Chapter 2

"Here's your grub." The Janus agent was back, along with two plates of food that were smaller than his beefy hands.

"What is that- that- mush?" Irina asked, her face a priceless mixture of horror and revulsion. She had, however, summed up the food she and Monet were to be served in one word: mush. It vaguely resembled mashed peas, and emitted a strong stench of rotten eggs.

"I told you. It's grub," the Janus replied, suppressing a smirk when Irina placed a hand over her mouth, fighting the urge of barf.

"Wait-" Monet stepped forward beside Irina, eyeing the plates warily. "Do you mean that that's actual grubs? As in, bugs? Dead and mashed, in this case?"

"Oh, only some of them are dead." The Janus drawled nonchalantly. Right on cue, a caterpillar crawled out of the pile of mush. "See?"

Irina's eyes widened. "You- You expect us to eat that?"

"What else are you going to eat?" the Janus shrugged, wearing a perfect poker face, while inside, he was cheering, Ah, disgusting Lucians. There's nothing better.

"Are you sure that you can't get us some- oh, I don't know- edible food?" Monet asked, his expression identical to Irina's now.

"News flash, Unidentified: bugs are edible. And they're the best you're gonna get. Now, do you want your food, or would you rather go hungry?"

"Food."

"Go hungry."

Monet and Irina glared at each other, having spoken contradictorily at the same time. "I'm not eating that!" Irina exclaimed, pointing a trembling finger at the mush, which had just had a fly land on top of it (or crawl out of it; she couldn't tell, to be honest).

"Would you rather starve to death?" Monet shot back. "I don't want to eat that either, but it's better than nothing!"

Irina took a few deep breaths, her brown eyes closed, calming herself. Finally, she opened her eyes toward the Janus. "I will take the food."

The Janus grinned evilly and shoved the plates through the cell bars. Monet clenched his jaw, seeming to steel his nerves, and gingerly took the plate and set it down in front of him. Irina was much more hesitant. Cringing the whole time, she grabbed the edge of the plate with just her index finger and her thumb, held it as far out in front of her as she could, placed in onto the ground, and hopped back a few steps. Laughing raucously at the Lucian's behavior, the Janus walked away from the cell and back to his post.

Monet sighed. "Irina, you'll have to learn to adapt to rather… unpleasant experiences and conditions."

"You call this unpleasant?" Irina asked. "This is not unpleasant! This is… this is… revolting! Unsanitary! Disgusting! Barbaric! Crude! Vile-"

"So are many things you'll have to do," Monet cut her off. "It's upsetting, Irina, but it's the truth. You'll get used to it after awhile."

Irina glared into thin air. "Isabel and Vikram did not tell me about this."

"You're on a first-name basis with the branch leaders, eh?" Monet raised an eyebrow, almost amusedly. "I take it you know them well?"

"Yes. We met in college at Oxford. But that is none of your business, as you Americans say," Irina snapped, her glare turning towards her companion. "Isabel told me that being a Cahill was rewarding. That I would enjoy it."

"You'll learn to, have no fear," Monet assured her. "Some aspects of Cahill life do take some getting used to, however. The constant running… always having to look over your shoulder, no matter where you go… I hate to break it to you, Irina, but being forced to eat bugs is the least of the troubles us Cahills face."

For a few moments, Irina was silent. I did not sign up for this, she thought.

"There's no going back now," Monet told her. Only then did Irina realize that she had accidentally thought aloud. "Once a Cahill, always a Cahill."

"I have only known that I am a Lucian for a few years! I only completed my training a few months ago!" Irina declared heatedly. "I am barely a Cahill!"

"The blood of Gideon and Olivia Cahill runs through your veins, Irina. You can't be 'barely' a Cahill; you either are, or you aren't. And you are a Cahill."

Irina sighed, thinking hard. "I cannot go back, then?"

"No. I'm sorry, Irina."

"Do not apologize!" Irina ordered. "You did nothing! I do not want your pity! I am Irina Spasky- I do not give up! I will become the best Lucian the world has ever known!"

The sight of her youthful eyes filled with so much hope and determination made Monet's heart swell. At the same time, it made his heart deflate, because he knew that there was no way that Irina would be able to live a long, happy life. Not with those kinds of ambitions.

