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ladyseaheart1668 · 5 years

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Endless Summer Book 4 : Daughter of Vaanu (Chapter 39)

Description: As news breaks of Rourke’s supposed death, the Catalysts and the Heroes of Northbridge are left wondering where to go next.

Tagging: @mysteli @whatmcsaid @xo-endlessmayhem-xo @endlesshero1122 @feartheendlesssummer @tigerbryn11

Chapter 39

Intrigue, Danger, and Romance

Grace

A weighty silence has descended over the living room of Sean and Michelle's apartment. It's Sean who finally breaks it.

“...Then...he's still out there?”

“So it would seem,” my husband confirms wearily. As if sensing his father's distress, Reggie abandons the toys he was exploring in the corner and crawls over to put his hands on Aleister's knees and drag himself upright. Aleister smiles as he reaches down to lift Reggie onto his lap, but it's forced. He sits our son facing forward so as not to let him see when the smile slips away a moment later.

“But the authorities don't believe you?” Michelle presses. “Doesn't the institution have records of the pencil incident? Unless their standards of care are far below regulation, Rourke would have been treated, even for a minor injury like that, wouldn't he?”

“Yes,” Aleister confirms. “And he was. They have all the records. They also have dental records and DNA reports, and even security footage that appears to confirm that Father hanged himself in his room. Against all that, a single missing scar just doesn't seem to stand up. They admit it is unlikely a scar like that would have just faded, but they also say it is not impossible, and that is enough to confirm for them that Father is dead.”

“...But...you don't think there is any chance they're right?”

Aleister shrugs. “There is always a chance,” he admits.

“But it's not a very high one,” Estela counters flatly, her dark eyes narrow. “He is alive. I know he is. And he's planning something. And if the authorities aren't going to help us track him down to stop it, then it is up to us.”

“How are we supposed to do that?” I ask.

A mirthless smile crosses Estela's lips. “Did you forget who you're talking to? Or in fact, who you are? We're the Catalysts. Foiling Everett Rourke's evil plans is what we do.”

“To be fair, is has been five-and-a-half years now since we had to worry about that.”

“It's been nearly as long since I was a part of the revolution in San Trobida,” Estela counters. She stands up, and starts to pace “But for all that I am possibly a little rusty, I have not forgotten everything. With any luck, Rourke may leave an electronic trail that Zahra can pick up on. Jake will surely have some ideas, too. He knows a thing or two about being a man who doesn't want to be found. And now we have the Northbridge supers on our side, too.”

“Might want to break this news to Jake gently,” Sean warns. “He's already on edge with Alodia in her current condition.”

“I wasn't planning to just blurt it out over the phone,” Estela replies testily. “My point is, there are things we can do. Steps we can take to either confirm that Rourke is actually out there and planning something, or assure ourselves that he is well and truly dead.”

“And...if he is alive?” I prompt.

“We do whatever we must to stop him from doing whatever he plans to do. ...It isn't just Alodia and her baby I'm worried about. Suppose he has plans for Reggie, too?”

I have to admit that a knot forms in my stomach when she says that. I see Aleister's arms tighten subtly around our son.

“Why would he want anything to do with Reggie?” he asks, his voice slightly thin. “He doesn't want anything to do with me, why would my son--”

“Because however he feels about you, Reggie is still his grandson. And you heard the way he spoke about you and Grace together, too. What was it he said? 'The kind of match that empires are built on'? I wouldn't be surprised if he is hoping Reggie will be the heir he's always wanted.”

“You were the heir he always wanted,” Aleister grumbles. Then, apparently regretting his words, he blushes and glances away. Estela stops pacing and smiles bitterly.

“In the end, I was nearly as much of a disappointment as you were. Maybe moreso since I never even tried to appease him.”

There is another long, awkward silence. Finally, Quinn reaches out to take Estela's hand.

“Okay. So there are steps we can take. In the meantime though, at least on the surface, I believe we should act as though we believe he is dead. Which...means the two of you will need to decide how to dispose of the body.”

“Quinn's right,” Michelle agrees. “Whether that's actually Rourke in the morgue or not, those are human remains that legally belong to the two of you.”

The atmosphere shifts abruptly as Estela and Aleister exchange a bemused glance.

“Heavens...” Aleister murmurs dazedly. “Do...do you think we ought to have a funeral...?”

Kenji

I spent New Year's Eve at the Grand with Tahira, Grayson, Eva, Dax, and Poppy. New Year's Day, I slept in. But the next morning, I decide to surprise my mom by bringing her a bagel and a cup of tea from her favorite coffee shop. I have to get up pretty early in order to surprise her, but I manage it, arriving at her apartment just about when I expect she'll be getting up. In front of her apartment door, I pull out my spare key and let myself in. I can hear the shower running from the back bedroom bathroom as I step inside. I leave the bagel and tea on the kitchen table and wander back to the bedroom, where the door is just slightly ajar. I slip inside and knock on the door to the bathroom.

“Mom? It's Kenji!”

I hear a yelp from inside the bathroom. “God, Kenji! You startled me!”

“Sorry! I brought you breakfast!”

