coffee aroma I am able to find peace. I am still in shock of how my life is going, how I survive everyday, how I endure this heavy heart but God is just so good for giving me such an extra-ordinary strenght. I stepped on the water to feel how refreshing it is while floating with the waves, how I wish I could live like this everyday, far from cruel environment.

All of my colleagues are busy talking about random topics. I silently listen to them and unknowingly giggles with some of their jokes. Giggling is not my typical thing so everytime I do, everyone will surely throw a surprise look. One of my classmates invites me for a sandbar party tonight, though I am not into this kind of stuff but I wanted to try, so I gave her a nod.

After an hour of random talks and coffee, our coordinator Mrs. Punsalan called us to start the retreat, it was an activity hosted by "An Open Door Foundation Inc." a foundation where I am volunteering as an art teacher.

I finished Mass Communication course, its surprisingly ironic to what I really am so I pursue journalism, I focused more on writing, admittedly, I had written various novels and donated all the proceeds to various foundations where I grew up.

Yes! I was a foundling, I grew up without a family. When sister Jelli saw me at the street, I was barefooted, ripped clothes, devastated face, bruises and wounds caused me chills and I almost see heaven that time. So I kinda' hate this kind of activity especially when being asked to think of something most unforgettable.

It doesn't ease me, it hurts me even more.

The retreat is getting into a deep emotions. Some of them are crying while hugging each other, some are yelling for forgiveness I stayed in silence and turn a stare at nowhere. I have no one to apologize to because no one will forgive, I have no one to forgive because no one apologizes, perhaps I cannot cry because I am empty.

I waited for the retreat to be over and everyone to come out. I wanted to leave the room last. No particular reason, I just wanted to be alone. I stayed at the retreat room for a couple of hours and take the opportunity to write.

While enjoying my writing someone bumped on the door. It is really strong that it almost breaks. I hurriedly stood up to see who was bumping.. my eyes almost came out to see a tall-beardy-hunk man in a white sando and a boxer! With a glass of whisky on his hand Holy shit!! He really has a huge balls. I pushed him away , immediately close the door and lean for a second with eyeballs still bulging, I am still in shock with those things. So I take a deep breath before I open the door again to check if he is still there.

*guy murmurs*

In a most decent and prim act I checked on him, wakes him up but gain no response, I slowly grab the glass of whisky from his hand and inspect whether he has a phone or an identity card to know his name, but everytime I turn a look at the bottom I am so bothered of that huge thing! I dunno but some part of my mind is telling me to touch it but I really can't!, the form is quiet scary. I grab his wrist to check his pulse and it seems normal, maybe he just passed out due to excessive alcohol intake.

I can't carry him in, I have been calling Shey my bestfriend but she's not attending calls, there were no telephone at the retreat room and the reception area is quiet far so I left him outside and I think he deserves it, I hope when he wakes up he will learn self-control.

But wait! Ain't that evil as you think, don't worry guys I left the door open so he can get inside if he gain consciousness.

* The guy groans, while crawling inside*

I almost jumped on my feet with that groan! I can see him crawl,he's really crazy, he crawls like a zombie! I hide under the table trying not to look at him and take small steps to escape..

" So, you are leaving again?"

I freeze when he suddenly speaks, he get up from the floor and walk towards me, my toes are trembling as he look at me like a serial killer, his drunk eyes are really scary, he come very close that our nose are almost touching, I can smell the alcohol in his breath that almost caused me to throw out.

With a shaking hands I pushed him away I haven't had a strong muscles to knock him down but a little space is enough to do an escape. He stared at me and he was crying, then he turn back and leads me to the door. I run as fast as I could. I was about to call the police to report him abusive but the appearance of sadness on his face melts my heart; and all that had happen that morning remain a secret.

The breezing touch of sand and waves gradually calm my heart as I convey myself in the seashore. Playing with the sand and scattered seashells are also my hobby. The sun is about to touch the horizon so I sat down to watch the sunset and take a picture.

" I can take you a picture, if you want Ma'am"

A gentle guy offers me a help to catch the beautiful sunset view for a pic. Without a second thought, I agreed.

" Thank you so much......?"

"I'm Nix , a resident photographer of this resort, if you don't mind may I know your name Ma'am?"

" Alodia"

" Nice to meet you Ma'am Alodia"

" You can call me my name, no need to attach "Ma'am" on it, its too formal and it makes me feel old."

His face blushes after saying him such words. I don't intend to offend nor intimidate so I offer him a handshake which he accepts politely.

" A---lodia, Im actually strolling around, looking fo a scenematic view to capture, if you are free, can you join me?"

