A lie often enough becomes the truth.
- Vladimir Lenin
Jared returned to the live world faster than expected. The ring had only dropped him a block away from his house and a growing sense of disquiet pin-balled around his stomach as he drew closer.
He lived on a typically hilly street in Sydney's north shore, blending in with the other overpriced and overbearing buildings in the area. When he was younger he'd presumed every household held as many secrets as his did. What else required so much empty space, so many alarmed doors and security cameras?
As he'd grown up he realised that wasn't true. His neighbours had alarms so no one stole their flat screen TV's. His home had alarms to ensure no one killed them in their sleep.
He jogged up the front steps and made his way to his father's study, knocking quietly. A faint grunt answered so he pushed it open and walked inside, folding himself into a chair and meeting his father's gaze.
The room reminded Jared of a library. Books lined the walls and silence distorted the sound waves in a way that inspired whispers. Brenton sat behind his desk, eyeing Jared over the papers in front of him.
"Has Leah remembered something?" Brenton asked, by way of greeting.
Jared shifted in his seat, glancing around uncomfortably. Brenton hadn't been happy the last time Jared had come home and said he was bringing Leah back to the live world.
"No, I don't think she's ever going to get her memories back down there, not completely. We're still on the way to the whirlpools, but there've been some complications. We'll be another week or so. I'll let you know before she comes through."
"Everything involving Leah seems to have complications," Brenton muttered.
Jared didn't reply and Brenton sighed.
"Okay. Why are you here then? Surely it's not just to tell me that."
Jared knew the risk he was taking. Time worked differently in the two worlds; every hour here equaled a day or so in the world of the dead. But the accusations Leah had flung at him were pounding inside his head, as consistent as his pulse, and for the first time he wanted to ask his father questions. He wanted confirmations. He wanted reassurances.
"I ran into some of your men," Jared began slowly. "They attacked me. They wanted to hurt me for killing them."
Brenton's gaze sharpened.
"They —" Jared cut off and swallowed, attempting to remove the uncertainty from his voice. "They were happy to die, weren't they?"
Brenton groaned, rubbing his temples. "I don't know why you let these things confuse you, Jared. We're working for the greater good. They knew that, we didn't force them into anything."
"But they attacked me," Jared said bluntly. "Leah and I had to fight them off."
Brenton's smile was amused. "Leah Azemar fighting to protect you? I suppose your plan is working then."
He chuckled and looked down at his paper again, pleased, and Jared's heart gave an unexpected thud.
"I don't know why we need her anyway," he said. "I doubt she knows where the Mors Mortis Device is. Patrick isn't stupid enough to make it common knowledge."
The look Brenton levelled on him was unnerving, almost challenging. "You're my child and you're more involved in this than anyone else."
"I know," Jared said, looking away. "She's different."
He could feel Brenton studying his face, gaze hard and unforgiving.
"Leah Azemar is not as innocent as she's pretending to be. Your job is to manipulate her into trusting you, not the other way around. Don't forget that."
Jared flushed.
"She doesn't remember anything. She's not manipulating me," he said.
Brenton leant forward, eyes glittering. "What do you think will happen when she does remember then, Jared? Do you expect her to forgive you?"
Jared stared at his father, face blank.
"You know what her family's done to ours," Brenton continued. "Your mother would still be alive if it weren't for them. And we've returned the favour. Whatever you feel for that girl, crush it."
Jared glared.
"I don't feel anything for her."
Brenton dropped his arm and sat back, expression closing. "Good."
Once again, Jared didn't move, staring at his father. There was something rising inside him, something that had been growing for years now, though he'd never admitted it.
"How can you be so sure?" he asked softly.
"What?" Brenton asked irritably.
"How do you know that what we're doing is right?" Jared asked. "You didn't see those men. They weren't grateful. How do you know we aren't meddling in something bigger than us? Maybe people aren't meant to have eternity."
Brenton's face froze. "Where has this come from?"
Jared shrugged, unsure how to explain that it wasn't the result of any one situation, but something that'd always laid around him like tinder, something that had just needed one spark to start flaming.
Brenton turned away. "I can't have supporters who doubt me. If you really feel this way you can leave, but you'll never be welcome in this house again."
Jared's mouth fell open. "But I'm your son."
"Yes, and you're also one of the most important people here," Brenton said, his voice harsh. "Your doubts are more dangerous than anyone else's. Consider it mercy that I'm not considering killing you."
"That – that's not what I meant."
"What did you mean then?" Brenton snapped.
Jared looked at his father in shock. "I just —"
"Are you fighting for me or not?"
Jared flinched. No one else ever made him feel as inferior as Brenton did, or inspired such a determination to please. His entire life had revolved around attempts to impress this man.
"Of course," Jared said softly.
Brenton leaned back and nodded. "Good. Now, go back to Leah. You've been here too long."
Jared stood stiffly and made his way to the door.
"Oh, and Jared," Brenton said, and Jared turned back. "If you ever have these doubts again, don't bother coming back to this world."
...
"Who are you?" Leah repeated, her grip tightening on the mysterious woman's throat.
Finding a black clad figure in her bedroom had not been the best start to the night, and Leah couldn't help feeling slightly murderous after having her fantasy of a calm evening ripped away.
The woman swallowed, a movement Leah felt against the palm of her hand.
"My name is Cassandra Rai," she said, voice strained. "I died two years ago."
Leah frowned, put off by the unusual introduction. "You have some unfinished business in the live world I presume?"
Cassandra's eyes flashed with an emotion Leah couldn't identify. "You could say that, yes."
Leah's gaze hardened. "I'm not going to help you, if that's what your expecting."
"On the contrary," Cassandra said. "I've come to help you."
As she spoke one of her fists opened and Leah looked down at the object she held.
It was a GPS, one of the devices Zarah's father used. Leah had no doubt this was the GPS that paired with the tracker in her pocket, the tracker Zarah wouldn't have given to anyone freely.
Leah's vision went white and she heard, almost from a distance, the laughter that matched the movements of her throat. Before Cassandra could move, Leah spun and threw her across the room, sending her smashing against the opposite wall. Leah walked towards her sprawled figure slowly, encompassed by an unhinged anger.
"You know, I don't actually mind people threatening me," she said. "I've gotten used to it. But if you've done anything to Zarah, you're going to wish you never came here."
Cassandra was gasping, pushing herself up off the floor on unsteady hands.
"I didn't hurt Zarah," she choked out. "She gave the device to me so I could find you."
"Why would she do that?" Leah snarled.
"Because," Cassandra said between gasps, "I knew you in the live world, I worked with your father."
Leah froze in surprise.
Cassandra pulled herself into a sitting position and continued, taking advantage of Leah's silence. "I worked under your father at the S.I.S and died at the hand of Brenton Caldwell, the leader of the rebels trying to activate the Mors Mortis Device."
Everything had gone deadly still as Leah's whole conscious zeroed in on two words Cassandra had spoken.
"Brenton Caldwell?" she asked.
"Yes," Cassandra said. "You've been living with him here. And now you're travelling with his son."