I DON'T UNDERSTAND. Why can't we meet him first?" I grumbled as I tightened a silencer around the end of the gun. Malcolm sent me a glare over his shoulder as I handed it to him. "You heard Dad's orders, Leila. Come off it." He retorted in slight annoyance.
A frown settled over my lips. A day after being sent to the States, Father had a clear set of plans written out for us in a crumpled piece of paper that Malcolm had been given to by our chauffeur. We were to arrive at the hotel, rest, and await orders from the phone by this mysterious Harold Davison. He had heard of our successes back home and personally requested us for a job.
I called it "being purchased". I knew Father was did this in his own way to look out for us, but being shipped over international seas for a new permanent job? I couldn't comprehend why our own father would betray us like that. Perhaps it was for the dislike that was deeply rooted somewhere in his heart. Or the disappearance of Mum. I knew she was very ill, but no other information about her was given to me.
"Leah." Malcolm chided as he waved a hand over my face. I made a lazy attempt to swipe it away from me. "What is it?" I whispered, glancing at my older brother. His hair was growing out, curling at the bottom of his ears. It made him look less than Father, more bearable to stare at. His intelligent blue eyes stared at mine, holding many things that I couldn't understand. Malcolm nodded at me, a signal for me to continue.
Pursing my lips, I slid off a black leather glove. I gently pressed my fingertips to his temple, direct access to his mind. It was a small habit we had formed after our first job. Malcolm was petrified to go through with it so he asked me a favor, to search deep within himself if he had the actual courage to carry on with what we had to do. If he didn't, he had asked me to give him a little nudge to help settle things. Ever since, Malcolm never failed to have his mind checked by me.
My brother's mind was as recognizable as mine, I had gone through it countless of times. Even the structure was similar to mine, easier to navigate. Malcolm rolled his shoulders, inhaling deep breaths as his mind relaxed. I approached his thoughts and emotions carefully, mustering all of my concentration on not messing up like I had done to Leo. Her screams bounced off my memories, echoing throughout Malcolm's. He shuddered and I instantly pulled away in fear.
"What was that?" Malcolm said with a frown, blinking rapidly as his eyes cleared. I inhaled sharply as I dismissed those memories. "I... sorry. I didn't mean to." I said in a low voice. My brother nodded, looking at me with suspicion. "Are you sure you're up for this? I can report to this Davison bloke and tell him the job is done with." He offered. I glanced up at him, hating the way pity and kindness lingered in his face. I straightened, pulling my face tightly together.
"I can handle it, go on." I answered, jerking my chin toward the apartment door we stood in front of. Malcolm pursed his lips. As I took a step closer to the door, he placed a gloved hand over my shoulder. "Anything going up in that head of yours, you can talk to me about it, alright?" He told me in a murmur. I stilled, unaccustomed to him verbally offering any type of support. After a great deal of processing his words, I nodded, offering him a tiny smile.
With that, Malcolm clicked the safe off of the gun he carried. I slipped the bobby pin into the lock of the door, expertly jiggling it around as I turned the knob. The door finally unlocked, and we entered inside.
The small apartment was dark, not a soul in the area. Malcolm's breathing grew slightly ragged as he concentrated. I felt a strange sensation wash over me, the same one I had felt the day I escaped the Vault. Knowing I was covered by Malcolm's ability, I moved forward. The short hall led to a dainty kitchen. A fridge stood near me, pictures of three children and hideous art posted all over the surface. I immediately turned away, not giving myself a chance to feel guilty.
Malcolm closed the door behind him quietly and passed me, clearing out the living room. He walked back to me, nodding as he lowered the gun. The two bedroom doors were closed, everyone was asleep. Malcolm tucked the gun into the waistband of his pants and began to over turn pillows in the old sofa. I stepped into the kitchen, patting down cupboards. The Davison chap had given us orders to retrieve certain papers a married couple stole from him.