I don't think i have an idea to refuse, so I join him and we stroll around the resort. he introduced to me every corner of every places of the resort, he's very entertaining that he never allows a single moment to be unuseful.

He handed me his camera and encourage me to try to capture a scene of the setting sun. Im a little shy to try because I don't really have a skill on photography but he seems very persistent that I can't disagree.

It was the first time I had a long conversation with a stranger like being so generous of my laughters and time, I don't know but I am so relieved when I am with him.

We almost didn't notice that its merely dinner, I'm starting to worry because I didn't get to inform Shey and Mrs. Punzalan about what I am doing, since I haven't join them for an activity after the retreat. I bade goodbye to Nix and extend my appreciation of a free tour and entertainment.

He walked me on the way to our Villa, my colleagues are there, preparing for dinner. Shey, run towards me and gave a tight hug. She paused for awhile when she saw Nix behind me, I can see in her eyes that she's concluding a controversial thoughts about me and Nix, so I speak ahead before she was able to tell controversies.

In a very manly manner, Nix offer a handshake to shey and Introduce himself. Shey has a little shyness yet a huge interest with him, ( i can tell because she has that awkward mannerism of curling and flipping her hair everytime she sees a handsome man) well they're a good match.

I left them for awhile and head straight to an outdoor kitchen where the foods are being prepared. Some of my colleagues are murmuring while staring at Shey and Nix

Im a little curios why but I don't bother to ask , instead I reminded them for a sandbar party tonight.

#my writing #thriller #mystery series #stories

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ladyseaheart1668 · 6 years ago

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Endless Summer Book 4: Daughter of Vaanu (Chapter 28)

Description: Lila seeks shelter with the Catalysts. Estela and Aleister confront their father. Meanwhile, Tahira gets an unexpected visitor.

Tagging: @xo-endlessmayhem-xo @princesstopgun @mysteli @endlesshero1122

Notes: I already announced this on AO3, but I tend to forget to make these announcements on Tumblr, too. I will be writing a Book 5. There is just too much story left for me to sum it up in Book 4. There’s still a good bit left of Book 4, though.

Chapter 28: Mimicry

Tahira

Why, oh why did I agree to do this press conference so early in the morning? I barely slept last night, and a cup of extra strong coffee isn't really cutting through the haze. But I've got Grayson on one side of me and Meiko Katsaros on the other, offering support. One of these two people knows who I am under the mask and supersuit I'm wearing. Both are necessary allies at this conference. I clear my throat, shifting slightly at the podium.

“I know the first question on everyone's minds has to be regarding my whereabouts for the last ten weeks. To be honest, the exact location is still something of a mystery. It appears that the experimental reactivation of the Prism Gate within the Prescott Industries lab is what allowed me to return with Silas Prescott, and several of the scientists who were involved in the project are working with me to get some answers, but as of right now, I don't have anything more to say on that matter. As to whether or not Silas Prescott may still present a threat, I can assure you that DA Katsaros and the Northbridge Police Department are keeping him under surveillance while he recovers. And once he does, it will be up to the justice system to decide what will become of him then. I will be advising them as far as I am allowed, advocating for a course of action that keeps the public safe. And I will now open the floor to questions...”

Michelle

Tahira's press conference flickers on the television set mounted near the ceiling in the corner of the hospital cafeteria. It's on the edge of my vision, but I only let it hold my attention for an instant before my eyes drop back to Lila, sitting across from me with her knees drawn to her chest. Her coffee is going cold on the table in front of her. She is still wearing scrubs, and the nametag of a nurse I actually know fairly well. If I hadn’t been told by the Endless that Lila was alive, I would have taken this woman across from me for one of nature’s doppelgangers. A trick of genetics and chance that happened to create a person nearly identical to Lila in appearance. This woman acts nothing like the Lila I knew on the island. That Lila was as irritatingly bubbly as she was ruthless, and neither side of her personality was a lie. That image of her doesn’t quite gel with the woman sitting across from me now, showing a dozen red flags.

“Lila, why don’t you take that nametag off?” I coax gently.

“I’m not Lila anymore,” she mutters. But she complies, removing the badge and placing it facedown on the table in front of her.

“Is there another name you go by now?”

“…Most of the time. But…” She trails off and stays silent, giving no indication that she intends to continue that thought.

“…Do you want to tell me what it is?”

She shakes her head. “No. Just call me Lila.” She looks up at me. “You don’t seem surprised to see me.”

“…Actually, I am.” It’s not really a lie. I wasn’t expecting to see her here. “At least a little.”

“I suppose with Alodia turning up again, it can’t be that big of a shock to find out that I’m alive, too.”

“Clearly you haven’t completely neglected to watch the news. But in point of fact, we learned that Mike was alive well before Alodia came back.”

