What the Voices Say
Chapter 25-Discoveries Of Both Natures
This is the result of chapter 24. Hope you like
DISCLAIMER: Artemis is not mine. But Sophia and Sasha are. No touchy!!
Review!
Thanks for reading!
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Tara had finished another day's coat of topaz paint, ironically the gemstone that had introduced her to the big mess.
After a shower she sat behind the grand desk in the study/rec room, opening the day's mail. She got little correspondence, so the few letters and such were opened quickly. For all she knew, codes for help could be in the department store fliers. Today there was only a cell phone bill (fake, she only used that one to call restaurants in Israel or other far places. It was a prop, to be used only for the bill.), a letter from her "Aunt" Martha (written by Sasha. Having no family would seem suspicious, so there were occasional cards and letters from various family members-most were real people, only decades dead and going by their middle names) and finally an envelope from Sarah Gavin. One sheet of expensive, cream-colour, embossed with initials, paper with a sappy letter detailing how the garden was in full bloom. Sophia sharpened her eyes to make out the boldest letters-they were hardly to be noticed by anyone else, but Sophia had been trained by the same hand Sasha was and therefore the letters anagrammed to "Call me".
So she did just that, picking up the sleek black device and dialing the untraceable number to the cell her sister always kept on her person. Sophia had no doubt that if Artemis really wanted to, he could find that number easily. She knew that he occasionally eavesdropped via taps and bugs, but tried to make his kiddie maze a little harder. The poor boy needed some entertainment.
"Tara?" A curious voice asked in a lithe, light tone. They had arranged to use the pseudonyms when on that line, and every other as well, within in Manor walls. However, this cell was also a signal. If one sister called the other on it, while the other was known to be outside of the Manor, the aliases were to be used, and a danger of discovery (nicknamed DOD by Sasha) lay afoot.
"Sarah. I received your letter." Sophia replied in a falsely cheerful voice. "The garden sounds lovely. I should visit the house more often, I miss the snapdragons. –" There was no decent back yard, let alone garden. Sophia cast a guilty glance to the potted ferns that had slowly been turning brown throughout her stay. "-The grounds here are a beauty too, you should visit sometime as well!"
"Any reason for your call?" Sasha asked sweetly, though annoyance was pricking through. She preferred a blunter straight-to-it way of these chats. Sophia loved to pile jokes and insults into it.
"Not really, now that you mention it! But what the heck, let's do lunch!"
Thirty minutes later she sat in a café, the same little trendy one she had her first date (It really had been her first. Being an international thief and overall social hermit due to said career, there were not many chances to date. Not that there hadn't been invites. Plenty of, just no interest on her part. For a first time gold digger, she was good) with Artemis. She was sipping water when Sasha arrived. The teen skidded in, praising the gods for air conditioning and soda.
Sophia glared. "I was all set to leave. Timeliness is appreciated."
Sasha rolled her baby blues, use to such lectures. "I'm here and that's the point. Now, do you wish to talk? And nice hair." She said, eyeing the black layer cut that rested naturally on Sophia scalp. It added to the 'emo' look she was already pulling off, her natural pale skin glowing against the black and maroon of her outfit.
"Thanks." Sophia said. "I'm thinking of getting it cut like this, maybe less layer, with highlights, or in a lighter red for summer-"
Sasha cut her off, knowing it could take full hours for her sibling to discuss her auburn locks, her crowning glory. Though, no one else knew that. With so many people fawning over her hair, Sophia acted like it was a burden, which it could be at time, but in truth adored it. Not for the attention it brought her, a bad thing in her line of work but for its beauty that she could appreciate herself. The colour, fine threads of hair, the way it curled, waved or straighten with ease.
"News?"
"Yes." Sophia sighed. " But first: How are you, Sass? Are you feeding yourself? Are you on that dumb PC all day? Really, you should get out more, exercise. We've lived here for five years and you still haven't seen the parks! Get out some, please Sassy."
"I'm fine. I eat, I jog, I even go out of doors some days, okay?" Sasha said, disgruntled. "Enough about me, let's talk money. Or rather, gems. I've talked to our regular buyers, even the Arabian couple that bought the Egyptian artefacts. Nobody is interested. Apparently there is somethin' odd in its discovery. I've heard rumors of aliens and dinosaurs. But no one wants it. I suggest we make an offer to that Russian group we sold the Scarlyn pieces to; they always are buyin' stuff like that."