I doubted those important documents were Davison's to begin with, but I didn't care. We were sent to do a job to show our skills and that was all there was to it. I opened two cupboards, tracing my fingers lightly on the inside, feeling for anything out of place. I closed them silently. As I moved onto the stack of magazines near the microwave, I paused. I eyed the figurines that stood on top of the microwave in curiosity. There were four otters, all of them slightly lumpy. I squinted at the last figurine, a bright yellow snake. It was slightly bigger than the other figurines, turned away from the rest of the otters.
My eyes trailed back to the fridge. A lot of the ugly artwork contained lumpy brown things that resembled the figures of otters. I inched closer to the fridge, grabbing one of the pictures from under the magnet. Four otters were scribbled on the paper, each one labeled at the bottom. Dad, Mom, Jace, and Jackson the last one read. My eyes flickered back to the otter figurines sitting silently on top of the microwave. If there were only four people in the family, who was the snake?
"Are you done looking through the kitchen?" Malcolm whispered as he crept into the kitchen. I continued to stare at the artwork in my hand. Malcolm peered over my shoulder, sighing as he realized what it was. "Come off it, Leah. We have a job to do." He reminded me as he began to look through the magazine stack. I placed the paper back on the fridge.
The uneasy feeling didn't leave my stomach. "No, something isn't right about this." I muttered to my brother. He chuckled quietly as he shuffled through the booklets. "That artwork isn't right looking." He replied with another chuckle.
"No..." I trailed off as my eyes caught a hint of yellow on the fridge. I quickly marched over, lifting a small sticky note out of the way to see the whole drawing better. As the sticker came off, my stomach tightened. A squiggly yellow snake was drawn in between a stick figure of a man and woman. The woman was holding a red blob that I assumed was an apple. At the bottom there was a small sentence written in uneven handwriting.
The words were hard to read, to understand. Realizing the lack of school in my life didn't help me decipher the sentence, I frowned. "Malcolm," I whispered over my shoulder. My brother moved quietly to my side.
"What does that say?" I asked, gesturing to the paper. Malcolm gave me a pointed look, silently telling me it was a waste of time. Nonetheless, he loomed closer and began to read it aloud. "'The snake is the devil in disguise,'" Malcolm paused to frown at me. I tapped his arm in anticipation. "Go on will you?" I said through my teeth. My brother turned back to the drawing. "'Just like the evil man that visits Mom and Dad...' Leah why do you need this?" Malcolm snapped as he straightened.
My eyes moved back to the lumpy snake figurine. "Why would they want a snake on top of their microwave that represents the evil man?" I thought out loud. Malcolm shrugged. "Maybe the kid was talking about a random wanker he saw." He offered, uninterested. I shook my head as I took a step closer to the picture. "It said, 'the evil man that visits Mum and Dad', Malcolm. This kid knows this bloke personally." I said eagerly. Malcolm and I slowly turned to look at the snake figurine in unison.
I moved first. I snatched the small object from the microwave. It felt heavier than it seemed. The longer I held it, the more it seemed to slightly tremble. It was an ugly figurine, not made with much delicacy as one would expect. Malcolm stared intently at it, poking at it. The figurine shook a little more. My eyes widened, expecting something to shoot out from it. "Maybe it has a key—"
"Who the hell are you?" The small confused voice sliced through the silence.
Dread filled my insides as I realized I couldn't feel Malcolm's ability covering me. I turned around slowly, Malcolm mirroring my movements. A short boy stood a few yards away from us, a loose pair of aviator goggles hanging over his messy head. He seemed a few years younger than me, freckles sprinkling over his tanned skin. Not much of a threat. A quick problem to fix.
I licked my dry lips, raising my hands slowly. "Malcolm..." I murmured tersely. The little boy took a tentative step back as he eyes trailed down to Malcolm's waistband, where his gun was resting. My heartbeat pounded faster. We needed to fix this little hiccup now. The kid seemed as if he was two seconds from screaming and putting us in a deeper mess.
"Hey now, there's nothing to worry about." I said as I took a small step closer. My voice immediately turned soft and sugary. It was a tactic I had studied back home. The brain would stimulate less of that flight or fight adrenaline at the sound of calming sounds. It bought us a few more seconds. The boy's eyes widened in fear, flickering around in panic. "You got a weird accent..." He whispered with a frown. I dared to take another step closer.