“…Mike…which one was Mike?”

Oh, right. She was already dead by the time Mouse’s identity was revealed.

“Jake’s navy buddy. The one who was killed by his commander. Or…so he thought. Mike actually survived, and he became Mouse. We rescued him from Lundgren, but then he was killed helping us in the final battle. And then we got off the island and discovered him alive.”

“…Oh. Of course. I remember Commander Lundgren’s trial…”

“Now. Why don’t you tell me what you were doing in Silas Prescott’s hospital room?” Lila averts her eyes, hugging her knees more tightly to her chest. When she doesn't answer after a moment, I continue, lowering my voice. “I don't want to get you in trouble, Lila. If you can convince me that you don't mean him any harm, I am entirely willing to overlook the fact that you're illegally impersonating a nurse.”

Lila looks up sharply, fear and hurt in her eyes. “I wasn't going to hurt him...” she whispers faintly. “I...was just a messenger...”

I hold her gaze, and will her not to look away. “...Who's message were you delivering?” I ask like a mother who already knows the answer. I fear that I do.

Tears are pooling in Lila's eyes now. Her lips start to quiver as her face reddens. I'm not entirely expecting what she says next...although perhaps I should have been.

“...Help me, Michelle. Please...I think he's going to make me hurt someone.”

I take a moment to collect myself, the way I do when a patient starts coding. “...By 'he', I assume you mean...?”

She nods. “...Mr. Rourke,” she whispers.

“Rourke is in prison, Lila. He's in prison for life. He can't make you hurt anyone.”

“Yes, he can!” she growls under her breath. “You know he can! You know he has that power!”

“You resisted him once before,” I remind her. “When he wanted you to hurt us. You fought back. Protected us.”

She is quiet for a moment, apparently considering this. Then she sighs, shaking her head.

“I think I was stronger then.”

I frown, lowering my voice. At this hour, the cafeteria is pretty quiet, but I'm not taking chances here. “Lila, how long have you been...alive?”

“...I...think it's been about five years...”

“And...how long have you been in contact with Rourke?”

“...About since he went to prison. A few months after.”

“What?! Oh, Lila...!” I'm caught between frustration and pity. I know from Alodia that Lila didn't have any family on the outside. She dedicated her life to Rourke because she believed he could erase her troubled childhood. “Why didn't you seek one of us out? You must have realized we all made it off the island, and you were our friend at the end. We could have helped you.”

She shrugs miserably. “...Maybe I wanted you to remember me as I was.”

“...But you went back to Rourke?”

“I don't know, Michelle. I felt sorry for him. I wasn't intending to show him anything except sympathy...”

“Except that Rourke is a master manipulator. He's a psychologically abusive asshole, and losing everything hasn't changed that.”

Lila shakes her head hard. Then, quick as a striking snake, she reaches out to grasp my wrist. “It doesn't matter. It doesn't matter how it happened. You have to help me now. He knows Alodia is alive. He knows she's pregnant. And he's planning something.”

Alodia

I'm dreaming. I know I am. I'm clinging to the mast of The Dorado while Cetus' storm has the sea roiling and crashing against the hull. I've lived through this moment. And now I'm living it again. And I know what happens this time.

I won't...I won't watch him die...

Craig is going to die this time. The dream me, the one who doesn't know what's going to happen, doesn't understand why she's suddenly looking around for Craig. Why she's suddenly so sure he's in trouble. But it won't be until Cetus' tail comes down and splits the deck in half that he'll be lost.

Wake up! Wake up! There is no point in reliving this!

Isn't there...? Isn't knowledge your greatest weapon? To protect them? To protect yourself? To protect your child?

...But what can I learn from this? What can I learn from watching this again?

What makes you think I can tell you? I'm only your subconscious. Or perhaps I am the Endless. Or even your father.

Cetus' tail lands the blow that shatters the deck and throws me into the sea. I can feel the electrical current that rushes through his body as if through my own. It leaves me stunned, too stunned to think of swimming. It's Craig who first finds me in the water, holding my head above the surface, while he is battered by the raging waves...

No! No, I won't! Let me go!

I'm not holding you captive, Alodia. Go back to your husband...

… I come awake with a soft gasp. The child in my womb stirs in response, as does their father beside me. His hand gropes for mine.

“You okay, 'Lodia...?” he mumbles, his voice languid with sleep.

I blink, getting my bearings. The digital clock on the bedside table reads 2:41am. “I'm fine. River just decided that this was the perfect time to practice kickboxing.”

Jake shifts onto his side, stroking my belly with his free hand. “Go back to sleep, kiddo. Your mama needs her rest.”

