Fourth Generation

XXVIII: Mystery in Ink

Leila's hangover was a cold slap in the face. She grumbled and complained about her headache and the brightness of the darkroom. She had no idea what happened last night, so I left her to sleep with a puke-pale, water and some Respring- an instant pain relief serum that was created 10 years ago to replace inefficient, addictive over-the-counter pain killers.

"Okay," I wipe my hands on my apron. "That should be it."

"I'm sorry," Leila groans and peeks at me through her thick lashes. Her long wavy brown hair sticks to her forehead, from the sweat and water I used to cool her down. "I was an embarrassing mess last night and I feel horrible."

"Do you feel worse than your hangover?" I smile and brush the hair from her eyes.

"Way worse." Leila groans and curls into a ball from the pain.

"Why don't you take the Respring?" I ask and pat her hair down sitting on her bed.

"I'll just throw it up." Leila's beautiful features contort in discomfort and she shuts her eyes. "Anyways, take the morning off. I have Winnie and it's my apology to you for last night."

I turn to Winnie and she nods her head, "I think I can handle this."

"But you worked last night when you shouldn't have."

"I hardly call putting Leila to bed work, she passed out right away." Winnie wrings out a cloth and sets it on Leila's forehead. "I would do anything she asks, even if I don't feel up for it."

"Anything?" Leila chuckles, "Be careful what you say."

I stand up and Winnie takes my place beside her. "My lady, I will do anything you acquire of me. You've given so much, I'd be honoured to give back."

I back out of the room and smile at Winnie whose pudgy cheeks bundle up in a sweet smile.

I exit the room as my hand naturally brings itself to my pendant. The diamond twists between my fingertips and I pause. I should go see Mrs. Sanders.

I pass through the busy morning hallways, people cleaning up, talking to the police who are taking more statements from last night. Thankfully I already did mine before my shift started, I rehearsed my story over and over again last night. Leaving out Amell helping us and twisting the truth to fit my version of it. The police seemed to believe me, I played the victim very convincingly... partly because I am a victim. A victim to hate and discrimination to Third Gens, but more so the wretched disgust for Defects.

I pause at Milly's study door and knock on it lightly.

"Come in." A soft voice calls from behind. I twist the knob and find Milly standing at her desk shuffling papers into order.

Her study is decorated with thick velvet curtains pinned to the side, as two chairs placed in front of her desk are made of a burgundy felt and mahogany wood. Flowers sit on a side table as the sun begins to filter through the window and onto the articles sprawled across her desk. The fine dust particles catch the sunlight and begin to form a vagrant glow.

"Hello, Mrs. Sanders." I greet and curtsy. "I'm sorry to disturb you so early in the day."

"Don't be ridiculous," Milly smiles, "and please call me Milly! What brings you to me today?"

I tap the pendant and glance at her two ladies-in-waiting by the window behind her desk. Milly's face lights up with recognition and she clears her throat. "Reese, Glinda," she calls, "will you go fetch a cardigan and a cup of tea for me. It's awfully freezing in this manor."

Both ladies nod and exit the room swiftly, curtsying as they dip out the door.

"They're so elegant," I claim as the door lightly shuts behind them. "It's like they were built for this job."