The boy screamed.
I lunged toward him, shoving him back. He stumbled, his legs tangling with mine. We tumbled to the floor. The figurine hit the floor soundlessly. Instead of breaking into a million pieces, it expanded and grew into a thin packet of papers in a blur.
My eyes widened at the sight in bafflement a few inches before me. How curious, an object changing figurine. Perhaps it was some of parlor trick? Or connected to the boy's powers, if he had any. The boy crawled away from me and screamed more, jarring my thoughts. Malcolm dove to grab him but the kid let out another loose scream.
The door behind me flew open, a lanky boy stepping out. He was the exact replica of the younger boy, only his hair was less messier. He seemed around my age, only taller. His eyes widened as he took in the scene. "Let go of Jackson!" He yelled as he marched forward. I pushed myself to my feet, standing in his way. I removed a glove. "Go back to your room. You don't want to make things worse." I ordered, raising a hand.
The older boy's — Jace's — face tightened in determination. "Leave my brother alone." He growled, his fingers curling to fists at his sides. I frowned, why did American boys not listen? The younger boy screamed again, shortly met with a few thuds. Malcolm grunted in effort behind me, and I didn't need to turn around to know what he was doing.
"Mom! Dad!" Jace screamed, panic stretching over his face. I lunged forward toward the boy. Jace was too slow, dodging just as my hands enclosed around his wrists. His flailing mind was wide open, bumping with mine as I latched control. I flinched, his loud thoughts bouncing off everywhere. Jace's body slackened, slumping to the ground and bringing me down with it. Another door flew open, snatching my attention.
A short Asian woman stumbled throughout the doorway, her wide eyes darting around the living in fear. A rather tall man was right behind her, his long hair rustled up. "Jace? Was that you, honey?" The mother called out. My eyes went over to Malcolm. My brother was crouched over the younger boy, eyes squinting in hard concentration.
The parents couldn't see us.
"Leah... quick." Malcolm muttered through clenched teeth. I looked back at Jace on the floor. His eyes were glassy, a sign he was still under my dominion. Sweat trickled down my back as I tried to concentrate. The boy's consciousness tried to fight back, little nudges that made me wince. I recalled the many lessons I had with Eddie, teaching how to infiltrate someone's mind.
"Sleep," I whispered. Jace's eyes immediately closed, his body shutting off and kicking me out from his mind. I pushed away from him and grabbed the stack of papers. "Malcolm, we need to get going." I said as I pushed myself to unsteadily to my feet. Malcolm was grunting in effort as he slowly came up to his feet.
I glanced at the smaller boy on the ground who was now unconscious. "What do we do about this one?" I asked Malcolm. My brother had begun sweating from effort. "I... Wipe his memories." He suggested. I moved toward the door, casting a glance over at the two motionless boys. "That'll take too long. We need something fast." I tol him. Malcolm eyed the phone mounted on the wall near the kitchen.
"Call the coppers. They can deal with this and they'll never breathe a word." He said through his teeth, holding the illusion in place. I gripped the papers harder in my hands. My pulse quickened. "The coppers? Malcolm these boys are like us, they c-can get taken away or—''
Malcolm turned to look at me sternly, his narrowed look silencing me almost immediately. "Leah it's either us or them. In these jobs it will always have to be us." He said. I swallowed hard, my eyes trailing down to the two kids. It never had occurred to me before how many lives we had ruined before coming to America on the endless jobs our father has assigned us to. But for some odd reason, placing the two boys in danger seemed more personal.
Flashbacks of years spent in the Vault alone rang throughout my head. My nostrils flared as my breathing turned heavy. Being sent away like that wasn't something I would wish on anyone. This family didn't deserve anything to happen to them...
I brought my eyes back to Malcolm. He had the phone in his hand, staring at me expectantly. But my brother was right. If I had to choose between two boys or him, I would always without a doubt choose him. My blood. My kin. The only thing left in the world that I loved. I pursed my lips, my spine straightening.