“You'd better have! As an apology for nearly making me slip in the shower!”

I laugh. “Love you, too, Mom! I'll be in the kitchen.”

“Love you, Kenji!”

I go back to the kitchen and find the coffee and the muffin I got for myself. It gets a little quiet for my taste, so I wander into the living room and sit down on the couch to turn on the television while I eat. I don't expect anything interesting to be on, but maybe there are some cartoons on. It's not a cartoon that ends up catching my eye, though.

“...Everett Rourke Sr, founder and former CEO of Rourke International, who has spent the last five years in an institution for the criminally insane for the kidnapping and attempted murder of twelve young men and women, was found dead in his room yesterday morning of an apparent suicide. His body was identified by his two children, Everett Aleister Rourke Jr. and Estela Montoya, who are his only living relatives. Mr. Rourke was sixty-one years old...”

“Well, isn't that a sobering way to start the new year,” I hear my mother mutter behind me. She's in her bathrobe, her wet hair secured on top of her head in a towel.

“'Sobering' is one word for it,” I concede. “...Can't say I'm very sorry he's gone, though.”

“No, I'm not either,” Mom admits. “I'm mostly sorry for his children.”

“From what I know, they didn't exactly like him very much.”

“Maybe not, but he was still their father. His death is bound to be hard on them in one way or another.” She bends to kiss the top of my head. “Do you have plans today?”

“Not as such. Might go to the gym. I'll probably call Dad and say Happy New Year.”

“Give him my regards if you do. Though I actually spoke to him a couple days ago. He says he and Satomi are planning some time off this summer so they can bring the girls over for a visit.”

“No way, really?” For a moment, excitement is enough to make me forget about what I just saw on the news. I was only about five when my folks divorced. I would come to understand that it was a mutual break-up, as nearly-painless as a divorce can ever be, and Mom and Dad have always been friendly with each other. But when I was twelve, Dad moved back to Tokyo to be with my aging grandmother. Since then, he's remarried and had two daughters. I'm fond of my step-mother and my two half-sisters, but I don't get to see them nearly as much as I'd like. I'm already eager to show off The Grand to them.

“That's the plan,” Mom confirms. “He warned me they don't have a date set in stone yet, but knowing your father, we'll still have at least six month's worth of warning.”

“Knowing Dad, he'll have a date and an itinerary set by the time I call him. ...So what's your day look like?”

Mom's face falls into a frown. “...Meeting with Silas Prescott and his lawyer.”

My excitement deflates, leaving anxiety behind. “Yeah? What for?”

“I don't know. Though if I did know, I probably couldn't tell you.”

“Right. That whole confidentiality thing, right?”

“That's right.”

I glance back at the television screen. The newscaster has moved on to other stories, but I can still hear her brief on Rourke echoing in my memory. I stand up.

“Hey...I should probably leave you to get dressed.”

“I'd protest, but you're right. I do have to get ready. Thank you for breakfast.”

I collect my half-eaten muffin and my coffee and move to kiss my mother's cheek, mumbling good-byes before I take off with my coat still draped over my arm. I've got a nagging feeling about Rourke's death, and I think I need to talk to Tahira.

Silas Prescott

I hear of Everett's death through the news like everyone else. It is on every news channel. The local paper has a piece on him featured prominently. Unlike most people, though, I know he is not truly dead. I'm not sure how he pulled it off, but I know it was part of his plan. I am also beginning to suspect that even my lawyer may be one of Everett's creatures. Four days ago, after telling me for months that I should fight against conviction, her advice has abruptly changed. And now we are preparing to meet with Meiko Katsaros while Everett's 'death' is still news hot off the presses.

My lawyer arrives early, dressed smartly and looking ready to do battle. Her name is Brittany Kempton, but to be honest, I have difficulty not calling her Marjorie. Though she is quite a bit younger than Marjorie, she is just as prickly. I suppose that is a quality one wants in a lawyer.

I have also dressed professionally. Although I am unable to leave my home to receive a proper haircut, I have made certain that my now shoulder-length hair has been neatly swept back and my beard has been trimmed. I am unwilling to give the District Attorney any reason to believe I am not coping with my captivity.

Ms. Kempton and I go over things before Meiko arrives, though we do not have much time to practice before the doorbell chimes. The moment I answer the door is...admittedly awkward. For a pregnant moment, we don't speak. Finally, Meiko clears her throat.

“Silas. Hello. ...I would say it is a pleasure, but...”

“But it isn't. I understand. Please, come inside.” I step aside and she accepts my offer, crossing the threshold into my guilded prison. Silence returns as she stands in the foyer, casting a critical eye over me, her lips wrinkled as if she's tasted something sour. Then her expression softens subtly.

“How are you faring? Are your needs being met?”

“Considerate of you to ask.”

“It's not a kindness. You may be a criminal, but I wouldn't let you continue in any situation that was truly inhumane. You're entitled to sufficient food, medical care, exercise...if your heat goes out or a pipe bursts, you're entitled to get it fixed.”

“At the moment, my needs are met,” I assure her. “Would you care for anything? Coffee? Tea? Water?”

“No, thank you. My son bought me tea this morning.”

