I stifled a yawn behind my hand, watching with rapt attention as Stellan angrily put on his boots. He slammed them onto the ground in front of himself, ripping the laces and mumbling things in French. My eyes darted to Elodie, hands on her hips, rolling her eyes at his temper tantrum. Glaring at her the entire time he shoved his feet in and yanked on the laces. Luckily, I was still shaking the sleep off as I watched the battle unfold from my spot nestled in the bed. This floor show was an interesting way to wake up, there were few things more tantalizing than a Stellan and Elodie sparring match, but it was all very one-sided. Elodie was operating only in French and Stellan kept weaving in and out of English as they bickered in front of me.
Shoes on, he shot her another dirty look and stormed off toward his closet. He still had bed head. I forced myself to yawn so I didn't laugh. I was pretty sure one of them would attack me if I did.
"One more time," he yelled out from the closet, "explain it to me."
Elodie's face scrunched in frustration, but she took a deep, settling, breath, and started in French again. I sat up in bed, pulling the covers with me and punching at the pillows to get more comfortable as Stellan stormed back out into our room.
"And why does it have to be me exactly?" He snarled.
"Avery," Elodie turned to me, raising an eyebrow, "how good is your Russian?"
Stellan clenched his fists and I froze for a moment. There was no need to drag me into this, that was half the fun of watching them fight - being a spectator. I shrugged, "dovol'no plokho."
Elodie nodded, smiling smugly at Stellan as she turned back to face him. "See?"
"You know what you're making me miss for this." He snapped snatching his phone up off the nightstand and shoving it into his pocket.
"Well, don't fuck it up and maybe you can be back in time," Elodie demurely answered. I couldn't stop the single laugh that bubbled up on that one.
Turning it into a cough I tried to hide it by grabbing the nearby water glass, but I could feel their eyes on me.
"Ma'am?" Gemma called out from the doorjamb and we all turned to see her holding a tray of breakfast with the dreaded lists of doom perched on the side. "Shall I delay our meeting?"
"Nope," I answered jumping out of bed and bee-lining it for the closet. I didn't get to see them leave but I heard Stellan sharply call out to Elodie,
"Quicker!"
Jesus, maybe my Saxon debrief, Leap Year Ball planning and three hour Circle Women's summit wouldn't be such a bad alternative today. Though, it would have been entertaining to figure out which one of them was going to crack first this morning.
"Enough, we have wasted far too much time on new procedures for the book of names," Valentina Martín ordered with a large sigh. It was met with quite a few narrowed eyes but the group took a moment to reset. I looked down at my phone hoping it would have something that would excuse me from this torture. I was instantly relieved:
St. Lucia's - Anya's Christmas Pageant
When I'd concocted this brilliant plan a few months ago it had been met with some hesitation from Elodie. She hadn't explained why, but I was steadfast in my resolve. We had already made progress with the arranged marriage decree and Stellan had been working tirelessly on the transition away from Keepers. This final decree to the Circle was my tentpole and I was not about to back down from something so historically important to the world. We had to keep momentum on this front. Even if everyone outside the Circle would never really be able to tell the difference. Ensuring equal power for the female heads of the Families was going to turn the tide for us in the long run, we needed this to succeed. I'd relentlessly been brushing up on all things Circle in preparation as well as getting crash courses in world economics and peacekeeping strategies.
It hadn't even taken fifteen minutes before I'd realized why Elodie had given me that skeptical look - everything they were talking about was so nuanced and particular to their shared history none of what I'd learned mattered. I let out a breath from my nose so you couldn't tell how exhausted I was. I would have taken running through the streets of Ibiza again before having to try and keep track of this. It had been about thirty minutes of actual progress, two hours of humble brags designed to vie for my approval on things, which only left this final half-hour to drag each other. It was almost pitch black in here from the amount of shade they'd been throwing.
"We need to continue the discussion on Keepers," Samarah Amir offered up, shifting in her padded wingback chair. Everyone but Zara Konings heads started to nod, she gave Samarah a confused look,
"What more is there to say? I thought the decree was pretty clear."
"Perhaps for your Family," Samarah replied with a tight smile. "But mine is dead, Michiyo's is her husband now and Diya and Valentina's belong to their brothers. It would be unwise to transfer them when the whole point of a Keeper is to form a confidential bond."
"Is that what we're calling it now?" Valentina drawled, raising an eyebrow at Samarah. She glared back in response.
"Why would that exclude me exactly?" Zara barreled right over Valentina's barb. "Declan has no intention of transferring Peter to me."
"I think you've all missed the point of the decree. There isn't a need for Keepers anymore." Michiyo huffed, rubbing at the top of her very swollen belly.
"How so?" Samarah wondered folding her hands in her lap.