"Do it."
THE HAND TRACING slow circles on my bare back causes goosebumps to race up my body, waking me. My eyes shoot open in alarm.
My bare back.
I stir, feeling the soft bed sheets rub against my bare body. My whole body is bare. What happened? A small voice hisses in my mind, scolding me. In a blur I try to push myself. Nausea slams over my stomach as a headache blooms across my head. I let out a loud groan, letting myself sink back onto the pillows.
My vision blurs in and out focus as I glance wearily at my surroundings. I lick my dry lips, my tongue feeling heavy. This is what alcohol does to your body? No thank you, I think bitterly to myself. I let my droopy eyelids close, recalling on my ability to remember the events of last night. The headache across my forehead triples, earning a hiss of pain to escape through my lips.
"I didn't know you had a tattoo."
My eyes fly wide open. I stay completely still for a few mortifying seconds, hoping if I ignored the voice they would spontaneously vanish into thin air. Despite the groggy feeling, my heart pumps erratically in fear of who is behind me. The bed rustles as the body shifts.
I slowly look over my shoulder, squinting against the harsh lighting of the sun glaring through the window drapes. A face looms closely to mine. To my horror, Pan lays beside me. He offers me a sleepy smile as he sits up on his elbows. My fingers touch the back of my exposed neck.
The branding.
"I..." My throat closes up as my brain runs empty. I blink wearily as I try to gather my thoughts. The stabbing pain triples across my forehead, I sigh quietly as I briefly close my eyes. Pan moves to sit up, the sheets falling down and revealing his tattooed chest. Words in Russian fill his pale skin. If it were other circumstances, I would ask what they mean.
"Last night—"
"Was a mistake." I finish for Pan, gently massaging my head. He regards me with a perplexed gaze, frowning over his shoulder at me. I shouldn't be here. The whole night with Pan shouldn't have happened. I slowly push the blankets down, the energy seeping away from me. As I begin to rise up to my elbows, the whole room spins. I blink rapidly, faces behind my eyelids flashing.
Memories that are not my own replay throughout my mind: children laughing as they chase a ball, an old woman on her death bed speaking to me, a man slipping a ring around my finger. My whole body shudders as a whirl of emotions fly through me. Irreplaceable joy, dark agony, loss from a loved one, excitement from an acceptance letter. "Get out..." I mutter, squeezing my eyes shut.
I give a poor attempt to store those memories back to where they belong. I manage to jumble them up into a further mess. My fingertips press against my own temple in vain as I try to control the chaos rampaging through my head. Names, tastes, familiar tunes, everything slams over and over in my mind as I try to sort through them. The booze from the night before makes them all runny, unable to be concrete enough for me to store properly.
A solid hand presses against my bare shoulder, burning me. I gasp as I eyes fly open. A string of loud thoughts that are not my own burst through my head. Pan stares at me with concern. "Is everything alright? You started muttering—''
I instantly move away from him as if scalded. "Don't touch me. Don't come near me." I whisper. I push myself over the bed, waves of dizziness taking ahold of me. "Ouch, well that hurt." He chuckles. I grunt in pain as another wave of unfiltered memories surge through me. Pan moves to help me to my feet but hesitates. Confusion rises within me, crashing down and morphing into a depression that isn't mine.
"Ungh." My eyebrows etch together as I stumble. I grip the coffee table for stability. Pan quickly slips on his pants and hops out of the bed, making his way over to me. Malcolm's face swims in my line of vision, his clear blue eyes staring back at me in pity. "Get. Out. Of my head!" I scream, swatting at the air before me. Malcolm's face disintegrates. Pan glances around at the empty air in confusion.
"Mania... maybe we should—''
"No," I say through my teeth. "I-I need to take some fresh air. M-Maybe some peace and quiet.'' Pan frowns, grabbing one of the blankets from the bed and gently placing it over my shoulder. My eyes widen in panic as I see his wrist grazing my shoulder as he does so. "Pan... no—''
The world around us completely vanishes. Pan falls on the floor next to me, groaning. Book shelves melt into view, standing all around us. Light pours in, casting shadows and life into the memory. Leo is on the ground, blood pooling around her. The warm liquid touches my feet. I shake my head as her lifeless eyes stare up at mine. People scream all around us, trying to leave the store. My eyes stay locked on Leo's.
