Volume VI: And Introducing Harley Morrow As - Herself

37. An Ongoing Riddle

        We settled into the place. The bar was ran by an almost entirely new crew. I dropped by the show every now and again, but more often than not, I was never there. I would make appearances from time to time, but nothing major. The crowd took care of itself, elected new leaders, found new acts. They preached the divine gospel of the Timeless. After the stories surfaced and started to make their way through the streets, things weren’t the same. Talk ran rampant. I began to wonder if we’d made the right choice in letting it loose.

        We now had a Ransom and Merrick child. Living in the same apartment. They’d be raised together. What would we do to keep them apart? How would we explain their families to them? Pandora was there for her child. But the other was an orphan. The Ransom was alone. I thought about it for a while. As was the Hunter. In time, their paths would cross. As they were meant to. One family had killed the other - there was a valley of blood between the families. There would never be a united clan. And if there were, who would have to die for it?

        I brought this question to Serkis and Layne. Pandora was still trying to get settled in, get used to being home again. They looked at each other, around the room, back to me. They weren’t sure. The stories were running on the loose...they’d find out. The kids in school would know. It was decided that they’d be home-schooled. They’d deal with that when it came up. They didn’t want to get into paperwork and the legality of it. But they were playing this by ear. And I wasn’t surprised. How can you plan things like this?

        We got accustomed to the surroundings, a few weeks passed, the kids got used to us. I stayed there for the first few weeks, living off of the couch, eager to lend an extra hand. On days when he didn’t have to work, Sylum would stay as well. He usually slept on the couch and I would curl up elsewhere. On nights where the floor was especially cold, I’d creep up and curl up with him. If anyone else knew, they allowed it to pass. I didn’t care - I was warm.

        Things had been settled down for a while. Peace. Calm. But such things don’t usually last. Nothing that good lasts. Ever.

        I was curled up in Sylum’s arms on the couch, comfortable and warm when I heard the steps. I opened an eye apprehensively to find a pair staring back at me. I moved to scream but found a hand clamped over my mouth, the figure crouching down at my level. I could feel a cold blade to my throat.

        “Shush,” he whispered. “We don’t want you to wake the dead.”

        I couldn’t breathe. There was light sneaking in through the blinds from the moon and his face was turned. When he turned back to me, I recognized Mr. Riddle. Pandora’s father. Draven. He looked around the place.

        “Nice work they’ve done here. I’m sure they don’t mind if I take over, right?” He looked around the place carefully. “And you’re still mixed up with this mob? I’d have thought you would have known better.”

        I was dragged carefully out of Sylum’s arms and brought to my feet. I could feel his cold hands holding onto me as we moved away from Sylum. I was dragged into the kitchen and shoved against a wall, the knife’s blade still securely against my throat. I could feel a bit of blood dripping from the tip.

         “Listen to me. I’ll take my hand away. I have some things I need you to respond to. But if you try to scream, you’ll be dead before the sound gets out. Understand me?”

         I nodded carefully, mostly up, away from the knife. He pulled his hand away as promised and I let out a deep breath.

        “Now, who’s where?”