"A Keeper of the Key's main purpose was to ensure the heir lived so they could eventually both transition into ruling the Family." Michiyo shifted uncomfortably, sitting up from her reclined position on the couch. "We're not fighting each other for power anymore, we're serving the 13th Family. The focus should be shifted to how your marriage will better your territory."
"You're saying we don't need Keepers at all?" Samarah widened her eyes at her.
"She's saying you shouldn't be arguing about hiring a spy for your Family in front of your Queen," Valentina nodded toward me with a smirk.
"How dare you," Samarah's cheeks turned bright red against the pale white of her hijab. "My loyalty lies solely with the 13th Family. Who do you think got them out of Egypt?"
"If you're that worried about security Samarah, why don't you hire someone outside your territory? Recruit from MI6 or the Mossad." Zara tacked on. Samarah gave her a withering look in return.
"I have a question," Diya Rejesh's voice rose above the crowd. "Why isn't Luc Dauphin here?"
"Because this is a woman's summit," Michiyo replied giving her a peculiar look.
"But everything you four have been arguing about for the past hour pertains to him as well. He has to replace his Keeper and now he doesn't have to marry one of us," Diya expanded, glancing at Zara seated next to her on the overstuffed couch.
The room went instantly silent for a beat as Diya started to fidget nervously. All eyes shifted to me and I tried to remain neutral. Had she said something bad? Offensive? Was I supposed to yell at her? I'd just been falling back on Elodie's first rule of Circle domination this whole summit - keep your mouth shut and they'll hang themselves.
"Apologies...I didn't mean to imply that Stellan...I mean His Majesty was…" Diya fell over herself and I raised a hand to stop her. The power of the room shifted to me again and I tried to settle with the feeling. It was quite unnerving to see all these women, much older than me, waiting to hang on my every word. I wasn't quite sure what to do with that, but I at least knew the answer to her question.
"I did invite him. But Hugo Dauphin interpreted the title of this summit to exclude his son. Allegedly."
"Of course he did," Samarah grumbled. "What about you Valentina?"
"Oh, I'm taking Fernando for myself." Valentia reached her hand out to play with the crystals on the bottom of the lampshade next to her. "His talents are completely wasted on keeping Mateo alive."
"Oh my," Michiyo gasped. Everyone brustled at her callousness. Everyone but Samarah.
"I was asking about the marriage," she clarified.
"That's so impolite Samarah!" Diya hissed at her.
Valentina just shrugged and smiled back sardonically at Samarah. She shook her head while she played with her stack of golden bracelets. I got the distinct feeling these two had been sparring with each other since childhood. My phone buzzed again and I looked down to see I only had five minutes of this torture left before I'd get to excuse myself. I wondered if there would be a catfight once I left.
"It's a valid question," Samarah calmly started, folding her hands in her lap. "How could you produce an heir? How could Luc Dauphin? If the point is to keep the legacy of our family's alive so they can continue to rule their territories under the watch of the 13th Family then there has to be offspring."
"There have been plenty of bastards that took the seat of a rightful heir in a Family over the years Samarah. Why would this be any different?" Valentina darkly warned.
"Indeed," Michiyo glared at her.
"Besides," Zara cut over the tension, "Her Majesty's heir is the only one that matters."
All eyes turned to me again and I forced myself to give a small smile, but this spike of panic filled my chest. I knew I had to say something, anything, this was a moment to make an indication of how I was leaning on this topic. But my mind blanked out as I looked anywhere but at Michyo's swollen belly.
"Pardon," Jack's voice cut into the room and I held my breath so I wouldn't let it woosh out of me with relief. "Sorry to interrupt but I'm here to ensure we don't get caught in traffic."
"Excuse me," I rose, my stomach bubbling with unease as everyone rose after me, even Michiyo.
"Your Majesty," they all bowed with their hands to their foreheads. I just stared, unsure what to do exactly, making a mental note to talk to Elodie about this because it was just too weird. They all raised their heads smiling at me.
"Shall we reconvene in a quarter?" Samarah brightly asked, her eager smile matching that on all the other faces. It was jarring. Weren't they bickering this whole time? Why would they want to do this again? I nodded with another forced smile and turned toward Jack, giving him a 'get me out of here' look that he grinned at. He held the door open for me and I let out the breath I'd been holding.
As soon as we were out of earshot, marching down the red-carpeted hallway toward the front of the property, Jack casually asked,
"Should I have Elodie arrange the next summit for you?"
"Could she also arrange some valium for it?" I cracked back.
"For you or for them?" He laughed, holding open the front door for me. Gemma was waiting outside, my two costume changes draped across her arms in their garment bags, my lunch hanging from one of her hands.