“So does your papa,” I remark. “You'll be waking both of us up at all hours with crying soon enough. He should sleep while he can. Unfortunately, he's kind of a worrywart, and he wakes up whenever I do.”

“Someday, kiddo, you'll hear a story that explains exactly why that is.”

“...But not for a very long time, I hope.”

“Well, I'm not suggesting it would ever be a bedtime story. I'm guessing our kid will have the sex talk years before they have the 'Mama's half-alien' talk. Hell, I'd suggest we give 'em the 'Papa spent three years on the run from the military' talk before we try to explain everything that happened on that island and why they have so many aunties and uncles who aren't related to us.”

“...But you think we should tell them eventually?”

“I think it's not unlikely they'll need to know. And I want them to know some day that their mama saved the world.”

I snort a little. “Well...there's time enough to figure out when and how we'd explain everything. Nearly 3am isn't exactly the time to be making decisions like that.”

“Fair enough.” Jake draws me gently into his arms. “Let's get some sleep instead.”

I close my eyes and nestle my head on his chest. My head rises and falls as he lets out a contented sigh and presses a kiss to the top of my head. I tighten my grip, trying to ignore the growing dread behind my heart. In the back of my mind, I can hear it calling me, the image of the chained woman hidden in the poolhouse, carved from the amber of Elyys'tel.

Sean

“We need to warn Alodia and Jake,” I insist.

“Warn them of what?” Michelle snaps, exasperated. “That a man who is currently languishing in a criminal asylum on the opposite side of the country thinks he might be able to use her or her baby to activate a doomsday machine?”

“You make him sound so harmless,” I snap back. “You know he isn't. He's a dangerous egomaniac with an indomitable will who actually built a functional doomsday machine that he could have used her in...”

Michelle sighs, rubbing her hands over her face. “You're right,” she concedes. “He's not harmless. But right now, he's contained. The Omega Mech doesn't exist anymore. Neither does the Island's Heart. I don't doubt he has the will, but right now, he's severely lacking in resources. There's no good reason to stress them out right now. Especially while Alodia's pregnant.”

“Michelle,” Quinn says gently, “think about that for more than a moment, you'll realize keeping it from them is a really bad idea. If you thought a patient of yours might have cancer, you wouldn't hide it from them just because you also thought it was a long shot and you didn't want to stress them out.”

Michelle looks down at her hands, gripping fistfuls of her scrub pants in her lap. I reach over to cover her hand with mine, stroking her knuckles with my thumb.

“...Alodia and Jake aren't patients,” she says flatly.

“No,” I agree. “They're our friends.”

“...And they won't thank us if we hide this from them,” Quinn adds. “They have a right to know.”

Michelle closes her eyes with a sigh. Finally, she nods. “Okay. You're right. We'll call a Catalyst meeting. But...I think first, we should decide what to do with Lila.”

I glance over at Lila, curled up on the armchair in the corner of Michelle and Quinn's apartment, gazing back at us with dull, exhausted eyes. It doesn't feel quite right, discussing her as if she isn't in the room, but I honestly don't know if she'd talk back if we did try to bring her into the conversation.

“I don't think we should keep her here,” I murmur. “For a few reasons. One of which is named Montoya.” I don't mention a first name on purpose. I don't think Lila has been made aware that Olivia is alive, and I don't want her to find out like this.

“That is a good point. The closer to us Lila stays, the more likely it is she's going to encounter her. And...that could get messy. Frankly, I don't think either of them need that right now.”

“But where else could she go that would be safe?” Quinn asks worriedly. “Ultimately, isn't Lila safest with the Catalysts? What if Aleister and Grace were to look after her?”

“And what if Rourke has some way of tracking her?” I ask. “If he gets his claws in her again, she'll then have access to basically all the resources of Rourke International.”

“I'd suggest sending her to be looked after on the west coast,” Quinn sighs, “but if she is being tracked...that would be even more dangerous, since she'd basically have total access to Alodia and the baby.”

“And that is not an option,” Michelle declares fiercely. Her mouth twists a little. “I...suppose we could take her to a women's shelter...”

I feel something cold grip my gut. My grasp on Michelle's hand tightens involuntarily. She frowns, her free hand coming up to cup my cheek, and gently turn my face toward her.

“...Sweetie, are you okay?”

I swallow against the sudden dryness in my mouth. “Y-yeah. But...I don't know if a women's shelter is going to be the best place for her...”

“Why not? They're better equipped to counsel and protect abused women than any pocket of Catalysts on our own would be.”