“Such a thoughtful young man. I suppose then we should get right down to business. Ms. Kempton is waiting for us in the living room.”

She follows me to where the lawyer has settled herself on the sofa and spread her paperwork out over the coffee table. I take a seat beside Ms. Kempton, keeping a reasonable professional distance between us, and gesture for Meiko to have a seat in the armchair set up for her. Underneath the piles of legal paperwork peeks the folded edge of my morning newspaper, still turned to the story on Everett's life and alleged death.

“I suppose you have heard of the death of Everett Rourke,” I remark as she settles herself.

“I have.” She pauses a moment. “The two of you had a...rocky history, if I recall.”

“We had a falling out many years ago, yes. But before that we were quite close friends.”

“I suppose it is appropriate to say that I am sorry for your loss, then.”

“Your sentiments are appreciated.” I chuckle mirthlessly. “But listen to me. I talk about getting down to business, and I immediately bring that up...”

Meiko pauses for a moment, eyeing me critically. Then her expression settles into something I can't quite read. “...It must have been a shock to wake up to this morning.”

“That it was.” There is a long stretch of silence, with Ms. Kempton looking back and forth between us as if waiting for one of us to remember her presence. “I suppose I should let my lawyer explain why I asked you here today.”

“I had been wondering,” Meiko confirms, and turns her gaze on the lawyer. Ms. Kempton clears her throat.

“My client would like to see about a plea bargain.”

“I see. And what is he offering?”

“A guilty plea, information on the criminals known as Stonewall and the Man on Fire.”

Meiko frowns, folding her arms. “And what is he asking in return? People are dead because of him.”

“He recognizes that. Which is why he is not asking for freedom. Only that he be permitted to serve out his sentence under house arrest.”

“His sentence is likely to be life,” Meiko replies flatly.

“I am aware of that as well,” I assure her before the lawyer can answer for me. “I am aware that I am turning my home into my prison. I expect by the end of my days, I will have come to hate it. But I would sooner hate my own home than never see it again, if I have a choice.”

“I'm not sure I should give you one,” Meiko replies sharply. “As I said, people are dead because of your greed and megalomania.”

I sigh. “You still think I was making a genuine grab for power. Of course. What else would you think. I designed it to look that way.”

“What else would it be?”

“It doesn't really matter, does it? I failed either way. And until recently, I was prepared to fight for my freedom.”

Meiko is an intelligent woman. She knows I am leading her to ask a particular question. I can see in her eyes that she is debating whether she should take the bait. Her mouth twitches and her shoulders slump subtly as she decides to take the risk.

“...What changed?”

“At first, I think, I was just tired. The weight of my failure, the strain this has put on my relationship with my son... I was in denial at first, but then I started to feel broken. Defeated. I agreed to change my plea because I thought perhaps there was a chance I could at least choose my own prison. Then, this morning, I read that my old friend had died. I turned on the television, and there was his picture on my screen. And something else was clarified for me.” I meet her eyes. “...Do you know why I fell out with Everett Rourke?”

“The details were never made public, unlike nearly everything else about both of you,” she replies. “I always assumed it had something to do with business.”

“That would make sense. We're the two industrial technology giants of the world, though in many ways, Everett always outpaced me. It would make logical sense that we might have an Edison/Tesla dynamic. But that wasn't it. ...Everett Rourke killed my wife.”

All successful attorneys need to have a decent poker face. To Meiko's credit, she doesn't flinch at this revelation, but I read people well enough to pick up on the subtle signs of surprise.

“Did he?” she asks impassively.

“It was an accident,” I clarify. “That's what all my biographies and my page on Wikipedia will tell you. Everett wasn't even anywhere near her when it happened. But make no mistake, it was an accident of his making. And for that, I turned him out of my life. He had been like a brother to me. But when he caused me to lose the most important person in the world, I disowned him.”

Meiko is still stoically taking this all in. But her hands, folded in her lap with their impeccable manicure and softness carefully maintained by designer lotions, are unnaturally stiff. The subtle extention of her fingers creates sharp peaks and valleys at her knuckles as her contracted tendons push against the underlayers of her skin. I lean forward.

“...As you said, Meiko, people died the day I goaded Dragonness into a battle against me. That was not my intention. But I know that I am far more culpable in their deaths than Everett ever was in Helena's. I'm not saying I suddenly believe Everett was blameless. But there is a difference an engineer whose hubris causes him to overlook a risk in his design because he believes it to be small, and one who purposefully designs and creates a thing with inferior materials for his own selfish reasons. I didn't go into that day with plans to kill anyone, but I also took no extraordinary measures to ensure that no one died.” I meet Meiko's eyes and hold them. “I am not looking for freedom anymore, Meiko. I deserve imprisonment. But if there is any chance at all of it, I only ask that I be permitted to choose where.”

Meiko sits silent and motionless as stone. Beside me, Ms. Kempton takes off her glasses and sets them on the coffee table, leaning back. The gesture feels like one of satisfaction. I wait just long enough to be certain that my story has sunk in.

“Well, Meiko? Do we have a deal?”

