Sweet Deception

Chapter 2: Dull Mourning

Manhattan Headquarters

I sat on the floor of the training room in the basement of another hotel in N.Y.

The owner, Ms.Pieterse, was apparently an alumnus of our academy so as soon as we send a message via mail (yes, like a mail-mail, it’s not that we’re being careless, let’s just say we have a couple of “trusty postmen”), she gave us three single deluxe suites to use freely and (to Teagan’s delight) unlimited access to the bar and buffet.

It’s been almost 3 weeks since Veronica died.

We already reported her death to the main institute in Langley and Francesca, the headmistress of our former school. She suggested that we three should cool down for a bit and take a vacation. We looked at each other in the eye, thinking about the same thing. Spies like us don’t take vacations.

The last and only time we tried vacationing in the Bahamas when Ronnie was still alive and this is how it turned out: we did nothing but practice our sparring sessions on the bright white beach. Well except for Demi, who locked herself in our cabin and experimenting with who-knows-what. Oh well, how sad that we could’ve spent that time bonding with Veronica nonstop.

And ever since that talk, we’ve been busy with our own “schedules”.

Teagan’s been on her tab for hours, online shopping no doubt. Or playing that retarded flappy bird.

Demi did what she normally does; locked herself up making new gadgets.

Me? Knowing every hideout has a training room or floor, I spent the past few weeks practicing my strength and the accuracy of my left arm, knocking out the target several times whether in archery, target shooting or my personal fave, knife throwing.

I know we should comfort each other but I figured the best way to cope with my best friend’s death was not to dwell on the empty feeling in my chest whenever I want to call out her name when I still think she’s there then realizing that she’ll never, ever coming back, but be strong, put our brave face masks on and track down that blasted serum and bring it back to the lab.

That’s the best kind of honor we could ever give her.

The first week was the hardest. Whenever I took a shower, I suddenly taste the salty tears that’s blending with the water and Demi always ended up yelling through my door that I’m gonna cause an national water storage from all the waters I’ve wasted. I also often swore in those days over very little things. I spilled some milk. Me: Why you f*****g lil’ m***********!!

And frankly, a nun living in a convent swearing like a Somali sailor ever five minutes isn’t the most fitting let alone convincing cover. So, I really need to get a hold of my tongue and brains.

I move towards the archery section, determined to get the picture of Ronnie’s last pained breathe out of my head.

Nocking an arrow, I drew back the string beside my cheek, blowing a puff of air into the raven feathered end as I eye the target intensely.

Letting go of the string, I try to let go all of the anxiety, guilt, remorse all of the pent up—

Up until that second, I gotta say, the moment’s been pretty dramatic, cool-creepy-angsty music blasting from the invisible speakers of the room (“there’s nothing left to say naaaow, givin’ up, givin’ up hey,hey,”), an all-black clad girl looking determined and defeated at the same time then suddenly the music stops.

I turn towards the sliding glass (that cool lab-made kind of glass where you can’t see who’s inside but you’ll see who’s outside.) door just in time to see Teagan Kori stroll in a light blue mesh, a green sleeveless top that never fails to make her eyes pop finishing it off with her favourite ankle length boots.