“None of them know Rourke, though. And...” I trail off, hesitating for a moment. While I feel plenty safe revealing details of my troubled childhood to Michelle and Quinn and indeed any of the Catalysts, having Lila in the room makes it more difficult. But I draw in a breath, and lower my voice. “When I was about twelve, Dad went through a particularly bad phase. Like...bad even for him. Momma actually feared for our lives. It was the one time she tried to get away. Packed me up and drove to a women's shelter while he was out of the house. It wasn't like it was a bad place, but it also wasn't the most secure, and...”

“...He found you,” Michelle finishes grimly. I nod.

“Didn't do any physical or property damage, just came in and yelled a lot, scared the crap out of all the residents and their kids. ...My dad was unhinged and brain damaged. Rourke...isn't. Well, unhinged, maybe, but he's sharp. He's deadly smart.”

“...And in prison,” Michelle reminds me.

I shake my head. “No prison is escape-proof. You know that. We were warned. You heard it from her own lips.”

“Guys?” Quinn pipes up. “...I think I may have a solution.”

Raj

“Absolutely. Don't even worry about it.”

“Are you sure?” Sean asks. “Are Craig and Zahra gonna be okay with it?”

“I'm not going to be here much longer. I have to be in Rome in a few days. It will be nice to have company. If you're okay with putting her up another day or two, then I can take over after that no problem.”

“Wow, buddy, that would be amazing of you. It's just that it doesn't feel like she'd be safe leaving her at a women's shelter, but we don't want to keep her in the same city as the Montoyas longer than we have to--”

“Hey, man, you don't need to explain. Lila's our friend, even if there is still some leftover awkwardness. I want to help her.” I hesitate a moment. “But...regarding what she told you...about Rourke's plans. ...How much danger do you think there actually is?”

“That's kinda hard to predict. Michelle managed to get it out of Lila that he's been contacting her via a cellphone disguised as a hairbrush. We blocked his number, and we can probably get that brush confiscated from him. But...I don't know. I don't think I can ever be completely confident that Rourke isn't a threat anymore. Not since Alodia came back.”

I sigh. “...Yeah...I get that. God, it's so crappy that she still has to worry about him at a time like this.”

“It's crappy that she has to worry about him at all. I feel shitty saying this, but I wish he would just die already. He's not doing anyone any good hanging around, why can't he just give up the damn ghost and leave us all alone?”

I sigh. “Honestly, man...I bet even Aleister would agree with you there.”

Aleister

“This feels like a foolish idea.”

From the driver's seat, Estela glances at me just briefly before turning her attention back on the road.

“I need to know what he knows. I need to know what he's planning.”

“He's not going to give himself away. You know that.”

I watch her grip tighten on the steering wheel, watch her masseter bludge against the skin of her jaw as her molars grind into each other.

“I have to look him in the eye.”

“...I worry that we'll give away more secrets than we gain from him,” I sigh.

“How long have you known me that you think I can't keep secrets?” she asks peevishly. “Do you think I could have been a San Trobidian revolutionary if I were that prone to cracking under pressure?”

I can't hold back a wry smile. “Dear sister, when it comes to secrets, you are a locked safe. You will not yeild but for the right combination. But let us be realistic, you are not subtle. Everyone knows a locked safe conceals valuables, even if they can't access them.”

Perhaps in spite of herself, she snorts, and I see a smile playing around her mouth. “And what does that make you, brother? Are you a locked safe concealed behind a hidden panel?”

“Absolutely not. I was a complete disappointment to the man, remember? At best, I am a Batesian mimic.”

“...A what?”

“A harmless prey species that evolves to resemble one that is harmful to its predator. Such as the viceroy butterfly whose colors mimic those of the toxic monarch butterfly. ...Or, perhaps to use a more apt example, the harmless king snake, whose coloring resembles that of the venomous coral snake.”

“...Of course. Much more fitting to compare our dear...sperm donor to a venomous snake than a butterfly.” She is quiet for another moment. “...I want to make sure we get ahold of that hairbrush-phone. I don't fully trust the guards at that place. I'm sure they're doing their best, but...”

“But Father is a dangerous megalomaniac, a master manipulator, et cetera.”

“Precisely.”

I sigh, leaning back in the passenger seat and letting my head drop against the headrest. “Well...I'm still worried about this whole idea. But I suppose we can't just let it lie when Lila was sent to deliver a note to Silas Prescott. ...That suggests he isn't resting on his laurels.”

“Or the memories of his laurels. Clearly he wants to taste glory again, and the means may exist to him now.”

I feel my fingers curl tightly against my palms. “We won't let him get to her.”