Alodia

I guess I should be upset that Rourke has once again proven he isn't done with me. That there's yet another danger lying in wait for me and my family, my beloved Catalysts, and there is nothing for me to do but stay alert and wait for it to reveal itself. But I mostly feel tired. I'm tired of staying alert. I'm tired of being scared. I'm tired of Rourke's shadow hanging over everything about my new life. I'm pretty sure Diego and Jake pick up on this pretty quick. I'm sure Varyyn knows. He never enters my thoughts without permission, but I know I can generally always feel his surface emotions as long as I'm physically close enough.

After sitting with the news of Rourke's deception and disappearance for awhile, I come to the conclusion that I have a choice: either I can let the fear and uncertainty consume me, or I can let it go and live my life, concentrate on enjoying my time with my family until something comes along that I can face. One option weakens me against my enemy. One strengthens me. I know which one I need to choose. I relay this to my nuclear family over dinner a few days into the new year.

“I definitely see where you're coming from, Princess,” Jake says, pushing his steamed broccoli into his mashed potatoes with the back of his fork, “but you know I can't help bein' scared.”

“I'm not asking you not to be scared. I'm not asking anyone not to be scared, or not to think about how we can stay ahead of Rourke. All I'm asking is that it not be allowed to run our lives. I was given a second chance to be with all of you. To have a life with all of you. I can't let fear take that chance away from me. ...Or from River. In a few months, she'll be here. She'll come in her time, whether we're ready or not. I don't want the first part of our child's life to be defined by fear, either.”

Jake sighs, putting down his fork and reaching over to take my hand. He brings it to his mouth to press his lips against my knuckles.

“I don't want that, either,” he admits. “...I'll try to live normal as possible, Princess. I promise.”

“Um...on that note,” Diego says somewhat sheepishly, raising his hand as if he's in a classroom. “There's something I've been wanting to bring up. I'm not sure if you guys are aware of what a week from Friday is...?”

“...The twelfth of January?” Mike volunteers uncertainly.

“Well, yes. But in Elyys'tel, it's Niala'rei.” He takes Varyyn's hand. “...Our anniversary. And yours, too, for that matter.”

I exchange a startled glance with Jake. “I...don't think I ever knew the calendar date for Niala'rei,” I admit.

“I did,” Jake confesses. “But for the last five years, I spent it getting drunk alone. Guess I've been so caught up in baby prep since so soon after I got you back that I didn't really think about the anniversary.”

“I kinda had a feeling that was the case,” Diego says. “Normally, Varyyn and I do something special at home together or we find someplace secluded at night. But...this year, thanks to Dax's Christmas present, I wanted to celebrate by taking him out someplace special and public. I thought maybe you two could come along? We had a double wedding. Now that we're all in one place, why not have a double anniversary party? We could at least try it this year, see how it works out.”

“What did you have in mind?” I ask.

He grins. “Well, my first thought was Disneyland, but maybe that would be better saved for when River is old enough to enjoy it. My second thought was something simple but fun, like spending Saturday at Santa Monica Pier. It's winter, so there won't be any concerts or anything, but we can ride the ferris wheel, and go to the arcade and the acquarium, have a couple nice meals, do some shopping. If we go up on Friday, we could spend the night in a hotel.”

“I...could get behind that...” Jake says slowly, though his expression doesn't look very sure. Mike lightly punches his shoulder.

“Why the hesitation, Grandpa? Not that I know anything about Santa Monica Pier, but it sounds like a perfectly enjoyable way to spend your anniversary. You definitely deserve it, and God knows your wife does, too.”

“Totally not disputing that. Just...feels kinda surreal to be thinking about my wedding anniversary...”

“It's a little surreal for me, too,” I agree, squeezing his hand. “Probably even moreso for you. But I think it's a good idea. We don't have to think of it as our wedding anniversary if that's too much to think about right now. It could just be us taking a well-deserved break from baby-prep.”

Jake finally cracks a smile. “Ahh, what the hell. I'm in.”

With that decision made, the mood at the dinner table shifts to something much calmer and happier. Conversation is light and animated. Jake and Mike volunteer to clean up the kitchen, and Diego eagerly suggests he and I set up in the den and watch a movie. Apparently, he's been compiling a list of the must-see movies from the five years I missed.

“It's gonna take months to get through them all, but there's no rush. We can grab one here and there whenever we both have time in the evening.”

“Sounds like a plan. What's first on the list?”

“Tender Nothings,” Diego answers, grinning. “You'll love this one. Matt Rodriguez, Victoria Fontaine...plus, it has the craziest behind-the-scenes story.”

“What about the actual story?”

“No spoilers, it's terrific. One of Varyyn's favorites.”

I raise an eyebrow at Varyyn, who smiles placidly, shrugging. “It stirs my heart and makes me feel grateful for what I have. Particularly, a partner who is loving and honest.”

“I feel like that tells me something about the story already. Okay, Diego, I'm in. Anyone want to join us?”

“I'll pass,” Jake says. “I'll let you two have your buddy-bonding time.”

“In that case, Grandpa, how about we have our own buddy-bonding time? I could take you out to a bar, buy you a couple rounds, shoot some pool?”

