GENTRY

27

The stairs creak, but they have nowhere to run.

The feet are the first thing to appear. Worn boots, combat boots specifically. Then his legs, and his torso, until finally his curly mess of hair is plain to see. Artemis has a five o'clock shadow. He looks older, then again, he is probably older. He smiles when he sees them.

"Ahh," he sighs in relief, "so, I don't have to explain it to you then. Excellent."

Ez doesn't feel the need to vocalize that he is Poppy's twin. It is obvious to them all. With names like Artemis and Apoline, how could they be anything but siblings?

Luis is not shocked either. Artemis is made of the same clay that Poppy is. It's clear to see, how similar some of their features are. It's a wonder he didn't see it earlier. It seems that Poppy has slipped from his memory.

"What's your game plan, Prevost?" Kai says the name like it's a slur. In some ways, it is almost as evil. Nearly as rotten.

Artemis laughs. Briar has heard the sound before, and it sounds no different now. Just as light, just as soft. She leans in closer to Ellie. Briar does not enjoy being duped. She has always been the savviest, the most politically minded. It is clear to see that she is hardly her father's daughter.

"Please, that was my father's name," Artemis laughs. "You can call me Arty."

Felix shuffles himself so that he is in front of Evelyn. He is petrified of dying, afraid of being injured, but more afraid of looking cowardly in the face of danger.

"If you prefer Arty, why not call yourself that instead of Artemis?" Jetta asks. Her hands are slippery from sweat.

Artemis laughed, "I wanted to see if you were all as clever as you thought. Artemis and Apolline, brought to Earth from the Heavens. Obviously, you are not very smart at all."

Ellie wants to know what his game is. Both of his hands are visible, so he is unarmed. Clearly, he is mourning his sister, but he was suspicious enough to invade them. What would make him wonder if there was foul play when they have everyone else but The Divide confused?

Tom clears his throat, "so, your Poppy's sister. And? We barely knew her."

"You may be an actor, but off-stage you are not very convincing," Artemis says.

He continues to stand in front of the eleven of them, who are crowded together against the wall. Evelyn is in the back, hidden, but the rest of them have a clear line of sight to his grin. He takes a step closer, but none of them flinch.

"Come," he instructs, "let's have a seat."

He takes a few steps backwards, and gestures for them to take a spot along the sectional. They file over, one by one.

Evelyn's body has gone so stiff she can't move. Tears leak out of her eyes. She is petrified, more so than when they were shot at in the water, or when the house burnt down, or when they all worked together to make sure Poppy would choke to death on her absinthe.

"What do you think is going on?" Roman asks, the last one to take their seat. Their shoulders are hunched, their head slung. They won't be able to talk about this in therapy either. Will they even make it to therapy? They are tired of clawing for life. They are trapped in the slowest quicksand to ever exist. It is hard to forgive oneself for trying to live.

"You think I'm here to answer your questions?" Artemis, or Arty, or the other Prevost twin, shakes his head. "No. That's not how this is going to work."