Alternative Tactics

Ch. 8: Intel is a Stupid Word

"Wow," I breathed, my stomach ache momentarily forgotten as I took in the sight. It was magnificent, with pillars in the front, but mostly Victorian-style architecture. It was about three floors high, with a sort of tower coming out of the side that had a fourth floor, long windows with curtains drawn across them, and Gothic trim decorating the bottom of the roof. Helena pulled up to the front, where there was a single, wide door, carved with a pattern I couldn't see from here. "You live here?" I asked Helena. She kept her face blank.

"Currently." She quipped. She put the car in park and then turned it off, pulling out the keys and gracefully exiting the car. Cyric and I followed her lead and got out as well, bringing our backpacks with us. Helena led us to the front door where she slipped a rusted key into the lock and jiggled it about for a second before it fit properly and the door unlocked. None of Helena's movements were without purpose. Fluidly, and elegantly, she pulled the key out of the lock and ushered us inside the house, flicking on the light switch and closing the door. 

The insides had been slightly modernized, but for the most part the house seemed to be in it's original state. All the floors were dark wood, and with the curtains closed, the house did seem a little creepy.

"Follow me," Helena said, walking down one hallway, Cyric and I followed her wordlessly, although we did share a mutual look of uncertainty before he gestured me forwards, reminding me this was my idea, whether or not that was his intent.

After a few twists and turns, we came to a very modern-looking, smooth wood door with a shiny metal handle. Helena opened it and it was like walking into a completely different building. It was a modern conference room with a large, polished, oval table, surrounded by chairs, seven on each side, and two at either end of the table. In one corner was a desk with a laptop charging on it, and a neat stack of files. Behind the head of the table was a screen, and even the windows here were modern, complete with pull-down blinds. The only indication that it was still part of the old manor home, was the unchanged dark-wood floor boards.

"Sit down, c'mon kids, we've got a lot to get through." Helena said, tapping her foot on the floor. Cyric pressed his hand to the small of my back and used it to propel me forward with him. Helena closed the door behind us again, although she didn't lock us in. She moved to the head of the table, the one directly in front of the screen, and elegantly sat down. Slowly, I lowered myself into the chair directly to her left, and Cyric sat next to me. Helena laced her fingers together on the table. 

"I know that you two both have questions, and of course Rosalyn you're curious about your mother, so I think we should start with that, and then I'll explain what Rosalyn needs to know, and why." She said. I glanced at Cyric who shrugged. 

"How'd you know my mom?" I asked, deciding to start simple. All my life I'd been mildly curious about my birth mother, but up until recently, I hadn't felt I really needed to know about her. And now all I could think was that she had somehow been instrumental in this, and because of that, I was what I am. 

"I met her at University, we had rooms across the hall from one another and we wound up close friends." Helena replied calmly, devoid of emotion. The story made complete sense and I didn't doubt the truth, but I still frowned. 

"Why were you there the day of the car crash?" I asked, because it had been eating at me. It seemed too coincidental that the day of an accident, the day I met Cyric, Helena was also there. I glanced at Cyric then. He was frowning at Helena. 

"In complete honesty, I was looking for you, Rosalyn. Your mother knew about all this, and when we discovered what you were, she asked me to explain the Hidden and whatnot to you when you were old enough. I never meant to wait this long but after she died I barely spoke to your father, and I became intent with my other work, and after my husband died I became obsessed with the idea of bringing Hidden Operations to a grinding halt." She told us, she didn't seemed ashamed of what she'd done.