* * *

As usual, Estela and I are searched at the door for any dangerous items that we may otherwise smuggle into our detained father before we are finally led to the visitation room. We are made to sit in chairs spaced a safe distance apart so that we could not touch each other, and guards remain beside us, watching for any suspicious movement. Twenty minutes later, our father is led into the room. We are each permitted one embrace at the beginning of our visit, and one at the end. To keep up appearances, we each stand in turn, gingerly taking his hands while he stiffly kisses our cheeks. I'm sure the guards never miss the way we flinch at his touch, but if they have opinions on it, they have never shared them with me.

It would be impossible to miss the rather large bandage wrapped around his right hand, even if he didn't physically touch me. I let my eyes linger on it as he seats himself across from us, folding his hands delicately in his lap.

“What a pleasant surprise,” he remarks, his voice honeyed and cloying. “It has been quite some time since my children visited me.”

“Perhaps now you have some idea of what it was like to have you for a father,” I snap back. “...What happened to your hand?”

“Ahh, this? A little...incident in art therapy. One of the new inmates doesn't seem to be very fond of me because he stabbed my hand with a pencil when I reached across the table for the glue. He wasn't supposed to have a pencil. Heaven knows how he got ahold of one.” He smiles placidly, pointing to a spot on the palm of his hand. “Right about there. Most of the graphite was removed, but it does seem that some has been left behind. I am likely to have a small gray tattoo for the rest of my life.”

“Fascinating,” Estela deadpans. “Have they taken away your hairbrush yet?”

Father rolls his eyes. “Yes, my dear. Since you managed to find out about that, all my personal effects have been confiscated. I may only use what toiletries they provide me with now.”

“You should have realized it would only be a matter of time before we figured out it had gone missing. And considering it has a tracking device...”

It does not actually have a tracking device. And the project is so old that no one at Rourke International has paid attention to it in at least fifteen years. And of course, Father knows that. I am sure he has guessed by now how we knew of the hairbrush-phone. But I take a chance on the belief that he does not wish to get Lila into legal trouble for smuggling a phone into a prison.

“I will concede I did not expect it to last. But I was so unbearably bored.” He pauses, tipping his head slightly. “But enough about me. How are you, my dear children? How are all your friends?”

“They are fine,” Estela growls. “All very well. No thanks to you.”

He smiles, a knowing, unsettling smirk, and his eyes shift from Estela to me and back again. He pins his gaze on my sister. She sets her jaw, glaring back at him with the cold defiance of a warrior facing interrogation by a sadistic enemy. I shiver slightly, knowing that with her past it is all too likely she lived that exact scenario before. I realize that I've gone rigid in my seat. There is a contest of wills about to take place here. The fencer in me can practically see them taking up their guard positions, my father in posta di fenestra, my sister in posta di donna.

“I see that you found my...present.” He leans forward slightly. “...How is our dear Ms. Chandler?”

Estela's expression wavers just for an instant, and I suppress a grimace. This is what I was afraid of. He means to trick her into giving away something, just as she means to do to him. Honestly, I am not sure who will win here. I don't feel perfectly safe betting for or against either of them. A hydra against a dragon. One a megalomaniacal master of manipulation, the other a warrior with a will of iron.

“She is home,” Estela answers coldly. “With her family.”

“How lovely. A family. Mother, father...perhaps brothers and sisters, too. No...that's not right, is it.” He sighs mockingly. “Poor little orphan girl. Well...maybe not poor...”

Estela narrows her eyes. “And what do you know of it? You took her from her family for five years. We thought she was dead. We mourned her.”

“No, you didn't. You thought she was gone. You knew she wasn't dead.”

“We assumed you had killed her,” I counter.

“Kill a specimen as unique as she? Of course not!”

“You don't know the first thing about her!” Estela snarls.

“I know what she is.”

“You don't know her any more than you know your own children. Not even the one you crafted so carefully. When are you going to wake up and realize where you are, Rourke? You're rotting in a criminal asylum while the son you rejected is running your empire alongside the daughter you never knew you had! He has your throne, your kingdom...he even has a loving partner.” Estela's eyes narrow. “...You couldn't even keep my mother in love with you.”

I feel my eyes widen as Estela's blow visibly lands. Genuine hurt flashes across my father's face before anger rushes in to take its place.

“...Olivia came back to me,” he growls.

“To support me. Your daughter. ...She never even told you about me, did she. You didn't figure it out until after I was already there. Even after your wife was gone, my mother didn't want you in my life.”

I turn away, covering a smile with my hand. Estela may be hitting below the belt, but I can't help but enjoy it. I should not have underestimated her. Given the color of my father's face right now, she may actually be winning. But then he shakes his head, and a placid smile settles back onto his face. He turns his gaze onto me.

“...Aleister, my boy. ...How is my grandson?”

I stiffen, feeling the breath rush from my body. “He is...well.”