“It's a thought. ...Though we've still got some beers left over from New Year's in the fridge. Not to mention a game room right here, complete with a pool table.”

“Yes, but you see the point is to actually get out of the house.”

Jake hesitates, slipping me a sidelong glance. There's worry clouding his sky-blue eyes. I take his hand and smile gently.

“Go on, Top Gun. Take a leap of faith and assume I'll be fine if you leave my side for a few hours.” I lean over to kiss his cheek, and stage-whisper, “Besides, I think Mike might be looking for a wingman.”

Mike rolls his eyes. “Thanks for pointing that out, Goldilocks.”

“I got your back, Darwin,” I reply, winking.

“Well, okay,” Jake agrees. “But only because if I say no, you'll probably go alone and get yourself in trouble.”

“Your confidence in me is touching.”

“Hey, Varyyn, maybe you could tag along?” Diego suggests. “...If you guys don't mind, that is?”

Varyyn raises an eyebrow at his husband. “Really? You would want me to go to a bar without you?”

I can't help but notice the slight blush in Diego's cheeks, or the barely perceptible stammer when he answers, “H-hey, it's not like I don't trust you. And I just thought...maybe you'd like a change of scene...”

Varyyn frowns. “...My love, are you trying to get rid of me?”

“Of course not! I love you! It's just...I...” He trails off as the barest trace of a mischievous smile appears on Varyyn's lips. “...You're teasing me, aren't you.”

Varyyn laughs, drawing Diego close to him and kissing his forehead. “Yes, I am. Sorry, my darling, but you make it easy sometimes. I suspect you're interested in spending the evening with Alodia, and I fully understand that. I'll keep out of your hair.” He looks over at Jake and Mike. “If I would not be intruding on someone else's evening, I would love to join you both. Otherwise, I will find another way to occupy myself.”

“I'm for it,” Mike says, shrugging. “Another unavailable, married man talking me up has gotta increase the odds, right?”

“Unlikely,” Jake quips. “But let's not turn down good help.”

Within about half an hour, Varyyn, Jake, and Mike are heading out to enjoy the Laguna Beach night life. Meanwhile, Diego and I set up in the living room with popcorn and lemonade. Just before he starts the movie, Diego pauses, hesitating.

“So...I have a confession to make, Allie...”

“Uh-oh. Should I be worried?”

He grins a little. “Nothing to be worried about. ...I was actually trying to get rid of Varyyn for a few hours. I want you to help me with something I'm planning.”

Caleb

So. Everett Rourke is dead. That's a goddamn wrench in my plans. I run out of cigs late Saturday afternoon and decide to visit what is quickly becoming my favorite convenience store. It's a bit of a hike from where I'm currently set up—in biting cold and encroaching darkness to boot—but I feel like the walk might help me get my head on straight. I gotta regroup. Come up with something else to get Tahira and her team to trust me. I hate admitting it, but I really can't do shit without them in this situation. I guess I could just bail and let them handle it. But...I don't want to. Fuck me, I'm going soft.

“Caleb? Is that you?”

The voice is high and childish, and it startles me. I turn around to find none other than Ysabel scooting down the sidewalk toward me, looking like a colorful marshmallow in her oversized puffy winter coat. She skids to a stop beside me, grinning. I raise an eyebrow at her.

“What're you doing way out here by yourself?”

“I was at the movies with my friend. But Dylan's almost done with work, so I decided to meet him here to walk home with him.”

“This isn't the number one best neighborhood in Northbridge, kiddo. You shouldn't be out here alone.”

She gives me a smile that can only be described as cheeky. “Well, I'm not alone now, am I?” I roll my eyes.

“Don't get cute, you little marshmallow. You're lucky I'm heading in the same direction.”

I resume walking. I'm not sure why I bother, but I slow my pace so she can keep up with me. I guess I have to admit I kinda have a soft spot for kids who've been screwed over. Plus this one is kinda hard not to like a little. I shove my hands in my pockets while I walk, though. I'm not really ready to offer her a hand to hold. ...Besides, she's old enough to cross the street by herself. Just not old enough or big enough to defend herself from sickos who'd see a preteen girl out by herself as a target.

“Are you going to buy cigarettes at Dylan's store?” she asks.

“First of all, it ain't Dylan's store. But yeah. I'm out of my smokes. Plus I want a burrito. They got really good burritos.”

Ysabel makes a face. “I don't like the burritos. They upset my stomach.”

“That's probably the beans. Beans make you fart, you know.”

Ysabel rolls her eyes. “Yes, I know. I'm eleven.” She sighs. “Aren't you too old to think farts are funny?”

I snort. “You're never too old to think farts are funny.”

“But why are they funny? Because they make a noise? Because they come out your butt? Because they're stinky?”

“All of the above.”

“I just don't get it,” she sighs. She looks so world-weary that I can't help laughing.

“That's 'cause you're already an old lady.” I nudge her shoulder with my elbow, just hard enough to make her step forward a little.

“I'm younger than you,” she replies haughtily.