When Sasha used less 'g's in words ending in "ing" she was frustrated. Sophia knew she must have gone though hell and back looking for buyers. The only reason she wasn't talk to the Russian was out of fear; they were nearly last resort. Easily insulted, cheap, and picky, Sophia had to be cautious when dealing with them. She had saved her sister from their grasp only months ago when Sasha, with her big mouth, had insulted a foot solider. They had been so angry, just over the footman, a technical nobody. Still, they kept up business, seeing Sophia a noble, if not a little stupid.
"Where is it?"
"The rock? At the house."
"Sassy!" Sophia scolded. " It's not safe, therefore you are not safe. Take it to the Jeweler." She said sternly in reference to a guy with private lock box system that he rented out. It was safer than putting in a bank. No questions, no snooping. The perfect hidey-hole for the sisters' illegal artifacts and stole objects.
"Yeah, yeah. Anyhow, about your job…any progress?" Sasha asked, winking.
" A little." her sister admitted.
"Liar." Sasha grinned. "Still a virgin, eh Soph?" She teased.
"Sasha!" Sophia hissed, appalled.
The younger girl snickered. "I know you wouldn't. You're such a goodie-goodie. If it were me…" She drifted off, an evil glint in her eye.
"You're only 19!"
"Plu-eez." Sasha shook her head. "Get up with the times, Jane Austen. Hardly anyone keeps the belt on past 17."
Sophia shifted uncomfortably, wanting to change the subject very, very badly. They'd barely reached second base a month ago, so sex was way out of the picture. She wasn't even convinced that Artemis didn't still have his virginity intact. Sasha said he didn't, but he was just so shy about things like that…or at least, he had been. He was very enthusiastic about making out. But sex only came up once. He asked if she was still a virgin, and she answered truthfully, that yes, she was. She asked if he was, and if he planned to stay that way. Blushing, he had replied yes on both accounts, and slid out of the room silently (Well, almost. He knocked over a chair in his hurry.), face still tomato red.
"So what news?" she asked, sipping her coffee. Black, no creamer, sugar, or alcohol. Something to wake her up, even if the paint fumes had already done that twice over. Even in early June she had her coffee in the morning.
"He knows our names."
Sophia choked. Sasha reached over to pat her on the in one smooth rhythm. When she was done hacking up her lungs, Sophia sat back up, glaring and gasping. It was another minute before she could speak properly in full sentences, and not raspy gasps.
"Do not-" She growled. "-spring that crap on me right after I've eaten or drunken something."
Sasha shrugged, nonchalant, in a 'Whaddya-gonna-do-about-it?' manner and sipped her own tea. They had always found it comical that out of the two of them, Sasha who was affectionately referred to as "The American Chick" was the tea addict, while Sophia had a preference for coffee, she being the more Irish.
"How? How does he know? Sassy, we blacked out all the files. Everything. Burned all records, years ago!"
"I would guess that we missed one." The girl said quietly.
"No! We did not! You know as well as I that we didn't. You flew to India yourself for the five from '98!
How did he find them when nothing is left?!" At that moment she both hated and admired him. How did he get such information? Not even that Minerva girl he had been seeing had such a clean slate. Sure, she had nearly no photos in the public, but there were a few things of personal information out there.
"Are you sure?" Sasha asked still quiet.
Sophia estimated there were, maybe two "lost" files containing their info. Both were far out of Fowl's reach, she was sure. And she was positive he hadn't gotten his pale, manicure hands on them: her informants would have made contact by now if he had. Just in case, Sophia told Sasha to give the hired spies a call, just to check.
"What else does he know?" she demanded, spearing a cherry tomato so brutally that it sprayed juice across the plate and on her pants, dripping as she brought it to her lips, but she paid it no mind.
"Nothing as far as I can tell. Names, mostly."
"Whose names?" Sophia snapped. Names were far more important that he sister knew. A single name to bring down nations. Her father taught her that if anything was sacred, a name was. " Give places, times, codes, but not names." He said, looking her straight in the eyes. "Names put families in danger. Children in danger. All but names if you can help it, lass." Her father was noble more than anyone would ever know.
"Dad's. Our mailman's. Oh, and the Dali Lama's."
"Sassy." Sophia warned.
"Fine. Just Dad's. But that's useless."
"Why does he bother?" Sophia groaned. Ever since the pair had discovered Artemis' sudden interest of the De Beers topaz and search for its thieves, things had become difficult, to say the least. Their informant, a professional computer hacker, had found traces of Artemis' work on various web pages detailing the robbery, and other incidents that were oddly similar. No one in law enforcement had made any sort of connection, partly due to the great distance of the crimes, and partly because the similarities were far and few between. The hacker had confided in Sophia that he doubted it was solely Artemis' interest, rather a customer. Apparently, every so often Fowl got some wild goose chase of a case from some mystery company, always the same one. The informant guessed Fowl found his answer every time, since the company came back for more business. This didn't ease Sophia's fear any less. Someone was looking for them, and if it wasn't Fowl, then could it possibly be anyone worse than Fowl? And either way you rolled the dice, Fowl was looking for them, whether independently, or for a client, he was still looking.