“It is quite a legacy he was born into. ...The heir to two international industrial empires. One of the few things you did right in your life, wedding and bedding Grace Hall. In the old days of kings and queens, treaties would be built on a union like yours.”

“I love her!”

“An added bonus for you, of course. You're like Victoria and Albert. But without the incest. Tell me, does the boy ever get to see his maternal grandmother?”

“That's hardly any business of yours, Father.”

“I think we've overstayed our welcome,” Estela says flatly. “I'm ready to go. How about you, Aleister?”

“...Yes. Yes, I quite agree.”

We go through the motions of a goodbye, and make sure we collect his hairbrush-phone from the warden. We're silent on the way to the car. It's not until we're on the road that Estela breaks the silence.

“So. What did we actually learn?”

I am quiet for a moment, considering. “...One thing is for certain, he doesn't think everything is lost.”

She nods. “You're right. We've seen him despairing. He still thinks he can succeed in his goal. Whatever that goal really is.”

I sigh, rubbing my chin absently. “...What if Lila wasn't his only contact on the outside?”

She frowns. “Who else do you think he could control like he controls her?”

“...I don't know. It's just...I have a very bad feeling that he still has more influence than we know.”

Tahira

Grayson never believed I was dead. He never let anyone at Prescott Industries believe I was, either. In the aftermath of the battle, he was vocal in his belief that I was among the missing, but I was surely alive. There were quite a few people unaccounted for, but all the bodies they found were identified fairly quickly, so it seemed plausible. Once he learned for sure that I was alive, the official story around Prescott Industries was that I had been severely injured, and I was taking an extended leave of absence to recover. He builds up my return for a few days, and I practice limping around Mom's apartment with the aid of a cane until I've perfected the just-barely-limping limp. When I get back to work, I'm greeted with warm welcomes, a few questions about how I'm feeling, but no one seems suspicious. Mostly, they're just relieved that I'm okay. Even Marjorie gives me an awkward hug and then pretends it never happened. And I pretend the gesture didn't make me teary-eyed.

I'm only back at work for a few days before Halloween weekend is upon us. I volunteered to help serve drinks at The Grand all weekend. Without any time to put a real costume together, I decide to go with the wench costume I wore to the Rennaissance Faire a couple years ago. It's about as authentic as such a costume can be. I tuck the linen shirt into the green brocade skirt, and pull on the brown overskirt. My mother is helping me lace up the corset when my phone buzzes with a text from Grayson, letting me know he's downstairs. Mom grins when she sees the text over my shoulder.

“You be careful with that boy, sweetie,” she teases. “It's always a risk to date your boss.”

I snort. “Come on, Mom. I've known Grayson since college. He was my friend before he was my boss.”

She kisses my cheek. “I trust you, baby. Have fun tonight. I know you're supposed to be working, but have fun, too.”

“I will. You gonna be okay alone for the evening?”

“Of course. I'll be passing out candy to all the tiny monsters in this building. And if one of them attacks me, my daughter's Dragonness, and I know how to reach her.” She hands me my backpack. “Supersuit's in here, keep your phone in there, too, and keep it near you all night. Understand?”

I grin. “Yes, Mom. Thank you.” I kiss her cheek. “Love you.”

“Love you, too, baby girl.”

* * *

I have to laugh when I get downstairs and find Grayson standing outside the limo. He's dressed in an elegant pirate captain costume, complete with a velvet coat, tricorn hat, and a plastic cutlass. He grins when he sees me.

“Your mom told me what you were going as. I thought I'd make an effort to match.”

“Right. So, tonight I'm the plucky barmaid, and you're the handsome pirate who strolls into my seaside tavern looking for a tankard of ale.”

He laughs. “Roleplay. I like it. But alas, work awaits us. Shall we?”

He opens the door for me, and we slip into the car. As the partition rises between us and the driver, the limo glides away from the curb.

“Hey...how's your dad?”

His expression falls. “Mostly recovered. He'll be discharged soon. And then he goes under house arrest...”

I see his hand curl into a fist on his thigh. I reach over to cover his hand with mine.

“I'm sorry...I shouldn't have brought it up.”

“No, it's okay. You have a right to know.” He sighs. “Especially in light of everything Aleister and Estela told us about Rourke trying to contact him.”

I frown. “Has he...mentioned anything about that?”

“Nothing. And I can't get it out of him, either. I...honestly can't get very much out of him on any subject.”

“...I'm sorry, Grayson.”

He sighs, shaking his head. “It isn't your fault. I just...want to enjoy myself this evening, spending time with the woman I love, basking in one of my greatest achievements.”

“So far.”

“What?”

I smile, slipping my arm through his. “One of your greatest achievements so far. With many more to come, I'm sure.”