I haven't had a nightmare about her in so long... I guess what they say is true, only those who are forgotten are truly dead.
Leo continues to stare at me with anger, her pale lips slowly stretching into a frown. "You're never going to get rid of me, blanquita. Backstabbing perra." She snarls, spitting up at me. I flinch backwards, horror rising within me. Hurt laces through me at the insult. Even though I know I didn't deserve any type of compassion from my former friend, but it still stings.
Leo begins to sit up, coughing up blood and staining my legs. Her hair is matted down and dirty, sticking up around her horns. I pity her. So small and so broken, because of me. She could have had so much potential yet it was all taken in a matter of minutes.
"Leo... I never meant to... please." I plead, my voice breaking. I suddenly feel like I'm twelve years old all over again. Having to choose between my father or my best friend. I take a small step backwards as she pushes herself shakily to her feet. The ground groans underneath her strength. Leo is shorter than me, her thirteen year old body seeming so tiny now. Her hands are drenched in her own blood, Leo shakes her head, spitting out more blood and saliva as she attempts to chuckle.
The coppers yell out, but it turns to background noise that doesn't interest me. Nothing else matters but her. "You did this to yourself." Leo growls, limping towards me. My pulse spikes yet my body doesn't seem to want to move away from her. Chills run down my back. Someone yells at me, tugging my arm but I blur them out. I need to redeem myself to Leo, after all these years...
Leo gives out a cry as she lunges. Her bloodied hands enclose around my neck. Her body collapses over mine, knocking me down with a scream. I hit the ground, gasping and blinking the tears away from eyes as reality slams back down on me. I scurry back on the floor until my back hits the bed, my fingers digging into the blanket around my body.
My chest heaves up and down as I look around with wide eyes. "This is real... this is real..." I murmur to myself, wiping the wetness out of my eyes. I wiggle my toes against the wooden floor, making sure it's solid. Pan rolls over from the ground, breathing shakily as well. "What... was that?" He breathes, lifting himself off the floor.
"That... is what happens when you touch me." I hiss angrily at Pan as he steadies himself.
Before he has time to retort, the door swings open. I jump from the sudden sound, shielding my eyes as newly found light floods through. From the look on Pan's face, it isn't someone pleasant. Nyx steps through the doorway with a glare pinning each of us down. My face grows hot in embarrassment. Despite the memories and emotions still reeling within myself, I find a small grip to ground myself.
"You lying two timing son of a—''
"Woah there, there's nothing going on here that you should be that upset about." Pan intervenes, taking a step closer to me. I roll my eyes as I try to stand. Pan shifts to help me up but thinks better of it and stays where he is. Nyx curls her lip in anger. "I'm not talking about what you two idiots did last night," she snarls, her dark eyes shifting over to me. "I'm talking to her."
My eyebrows shoot up in confusion. "Pardon me? I have done nothing—''
"Jace." Nyx whispers, her face hardening.
A small grunt leaves my mouth as newly found memories spring up at the sound of the name. The apartment, the parents, the two small boys laying on the ground unconscious. I press my fingers to my temple, squeezing my eyes shut in another failed attempt to control it. Nyx gives out a bitter laugh. "See, I knew it. You can't even deny what you've done. Much less even explain yourself." She growls in accusation.
Pan stares between the both of us. "What is going on? What does this Jace have anything to do with Nia?" He asks. Nyx folds her arms. "I think your girlfriend here should enlighten you with that story. Wait till Viktor finds out about this." She says, lifting her chin up. I blink rapidly, trying to get rid of the memory still replaying over in my mind. I try to concentrate on the chilling words coming Nyx's mouth.