"If I had known…" Sophia sighed. If I had known he was looking for us then I wouldn't have walked right into his cage.
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Three weeks after this event and 20 days after Sophia sold her soul, she sat at another café. Sasha, who was the one being demanded today, stirred her penne in Alfredo around, casting glances around occasionally, waiting for Sophia to get past the pleasantries and get on with the real problem.
60 minutes earlier her sister had stood at the threshold of the apartment out of breath and wet, for it was raining. Sasha was more than a little freaked. She hadn't even called, which wasn't like her character. Sure, she was the absent-minded artist, but she was traditionally polite in an Emily Post sort of way.
"Soph?" Sasha asked, concerned. "It's not even Wednesday. What's up?"
"Not here." Sophia managed to pant, beckoning her sister to follow. With umbrella in hand Sasha was led to a café, more artsy, less trendy then the last. Questions bubbled up inside her, but knew not to ask anything until her sibling was ready. When her sister got in one of those moods it was pointless.
"I have news." Sophia finally announced quietly.
Sasha's eyes snapped up. "What kind of news?" she asked, just as quiet and cautious.
"Not the good kind." Sophia fidgeted. Best be blunt. No beating around the bush.
That would just piss Sasha off even more. "I'm engaged."
"Oh." Sasha relaxed. "I worried you were going to say expecting. I'm not ready to be an auntie."
"I'm serious."
"As am I, darling. To Fowl, I presume?"
Sophia grimaced. "Yeah."
Sasha was amused. Any normal sister duo would have been disrupting the shop with high-pitched screams of joy. They were quiet discussing the engagement with obvious unhappiness, or at least, the future bride was. It was beyond normal. So blue it was orange. So their family.
"Then what's the problem?" Sasha asked, still laughing inside.
"Besides the fact that I am to be chained by marriage? None, none at all!"
Sasha tilted her head. "Oh. I see the problem." She stated softly. "You love him."
Sophia sat, mouth agape. No words came out for a long time. Finally a few mangled sounds before:
"What. The. Hell."
"It makes sense." Her sister shrugged. "Perfect sense. So much alike. First guy you've really dated. Oh really." She said catching sight of her sister still open mouth. "It's not like it's impossible. You like him as a friend; you love him as a…lover." She made a face. "Whatever. Now, are you going to have to admit it."
"Yes." Sophia said miserably.
"I didn't expect this."
"Neither did I."
"I mean, I was guessing July, and a ring at least." she glanced disapprovingly at her sister's left hand.
"What, you mean the engagement? You expect me to-"
"Well, I was expecting both. Though sooner in your case, and later in the proposal. And no ring? Really, now!" Sasha openly scoffed.
"It's not set; his 'rents don't know." Sophia explained. "A band would be kinda obvious." She gazed at her sister, wonder unhidden. "What do I do?"
"Don't announce it publicly. That'll make the break more…you know. Public. And don't tell the rents. I do not want Angeline Fowl hunting us down. "
"I'm talking about the-" Sophia started. Then her eyes got wide. "No. Wait. You want me to go through with it anyways. Break it."
"Well, yeah." Sasha shrugged. "That's the plan. Part of the deal."
Sophia shook her head, unable to believe it. "But it will hurt him. That's inhumane, Sass."
Sasha laughed softly. "Oh darling. What ever are you going to do? Stay Tara Gavin all your life? Marry him? Have a family? Live a lie forever? Let him find out-for he will, you know. Eventually. Do you even think he loves you? It's all political. You know that. It was a job to him. Duty, not passion. And if you told him, do you expect welcome? For all the lies and nightmares to just fade? What can you do, Tara Gavin, but leave? And why not with a little something to support your new life in America?" She winked.
"No. It's cruel."
"That's life. And that's hypocritical. When I said you were similar, I meant it. Would you do the same thing to him if your places switched?"
"No."
"Right." Sasha laughed bitterly. "I tried to stop you from developing feelings, but looks like I failed. "
"I can't. How can you ask this? How can you expect… you know how I feel!"
"It's a crush." Sasha said with a wave of her hand.