* * *

The Grand is already getting busy by the time we arrive. Costumed patrons form a less-than-orderly line outside the door, where Kenji checks ID's, dressed as Indiana Jones.

“Are you acting bouncer this evening?” I call as Grayson and I head toward the staff entrance. “I thought Craig Hsiao was going to lend a hand?”

“Yeah, but he's coming with Zahra, and they won't be here for a couple hours. You two go on in, though. I got this covered.”

“I'll come lend a hand as soon as Tahira's set up behind the bar,” Grayson promises.

True to his word, Grayson makes sure I'm settled behind the bar before stepping out to help Kenji check ID's. I tuck the backpack with my phone and supersuit under the bar and pull on an apron. I've got help this evening, thankfully. Skyler, the guy Poppy dated for all of five minutes, is serving with me tonight. There's also a muscular blonde woman who looks to be in her late forties named Jenny, dressed in skinny jeans and a black tank top that shows off the exquisite sleeve tattoos that cover her shapely arms. For the next few hours, I get swept up in my work, taking orders, serving drinks, collecting tips. Zahra's band arrives and starts setting up, which seems to take awhile. It's while this is going on that I notice the patron in the Guy Fawkes mask at the end of the bar. The mask seems to be a half-hearted attempt at coming in costume, since besides that, he's dressed in ripped jeans and a gray sweatshirt with the hood pulled up over his head. Something in his manner sets off alarm bells. I check that my bag is in my line of sight and sidle down the bar toward him.

“Can I get you something, Fawkes?” I ask. “You got a week before you're supposed to blow up Parliment, want a drink in the meantime?”

“I'm also on the wrong continent,” Fawkes replies. “I'll take a beer, though. Whatever's on tap.”

His voice sets off a shiver of recognition, but I can't quite place it yet. I list his options, and he makes his choice. I fill a frosted mug and set it in front of him.

“That's six dollars.” He pulls a small wad of cash from the pocket of his hoodie and peels off a five and three ones.

“Keep the change for yourself, hero.” He wraps his fingers around the handle of the mug and pulls it toward him. “For the record, I wouldn't need gunpowder to take down a government.”

Even before he lifts his mask to take a gulp of his beer, I realize who I'm talking to. I lower my voice to a whisper.

“Caleb?! What the hell are you doing here?! I thought you'd left the city?”

“I did. And I'm not back in town for long. I'm just here to warn you.”

“Warn me of what?”

The guitarist on stage strums a loud chord that blasts out from the speakers and reverberates through the club, making me jump. Caleb glances at the stage, then jerks his head toward the door.

“Sounds like they're about to start, and I don't want to shout. You got a minute?”

I hesitate just a moment before grabbing my backpack and slipping out from behind the bar. Caleb gulps the rest of his beer and pulls down his mask, sliding off the stool. Outside, in the shadow of an alley beside the club, he lifts it up again. I look sidelong at him.

“You know, I'm not sure whether I should be surprised at your attire or not. On the one hand, a Guy Fawkes mask is...frankly predictable. On the other hand, that you would wear a costume on Halloween at all is honestly surprising.”

He scowls a little. “It's not a costume, it's just a mask. And I'm not really looking to be recognized.”

“So...what do I need to be warned about?”

“...Talos or Minuet mention to you where I've been since you vanished?”

“Vaguely. They said you were out in the sticks, running with some squatter gang.”

He snorts. “They're more than that. Started out as a bunch of strays and runaways, sure. Then Gigi got ahold of them.”

“And who's Gigi?”

“That's the question for the ages. What I know is she's a sadistic psychobitch who knows how to keep her gang scared and loyal. Some people got the natural talent for that. I didn't question it until I realized that something about her reminded me of Stonewall.”

“...Is she a superhuman, too?”

“Not as far as I know. She might be, though. She's never been exposed to the crystal, that much I know for sure, because she's said as much. What I was realizing lately is that she moves and thinks and acts like someone who's got...training. Kinda training Stonewall had.”

I almost ask what he means, but then I go quiet as a memory creeps into my brain. The morning of the gala that changed my life forever, I came into work and spoke to Santiago about the recent string of burglaries. The thieves, he said, probably had military training.

“...Military?”

He nods. “She's been talking a lot about the Prism Crystal lately. She always knew I'd been exposed and I'd gotten power from it, but it's only in the last couple weeks that she's really been interested in asking questions and getting answers. ...She let slip that she'd seen something like the Prism Crystal before.”

My blood sizzles a warning that I can't place yet. “Yeah...? Where?”

“In the Caribbean, five or six years ago. ...Talked about a jewel there called the Island's Heart.”

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