"Nyx, I can explain." The words barely come out of my mouth. My throat closes up dryly. Nyx hammers on. "Phan told me everything, Mania. You shouldn't be here with us, must less near him. And now you slept with one of the members of our team? You'll definitely get kicked off before you can even dress yourself." She jeers. Pan holds up his hand. "Slow down, Nyx. There's no need to jump to that. Just sit down and tell us what you mean." He says, his brows etching together in effort.
I plop back down on the bed, the headache tripling. I close my eyes. This can't be happening. Phan told her everything? How? How he possibly know everything about the past? I had been so tedious with everything that involved Pan and his history with me. Maybe Nyx was bluffing? No, she wouldn't have known the name Jace if she was.
"You know, at first I really didn't trust you. That accent, then your unique set abilities, even your knowledge on so many things... I assumed Viktor had trained you well. I learned to trust you, we all did. But I could never get rid of that tick inside of me that was urging me to not let my guard down around you." Nyx tells us as she begins to pace in front of me.
I stare up at her in silence, my lips tightening in anger. But I remain still. There is nothing to be done. Was she lying?
"I started doing research. I even asked Giovanni to hack the list of registered mutants in this country, and guess what we found? Not a single one had telepathic abilities like yours. The only person I could think of who had similar powers to yours were those British siblings who had served Davison years ago. What were their names again?" Nyx asks, tapping her chin mockingly.
Pan folds his arms in thought. "The Rodgers siblings." He says quietly. "Ah!" Exclaims Nyx in false surprise. "Right, the Rodgers siblings who had helped Davison with his movement against the government. The silly thing was, their information had been wiped out completely. Not a trace of legal evidence of their existence in any database. Also that sketchy Russian doctor kept talking to you in private." She continues.
Anger boils within me, knowing how I couldn't even begin to defend myself. If Nyx knew this information, and now Pan too, it was time to move on. Find a new place to go and live. I would have to wipe their memories clean off. But with the current state of my mind...
"And then Phan came up to me last night. He had gotten a rush of strange memories come back to his head as someone touched him on the dance floor. He was drunk, but sober enough to tell me in detail of what he had seen." She says, smiling down at me. "Two British siblings attack his little brother years ago in search for documents his parents were withholding for safekeeping. Who knows what those documents were needed for but, the girl, had the same telepathic abilities as the Rodgers girl, the same telepathic ability as you."
Pan's gaze snaps over to me in shock. I keep my eyes trained on Nyx. Her movements were heavy and clumsy, still affected by the alcohol in her system. It would be a stretch just to try and reach her, much less try and reach her mind. I could severe it, or even worse, transfer my memories to her like I did with Pan. I wouldn't be able to fight my way through, with no clothes that wasn't an option.
"It gets better." She throws a vicious grin at Pan. "Not only does our dear and beloved Mania have physical evidence of being related to the Rodgers siblings. But, I was also told by a little bird that she manipulated her way into being on the team." My nails dig into the blanket around me. She was getting dangerously close to being knocked unconscious. Pan brings his eyes back to me. "Nia... tell me that isn't true." He says, eyebrows drawn together in disbelief. I clench my jaw tightly, my eyes focused on Nyx.
She lifts a brow, clearly enjoying the moment. "Cat got your tongue, Mania? Or are you still planning on ways to erase both of our memories like you did to Phan?" Nyx leers. Pan whirls around to completely face me, his arms dropping at his sides. "Mania... what is she talking about?" He growls. Nyx takes a step back with a satisfied smirk on her lips.
I look up at Pan, my eyes narrowing. "I had to do it." I say through my teeth. Pan lets out an angered sigh as he places his hands on top of his head. "I didn't know Phantasos was going to be on our bloody team, and when I saw him I couldn't bear to let him know who I was. Or what I had done to him." I explain. "See? Even she admits it." Nyx tells Pan with a sniff.
I ground my jaw. "Shut it, Nyx." I growl. Nyx stares at me and then chuckles. "You have no type of authority to tell me anything, Mania. You of all people shouldn't be speaking to me that way. After what you've done, not only to us but to Phan? To this country? There is a thin string that's keeping me from picking up a phone and reporting you to the cops, I know damn well they've been looking for you." She says in a dangerous whisper.