“Yeah, in body you are. But you've got one of those mature souls that's already got wrinkl...” I trail off as we round the corner just outside the store, stopping in my tracks before I've even realized I've done it. Reflexively, I reach out and grasp Ysabel's shoulder, stopping her from proceeding.

Gigi is leaning against the convenience store's brick facade, a burning cigarette fixed between the first two fingers of her right hand. She looks every inch the indomitable biker chick, and the guy she's with probably looks to the rest of the world like her hardened criminal boyfriend. But I know who he actually is. He's not showing off his power right now, but I don't need him to have granite skin to recognize Stonewall.

“Caleb?” Ysabel sounds suitably concerned. “What's wrong?”

Her voice alerts my past and current bosses to my presence. Gigi grins wolfishly at me, licking her teeth like she's imagining how I'll taste. I squeeze Ysa's shoulder before releasing her and giving her a light push towards the store's entrance.

“Go inside. Find your cousin.” My tone doesn't leave room for argument, and she does as I tell her. I shove my hands back in my pocket and approach the waiting pair of predators, fixing my face in an easy grin.

“Well, well, well,” I drawl. “What a small world. I didn't know you guys knew each other.”

“Real funny, New Guy,” Stonewall growls. “The lady tells me it was your tip that told her where to find me.”

Ohhhh, shit. I've been at this life long enough to know immediately that I'm in trouble—and to be struck by a strong sense of injustice, because there is no way it's my fault. I never told Gigi shit about Stonewall. But I also know better than to immediately deny it. Gotta play this smooth. I shrug, smiling placidly.

“I don't usually see you this deep in the city, G. What's the occasion?”

“I've heard tell Everett Rourke's dead.”

“Yeah. I heard that, too.” I decide to take a calculated risk. “...Am I in trouble for that?”

Gigi laughs. “You can't be blamed for a lunatic offing himself, can you?”

“I didn't tell him to do it.”

“Didn't think so. Still, I think it's time we take our attention off of the Island's Heart anyway. It's likely gone, just like he said. We should focus on what we do have, which is the Prism Crystal.”

“Yeah? I thought you said the Prism Crystal was junk next to the Island's Heart.”

“It is. All other things being equal, if you were given a choice between a flip phone and a state-of-the-art smartphone with all the bells and whistles, the choice is obvious. But you'd also still take the flip phone over a telegraph machine.”

“I...am not really following the metaphor.”

“The metaphor isn't the point. The point is that we're going to get our hands on the Prism Crystal.”

I can't keep up the poker face. I feel my placid smile dropping off my face and crashing at my feet. I look between Gigi and Stonewall.

“...Are you serious...?”

“It can be done. Your friend here has broken into Prescott Industries before, remember?”

“Yeah, I remember. I was there. I'm not doubting that it can be done. It won't be easy, though.”

Gigi reaches out to pat my cheek. I feel the tips of her candy apple-colored nails gently grazing my skin.

“Nothing fun is ever easy, sweetie,” she purrs.

“What do you even expect to do with it? You don't know anything about how it works...”

“I know it turned you boys into freaks. Albeit powerful freaks. Seems like a fair place to start, getting me in on that action.”

“It might not work on you. It don't work on everyone.”

“And it might work perfectly on me.” She moves her hand with the speed of a striking snake, grasping my jaw between her thumb and fingers and squeezing hard. Her fingernails press uncomfortably into my flesh, and saliva pools behind my lips. “Why shouldn't I have the chance to try?”

There's really no safe answer to that question. I mumble something vaguely concillatory and she lets me go, patting my cheek a little harder this time.

“Your job now,” she continues, “is to wait for my instructions. I will tell you how you can be of use when I know. In the meantime, lay low. Is that clear.”

I don't meet her eyes as I rub my jaw. “...Yeah. Yeah, I hear you.”

“Good boy.” Gigi cocks her head, grinning wickedly. “By the way, who was that little friend of yours? The one you were walking with?”

My eyes snap to her face, and I feel them go narrow. “No one you need to be concerned about,” I growl. There's a warning note in my voice. Gigi thinks she has me under her control for the most part, and for the most part, she's right. But we're both also aware that I could kill her if I had a mind to. All that stops me is knowing her loyal child army would find a way to end me, and the others would be left without protection. But if she crosses a line, I might pull that trigger. And Gigi doesn't know exactly where that line is. My one advantage is to keep her guessing.

Gigi eyes me critically, and I can see her debating whether to push it. But finally she shrugs.

“Whatever. She looks like the weak, fluffy type anyway.” She takes a final long drag on her cigarette and breathes the smoke into my eyes, chuckling when I wince. She drops the butt on the sidewalk and grinds it under the heel of her boot. “See you around, Caleb. Don't get into trouble in the meantime.”

They both depart, going their separate ways. For a moment, I stand frozen, reluctant to move until I'm sure they're gone. But before that happens, I find myself spun roughly around by my shoulder and pushed against the store's brick facade. A metallic forearm presses against my windpipe as I stare into a pair of furious bronze eyes.

“You wanna tell me what the hell that was?!” Talos snarls.

“What the hell what was?!” I snap back, my voice strained by the lack of air he's allowing me. “Are you talking about that ambush by Stonewall and Gigi?”