"Thank you, Gemma," I smiled kindly at her, taking the lunch. She fell into step behind us, placing the garments in the trunk as Jack held the door to the car open next. I stopped and made eye contact with Jack, answering, "for them."
He nodded, grinning, and then closed the door behind me as I slid in.
Jack and I shifted in our shoes outside the Saxon Memorial Performing Arts Center at St. Lucia's. Every time I was given an update on the place I'd inwardly scowl about it. I wanted to change the name but that wouldn't help with the public Saxon front. At least we were waiting inside, and not out in the cold. Rushed sets of parents were skittering past us through the open double doors toward the dark theater behind the double doors to our left. I could catch a glimpse of a huge red curtain in front of a sea of quickly filling seats.
Of course, the guest of honor was the last to be seated. Unfortunately, with an empty seat next to me. Just another way for the school to double down on my celebrity for their own advancement. You would have thought that was the thing filling me with gnawing anxiety about all this, but it was my capacity here, in general, that was. I was at a very familiar situation - a school play - but in a very different capacity - parent. Or quasi-parent, I was still trying to feel that out with Anya. It felt wrong to have only Jack here with me. I knew he loved Anya as much as the rest of us, he's sworn to die protecting her, but he wasn't Stellan. That's probably what had made him so moody this morning. I rolled my eyes at the memory and then looked back at the entrance of the venue again.
"Is it that breathtaking?" Jack lowly asked, slightly to my right and behind me. I shrugged. Between the brain fatigue and the barrage of noise from the quickly filling performance hall, I could barely tell what I was looking at. The grand hallway toward the entrance to the play had been decorated in festive colored paper streamers looping along the walls, glittery stars and snowflakes twirling from the ceiling above us, and what appeared to be empty boxes wrapped in Christmas, Hanukkah and Kwanzaa colored paper and bows. When you included the butcher block paper meant to look like snow over the entrance and tinsel covering the real tree in the corner they might have spent about $50 on all this. It made me question how all my money was being spent at this place.
"The snow over the doorway reminds me of the Griswold's house," I finally answered back.
"Someone you knew in Minnesota?" He wondered. I looked over my shoulder at him and frowned.
"Really?"
"What?" He crossed his arms over his suit covered chest, his giant watch popping out and glinting in the afternoon light from one of the alcove windows.
"Here I was thinking you were a good spy," I answered looking back down at my program searching for Anya's name.
"I never said I was a spy."
"Just a transfer student," I smiled at him and then noticed a group of giggling girls pretending they weren't looking directly at me as they passed on their way in. I switched to a terse smile and straightened my shoulders. Despite the empty hallway there was always going to be eyes on me. "Wouldn't the names of everyone I knew be on my dossier?"
"There weren't that many. For sure not a Griswold." He took a step closer both of us leaning against the stone of the alcove. It was beautiful, the ancient windows, the soft winter light, the glitter forever stuck on the floor now from all these decorations.
"And didn't you have creepy training on what normal people watched and did?" I looked over my shoulder at him again and couldn't help my smirk at his affronted reaction.
"Creepy?" Jack narrowed his eyes at me, but the smallest little smirk was forming.
"Like having to take notes on boy bands while simultaneously being taught how to strangle someone." I clarified for him. He took a breath as if he was going to say something, but then we both shifted away from each other, like we were the ones back in school, as clacking heels stormed down the hall. Not the headmistress, just another pair of late parents. The father did a double-take at the two of us as they practically sprinted toward the venue.
The hallway empty again Jack leaned toward me, almost touching my shoulder, and asked, "do you mean to say the boy band part is the creepy half of that equation?"
"Yes!" I laughed, nudging his shoulder with my own. I was expecting Jack to keep his usual stoic professionalism, but he leaned in enough so he could lower his voice and said,
"Stab Stellan a couple more times and I'll give you a gold star for hand to hand combat."
"Jack!" I whirled on him, bursting with laughter and grabbing his shoulder as I tried to control myself.
"It's harder than you think it'll be. I would know," he laughed back, a bright smile across his face. I took a deep breath, feeling my whole body relax despite the noise still happening behind us. I squeezed his arm and then heard it. Giggling. Shuffling. Whispers. I snapped my head around to see who was spying on us now, but they were gone. Middle school terrors likely.
I broke up the comfortable silence between us with, "National Lampoon's Christmas Vacation. It's a movie."
"Ah," he replied. "There's your problem. I was trained on creepy British pop culture."
"The fact that you just admitted that makes it ten times creepier." I giggled to myself, leaning heavier against the alcove so I could take some weight off my lower back. I bet Elodie would stop making me wear all these sky-high heels if I made her massage my back every night. I laughed to myself at that thought.