He wasn't going to be the one to tell Irina that, though. Not when she was smiling for the first time since she had entered the cell.

"Will you help me?"

Monet jerked his head towards Irina in shock. "What?"

"I asked if you will help me."

"Yes, yes, I heard that, but- why?"

"You are an experienced Cahill," Irina began slowly, choosing her words carefully. She hated complimenting people. "You know what hardships agents must face- and how to overcome them. You know what I will need to be able to do to become a good Lucian."

"Well, I wouldn't say that-"

"You are not a good agent, then?" Irina interjected with a raised eyebrow. "Are you a failure to your branch?"

"What? No! Far from! I am my branch's best agent! I am one of our leader's right hand men!"

"Then you admit that you know everything that I would need to know about being a Cahill?"

"…Yes," Monet admitted rather reluctantly. He had a feeling that he knew where this was going now, and he did not want to-

"Teach me."

"No," Monet shook his head automatically. "No, no, no. A thousand times no."

"Why not?" Irina questioned. "What else will you do? Who knows how long we will be here- are we really just going to sit around and chat for all that time and let ourselves waste away until, when the option to escape comes along, we aren't strong enough to go along? I do not know about you, Monet, but I plan to spend my time here as best I can."

Monet was silent. She had a point, he grudgingly admitted in his mind. But if I help teach her, she could be a major threat to my branch one day; not to mention to me. I have no doubt that she could succeed at most anything she put her mind to. However, if I don't teach her, then I might as well add her name to my list of enemies… c'mon, Fiske, think! What should I do?

Teach her, his inner voice suggested. Teach her what you know. But make her promise not to ever use what you teach her against you after you escape the prison.

Marvelous idea, he complimented his inner voice, and then looked Irina straight in the eye. "I will teach you-"

"Excellent!"

"-But, you have to promise never to use what I teach you against me."

Irina scrutinized her companion's earnest face. He seemed to be entirely serious, and his eyes were telling her that he meant ever word he said. However, she was reluctant to agree to his terms. What if, years from now, we meet on different terms and must fight? She asked herself. What if we are forced to attack each other? He would be at a definite advantage.

Then you have two options, the little voice inside her head replied. If you and Monet ever have to fight later in life, you can use your skills that he did not teach you, and hope that you are able to overpower him. Or, you can make him promise not to use any of what he teaches you against you as well.

Interesting… I think I'll go with both.

"If you can have conditions," Irina started, staring back at Monet unnervingly, "then so can I."

"Alright," Monet said, crossing his arms expectantly. "I'll hear them."

Irina picked her words carefully. "If, in the future, we are forced to fight each other, you are not allowed to use what you teach me against me, just as I am not allowed to use what you teach me against you. We must use other techniques against each other; strategies that the other doesn't know."

"Fair enough," Monet nodded slowly. "It will be a fairer fight that way, anyways. Shall we shake on it?" He stuck out his hand, his eyes dancing almost hopefully.

Irina warily accepted his hand, and they shook firmly. Monet grinned triumphantly (so, of course, Irina had no choice but to scowl back at him).

"Fantastic. We can start today," he said, "by making you eat these bugs."

Irina gulped, eyeing the grubs with pure revulsion etched on her features. "How about we start tomorrow?"

Monet laughed- a deep, rumbling sound that, despite their dreary surroundings, was full of good spirits, as if he was sitting on a plush couch at a party and not on a stone floor in a prison. "As you wish, my lady," he chuckled.

"I am not your lady!"

He ignored her completely. "We both better rest up, I think. Starting now. Don't let the bed bugs bite, Irina."

"Now there are bed bugs, too? What is it with this place and bugs? Perhaps the Janus have some strange connection with insects; I must tell Isabel about it-"

"It's a saying, Irina. It means 'Good night'."

"…So there are no bed bugs?"

"Not in the slightest."

"…Oh. Well, that was very rude of you to lie to me; I am Russian, after all, I do not know all of your silly American sayings-"

"Good night, Irina."

Just so you know, it's incredibly fun to write a confused Irina.

Thanks to everybody for the reviews! They mean a lot to me! PLEASE keep it up! If possible, I'd like to have at least 3 before I update again! Otherwise, how do I know that people want me to continue?

Thanks again!

-Joelle8