“It didn't look like much of an ambush to me. In fact, it sounded a lot like you've been feeding them information!”

“I haven't fed them shit! Listen...” I lower my voice, nodding over his shoulder. “You think we could maybe not do this in front of the kids?”

Talos turns to look and sees Dylan standing behind us with his arm around Ysabel's shoulders. They both look confused and a little worried. Talos slowly releases me, stepping back just far enough that he's not bearing down on me anymore, but still close enough to grab me if I tried to take off. I adjust my clothes, nodding at the kids.

“You two get on home, okay? Talos and I have grown-up stuff to discuss.”

Dylan and Ysabel exchange a look. Finally, Dylan sighs, steering his cousin away from us. “Just don't kill each other,” he mutters. “I don't want my shift tomorrow to be cancelled because the store's become a crime scene.”

I look back at Talos as the pair head down the sidewalk and turn a corner. “Think we can avoid costing the kid his shift tomorrow?”

“What do you really care? I would have thought legitimate employment would offend your anarchist sensibilities.”

I shrug. “Yeah, sure. But have you tasted the burritos at this place? I guess if I'm dead I won't really care about burritos. But I'm betting you care a lot more about that kid keeping his shift.”

Talos folds his arms, his bronze face twisting into a deep scowl. “You don't want me to kill you, you'd better start explaining what was going on back there.”

“What's to explain? Gigi and Stonewall are plotting to steal the Prism Crystal. How they ended up in contact with each other, I don't know. I didn't tell Gigi shit. I didn't even know where Stonewall was. The good news is, you know they're going to make an attempt to steal it, so you can warn Grayson and come up with a plan to protect it, yeah?”

Talos' mouth twitches as he processes what I'm saying. I feel my heart knocking anxiously against my ribs. I don't think for a second this is gonna be enough to make Talos totally trust me, but it's at least gotta win me a couple points, right?

“How do I know you're not playing both sides here? I overheard everything. I knew what they were planning before talking to you, and I could've warned Grayson without ever talking to you. You could be playing me by suggesting it, and the minute I'm gone, you'll find one of those two and warn them so they set a trap for us.”

“So don't include me in the planning process. I won't know what you're planning to do, and I won't be able to tell the would-be thieves. ...And if you could have warned Grayson without ever talking to me, why jump me just now? If you think I'm planning to double-cross you, you could have kept your advantage by not letting me know you were here.”

Talos' face registers shock, which is actually kind of hilarious in bronze. I smirk as the full implication of my question sinks in and he scowls again.

“You know what I'll do to you if Tahira ends up getting hurt, don't you?”

“Whatever it is, it's not gonna be enough to get you into her supersuit.”

“And winning my trust and gaining a place on the team isn't going to get you in there, either,” he retorts. “But if that's the whole reason you're doing this, you're going to fail anyway.”

It's my turn to scowl. I'm speechless a little too long, and Talos steps back, folding his arms with a self-satisfied smile.

“Don't worry. I don't actually believe you're doing this because you've got a thing for Tahira. I don't know why you're actually doing it, but I doubt Tahira is your type.” His smug expression shifts back to a scowl. “Tahira is my friend and my teammate. I'm looking out for her because it's what friends do. Whether or not she actually needs my protection she has it. And anyone who hurts her will quickly learn exactly what that means.”

I sneer, feeling my hands curl into fists at my side. “If you actually care about her, then stop threatening me and warn her that there's a fucking plot afoot to steal the Prism Crystal.” I turn on my heel, marching into the store. “I'm going to get my smokes.”

Alodia

“Will you look at that!” As Jake steers my car into a graceful merge onto the highway, I gaze appreciatively down at the rectangle of thin plastic in my hand. A smiling image of Varyyn in his holographic disguise gazes back at me. “A genuine fake ID.”

“It's not a fake ID,” Diego protests indignantly. “That's a completely legitimate California state identification card! We got it at the DMV and everything!”

“Yeah, you just gave them a fake birth certificate and a fake social security number. Not to mention a fake surname, Mister Vaanti.” I grin as I pass the ID card back to Varyyn through the gap between the front seats. Jake glances at the rearview mirror and the two men in the backseat.

“Did Zahra say where she got that social?”

“I didn't actually ask,” Diego admits. “I did make her promise not to use one from a living person. But I figure it's best I don't actually know. ...Zahra did suggest that we could use the birth certificate to apply for a legit social, but...it all seemed like it would take too long that way.”

Diego meets my eyes and we exchange a meaningful glance. He has a very good reason for not wanting to wait.

“Well, for my part, I trust Varyyn not to misuse the social of someone who isn't using theirs anymore. And I trust Zahra to cover everyone's tracks.” I manuever myself in my seat, fussing with my seatbelt.

“You all right?” Jake asks.

“Fine. My seatbelt just started riding up a little when I reached back.” I manage to get the lap belt settled under my belly and sit back with a sigh. “God, I feel like I'm getting bigger by the day. I can't believe how long I still have left.”

As I cradle my belly, Jake takes one hand off the wheel just long enough to place it over mine and squeeze lightly.