I rise to my feet. Ignoring all the pain raging in my head, and the weaker waves of memories. Nyx slightly flinches, taking a small step back. Pan also does, regarding me with caution. It had been years since someone had reacted that way towards me, and dare I say, I had missed it.
"Then what are you waiting for? Call the coppers." I say. My face pulls together, straightening out any trace of emotion just like I was taught to. This team was the last group of people I had expected to use my training on. I thought I had reached a safe place with them. Apparently not.
Nyx purses her lips, dropping her entertaining little act. Her face becomes somber as she holds my stare. "Because, Leah, even though you're the two timing back-stabbing bitch like I thought you were, somewhere inside you are still that sister I considered you to be. Now leave, I'm doing you a favor and I won't tell Viktor until after you've left." She says, her voice reducing to a whisper. My true name rolls of Nyx's tongue effortlessly. It almost sounds foreign, an old skin I shedded. Yet it somehow feels right to be said out loud.
I want to run; I want to scream; I want to hug her like I should have in the past.
"Nyx... I never did any of this to hurt—''
"Leave, before I change my mind." Nyx is more forceful this time, stepping away from the doorway. I take a tentative step forward, pausing as I remember of the other presence in the room. Looking over my shoulder, I lock eyes with Pan. There are many things I would have wanted to tell him. I'm not sure if it's the alcohol still in my system or the fact that I know I have truly lost this time.
Pan's eyes are narrowed, staring at me with a whirl of emotions taking over his face. I can almost see a bruise taking form over his heart. He stays still, letting me look over him. There is exhaustion, hurt, and even some type of hope. As if he wants to believe this is all a lie. But I stand firm, shoulders squaring. A sour taste fills my mouth. I didn't want it to end this way. And certainly not now.
But time is up. And I need to move, fast.
"For what it's worth," I call out as I linger at the door. "I considered you all my family as well... Make sure Phantasos knows that." I walk down the hallway alone, trying to figure out which door leads to triplets rooms. Family portraits, expensive looking vases, and even passed out teenagers on the floor blur at the edge of my vision. I finally come across an unlocked door. Marching through, I drop the blanket and begin rummaging around the closet.
An array of colorful clothing fly throughout the room. "Is there seriously not one single piece of regular clothing here?" I mutter in frustration to myself. From short skirts to neon colored shirts, I settle with a random pair of them and a faux fur coat. My eyes wander around the room for shoes. I slip on a pair of chunky sneakers that are a bit too small but will have to do.
As I quickly jog over to the door, I come to abrupt stop. The three sisters slink into the room. Athena and Aurora flank Arabella. The triplets wear different clothing from the night before. Athena seems more prepared than the three, her slender form fitting into neon yellow joggers and a matching shirt. Her hands are bare, curled at each side. Aurora on the other hand wears a light pink robe with slippers on. Her hair is still mounted beautifully on top of her head. Arabella glares me down, her eyepatch a different color today. I'm not sure who hates me more at the moment.
They all send me an identical grin. Athena speaks up first. "What a bold thing—''
"— You're doing," Aurora continues for her. "To first step into—''
"— Our house and now steal." Arabella finishes for them. My eyes almost roll to the back of my head, already on a time limit and now this to top it all off. "What do you want?" I snap, cutting to the chase. The sisters place their hands on their hips in unison. Not only are their minds connected but even their movements, how wonderful. With the splitting headache, and quiet thoughts weaving through my head, there was no way I could get through them.
"You need to pay," Athena snarls. "For everything you did to us," Arabella finishes, lifting her chin. I swallow hard, blinking back the rage of random emotions inside of me. My hand goes up to my stomach as nausea continues to engulf me. "So, what do you propose we do with her, sister?" Aurora grins in question. I hold up a finger, drawing all of their attention. I open my mouth to answer, but instead of words coming out, a spew of last nights food follows.
I double over falling to my knees, retching violently over the sisters' shoes. My stomach clenches, knowing their hate for me just doubled.