"No, no it's not. He's my best friend! I may not want to, but I'll stay. For him. Take the money, leave us be." Sophia begged. "Don't make me do it. I would hurt so much. "
"I don't want the money!" Sasha groaned. "I want my sister to come with me to America after we finish this final job with no loose ends."
"I can't do it. I'm sorry." Sophia remained firm. "You can stay here with me, or go to America with whatever is left." She made her decision fast. "I am staying. I wish you would too. I do not want to lose you, believe me, I don't. But, he's my best friend."
"Who would kill you in heartbeat if he knew your name and real reason of interest." Sasha hissed, venom in each vowel. "I am your sister."
Sophia pulled back, surprised. What? Had her sister forgotten to take her medication?
"Your choice, Sasha." Sophia said sadly. Their family had always been making quick decisions. "You're not a minor. I can't control you. But I love you no matter what you do. Call me if you need anything, I'm here. " She started to rise from her chair.
"No!" Sasha whimpered, working her poor 'poor-little-me' act quite nicely. "I'm sorry Sophie, please stay."
Sophia lowered herself back into the chair.
"You're doing exactly what you promised you wouldn't."
"No, I'm not." Sophia protested.
"From where I'm standing you are."
"Sass, you understand that I will never abandon you. And that I'm already stuck between a rock and a hard place, thanks. Besides you said that if I wanted…he's my best friend. I'm asking you to stay. Be apart of this. He's wonderful…when he's not being a prick. Stay. Please."
"No." Sasha stood. "I'd love to, but America calls."
Sophia knew her sister was acting, but at least wasn't pitching a fit. Her quick calm made her sister a little nervous. Mood swings?
Then she looked. Really looked at her sister. The years have left us. Sasha was a young woman, not the sniffling teen she had been when they moved to Ireland. Scams and thefts made her cocky, foolhardy. Dear lord, I'm leaving her to destruction, aren't I?
"Are we at least on terms?"
Sasha gave a small, cheerless smile. "Yes, my dearest sister."
Always quick to make up.
Sophia stood to hug her. "I love you." She whispered. "Never forget. Call me if you need help. Promise."
Sasha only nodded, distracted. Sophia stepped back, hardening her gaze.
"Burn the files, the photos…anything incriminating or suspicious. Sell the rock. Visit me. I'll come see you in about a week."
"Come to me in America."
Sophia smiled too, one similar to her sister's. Sasha wasn't stay. Typical. "I will."
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Sasha sat alone in the foyer, crouched over a framed photo a little over ten years old. An orange bottle of pills sat on her lap, unopened. The moonlight illuminated the four faces. And Argentine-French blonde, an Irish rouge, and two children a pair of girls. One was tiny, pixy and blonde like her mother, with her Papa's squinted smile and freckles. The other, possibly the eldest by a few years was darker, with auburn hair and twinkling blue-green eyes so much like her fathers. His spirit was emanating on her, like a torch. Though her skin was pale, without the brown spots like her sibling, she was hinted olive.
It was taken years ago, on one of the rare times her father had been home. It was before they had to hide, before either of them knew what their training truly meant. Sophia was near 12, with Sasha trailing behind her at eight. By that time Sophie could speak at least 4 languages fluently. Sasha was struggling with Gaelic, for her father, having already mastered French and Spanish from their mother. Their Father was still favorite and working part-time for America. Sasha would do her best impress him with her progress. While he was full of praise, little unstable "Sassy" always felt he gave Sophia more regard. He watched her kicks and lock picking with warmer eyes.
Sasha now sat sinking into insanity slowly. Sophia, her beloved sister, whom she had looked up to forever, had abandoned her. For the "Great Artemis Fowl II". Rich little cuss.
She can't leave.
It's her life.
I am her life, not HIM.
But you're not-
NO! He is the one in wrong. He took her.
The reasonable side was crushed easily, leaving only madness, to take the wheel.
He will pay. She will too.
Sasha threw back her head, laughing manically, madly, hurling the bottle of medication out the open window.
It was one of many acts that led to her personal, full-on, forceful madness, though no one would find it for quite some time.
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I don't know if anyone caught the "Blue to Orange" thing. My art teacher claims orange is right across from blue on the colour wheel (I thought it was red! Silly me!) therefore blue's opposite so lately a I've been using "Well, that was so out of the blue it was orange." In her honor. It's mine, but you can use it. Maybe it'll spread across the nations, and I'll be known as the girl who coined the phrase!!
That would rock.
Anyhow, it's a little confusing. I'd like to remind you that Sasha has a mild case of schizophrenia, one that is controlled through medication. She has a pretty good hold on it, but this one was coming. Including the stress and complications of her problem, it was only a matter of time before she cracked.
-Dania