“It's gonna fly by,” he murmurs. I glance over and see him smiling dreamily even as he watches the road. “We're gonna wonder where all the time went.” He removes his hand and replaces it on the wheel.

“I'm glad you talked us into this, Diego. Once the baby is born it will be so much harder to find time for ourselves. It'll be nice to have a romantic weekend while we still can.”

“I'm glad I talked you into this, too. But you know that you'll have plenty of help with River, too. When you two need a break from the baby, you'll only have to say the word and we'll work something out.”

“Of course. Because you're going to be the best godfather my kid could ask for.”

“Aww, Allie. You're gonna make me blush.”

Conversation turns to baby-talk for awhile. Beginning with our collective excitement over River's impending arrival, then I confess what I realize are completely natural fears about the process of giving birth and the potential for complications. The men around me are confident, though. I'm strong, they tell me. Young and healthy, and my whole pregnancy has been progressing normally so far. There is plenty of reason to be optimistic. Besides, it's 2024, and we'll have all the modern advantages available to us. Everything will be fine, and once my daughter is born, I won't be the only lady in the house anymore.

Talk drifts slowly toward Sean and Michelle's wedding. Once they settled on California, of course we offered the beach house for the reception. With Sean's football star salary, it isn't like they are short of cash, but there's no reason to spend more than they have to. Besides, they have two weeks off, and most of it is going to be spent on their honeymoon. I know Sean would rather spend his money spoiling Michelle with gifts than on the wedding itself if he can help it. And since he has friends with a beach house and a friend who is willing to cater, he'll have plenty to spare.

They're planning to spend the first part of their honeymoon in the Caribbean, with at least a few days on La Huerta. It was a decision that surprised me a little, considering that they have been to the island every summer for the last few years, but as they explained, it is an important part of their history together. Besides, they've also booked a tour of Japan for the last week.

Jake and Mike were planning to fly them to Santo Domingo and ferry them out to La Huerta on a yacht, then pick them up a few days later. Jake is nervous about leaving me so close to my due date, but as it stands, I'm encouraging him to go ahead. Barring any complications between now and then, I'll still have a month left and he'll only be gone for a few days. Besides, it isn't as if Sean and Michelle wouldn't understand if we had to get someone to fill in for him if it comes to that. There's a reason Quinn is the back-up Maid of Honor.

“I'm kinda looking forward to this, honestly,” Jake admits. “I missed Grace and Aleister's wedding, and I'm sorry for it now?”

“...You did?”

He risks glancing at me long enough to give me a sad smile before he looks at the road again. “...It came at a bad time for me. I...didn't really trust myself to handle it well. It was selfish of me, really.”

Diego reaches up to squeeze his shoulder briefly. “No one blamed you, Jake.”

“Yeah, I know. And I really don't know if I could've handled watching it all unfold when I was hurting like I was. But...I missed seeing two of my friends get married. And I regret that.”

I reach over to stroke his arm. “This time, we'll be able to be there together.”

“Yeah...yeah, we will.”

He smiles as he flips the turn signal to the right and exits the highway. As we approach our destination, I lower my sun visor and pretend to be checking my makeup. In fact, I am watching Varyyn's face as it slowly dawns on him that we're heading toward an airport. A wrinkle of confusion appears in the skin of his forehead, deepening as Jake pulls into the valet parking lane and puts the car in park.

“Okay, everybody out,” he says cheerfully, popping the trunk. “Grab your bags.”

We climb out of the car and move to collect our meager luggage from the trunk while Jake deals with the valet.

“Is...Santa Monica further than I thought it was?” Varyyn asks uncertainly. “I didn't think we had to fly there.”

As the valet climbs into the driver's seat and we step up onto the curb with bags in hand, Diego winds his free arm around Varyyn's waist.

“We don't. We'll spend Sunday at the pier, but tonight and tomorrow, I arranged for something else.”

“Oh? What might that be?”

“Well...how much have you picked up about Las Vegas?”

“You mean 'Sin City'?” Varyyn replies with a wry smile. “Where people go to gamble and generally behave foolishly?”

“And have a really good time doing so,” Jake points out. I elbow him lightly, shushing him.

“Vegas is also kind of the wedding capital of the world,” Diego remarks. “Because Nevada marriage licenses are really easy to get.”

Varyyn seems to sense the direction the conversation is headed, but I don't think the penny has quite dropped yet. He looks bemusedly over at me and Jake. Diego sets his bag down and turns to take both of Varyyn's hands in his own, capturing his lover's attention again.

“Varyyn, we've been fasted partners for six years now. You are my life, my love, and the other half of my soul. Whatever else happens, I have faith that we will be together until death parts us. And since we were handfasted, we've decided to make our home in California, where I was born and raised.”

“D-Diego...are you...?”

I grab Jake's hand, grinning like an idiot as Diego gets down on one knee and pulls a velvet box out of his pocket.

“I've got everything arranged for us. All I need is for you to say yes. So...” he opens the box, revealing the elegant silver ring I helped him pick out only a couple nights ago, “...Varyyn, love and light of my life, will you do me the honor of wearing my ring and becoming my lawfully wedded husband?”

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