"Now imagine not knowing a word of French and coming from a barely post-Soviet Russia." He joked and I stopped, putting my pointer finger to my mouth as I contemplated it. I had never really thought of it that way before, but that must have been incredibly hard for Stellan. He continued to surprise me, even in his absence.
I hummed in appreciation, "he's come a long way."
"I've always thought so," Jack replied and from the corner of my eye, I caught a smile spread across his face.
I wanted to ask more about this strange period of time they shared. Before Family's and tattoos and love triangles and all that mess. This time that would have constituted as their shared childhood, even with the language barrier. But they never spoke of it, and there was something inherently sad about that. Even further depressing when you considered I was the only one that technically had a normal childhood, in spite of all the moving.
"I used to watch it with my mother. The movie."
"Family tradition?" He pushed.
I thought back on all the times we had managed to watch Christmas Vacation growing up. My mother had said it was something she'd always done growing up, but with whom and where? I had believed her absolutely, but now I wasn't so sure. I knew so little about her childhood. And now I'd come to realize, after my serendipitous run-in with Amelia, that she'd been orchestrating my own. I couldn't get rid of this nagging thought at the back of my mind ever since that meeting that everything had been a lie.
"I don't know anymore. I feel like I don't know her at all now."
"Because of that girl from the ice skating rink?"
I nodded and then looked down the hall for the headmistress again, Jack shadowing me. "Why would she have done that to me? She knew how lonely I was."
"I'm sure it tore her up inside," he gently replied. I shook my head ready to rebuttal when he pressed on, "she went to great lengths to keep you safe all those years."
"But to deny me friends? Real friends that cared about me? What threat could they have been?"
"Avery," he stepped forward so we were in front of each other now. "Remember what happened the moment I figured out who you really were?"
I did. Everything had changed. He was right.
I got an awful, sick feeling in the bottom of my stomach for thinking ill of my mother. Her quick and hushed tone on my voicemail begging me to stay put floated back up from where I'd been hiding it in my brain, punishing me. I should have never doubted her, alive or dead. She had been protecting me even when I'd outright defied her. I had destroyed everything she'd dedicated her life to with a single decision. I pressed my lips together to try and hold back the swell of tears, then took a deep, shaky, breath. We only had an hour here at St. Lucia's before I had the tree lighting ceremony with the Royal Family and dinner with the Prime Minister of some country I couldn't remember. And of course the Order meeting nightcap. The fatigue welled inside me again and I tried not to sigh. Appearances were everything, and every move I made today was about to be scrutinized by the world I'd always been sheltered from.
"Mrs. Korolov!" The headmistress called out to me as she hurried down the hall. Jack and I instinctively straightened our spines. "We're ready for you now."
My head jiggling a little is what slowly pulled me from my magnificent nap. Stellan silently laughed again, his body shaking as he quietly answered back something in French. I shifted a little, my neck stiff from falling asleep on his leg, but I refused to open my eyes. I had earned this nap, and it was necessary if everyone wanted me to pay attention to the nightcap we had next. His fingers slowly gathered the hair at the nape of my neck, combing and twisting and generally making me melt further into the couch for a variety of reasons until he said goodbye and hung up.
"Sorry," he whispered.
"Shhhh I'm sleeping," I whispered back.
"Do you always snuggle deeper into my femur when you sleep?" His fingers made another pass and I couldn't stop the little groan of satisfaction. "You're like a cat."
"Last time I checked cats didn't have to stand in six-inch heels to watch a Christmas tree get poorly lit."
He laughed softly, continuing his pets, "so you're a grumpy kuklachka tonight?"
"Shhhh," I commanded him and dug deeper into his thigh - on purpose.
"Ah," he shifted, uncomfortable, "I should have known when you just pushed all your food around and refused to make small talk."
"It was gross. They were boring. I am tired." I curtly answered, flipping around so I was facing away from him instead. I shifted until my head was comfy and his hand gently pulled all my tangled hair out so he could continue to run his fingers through it.
"You're really tired, aren't you?" He asked, stopping his fingers and I shrugged. If I told him how drowsy I felt I was pretty sure the universe was going to punish me with the flu. That was how karma worked right?
"You should stay," he answered himself, shifting a bit. I growled for him to stop but then sighed as he covered me with a blanket. Instead, I closed my eyes, mumbling,
"Just let me sleep until we have to leave for the Order meeting."
"We have more to do tomorrow. You're running yourself ragged, you'll catch something…" he started.
"Don't curse me!" I shouted over him. He resumed his petting and I heard his phone unlock above me. I let myself relax again, drifting in and out of sleep until he nudged me,
"I think I found our dog."
I cracked open an eye and let it focus to see the cutest, fluffiest, happiest looking dog I had ever seen in my life.
"Oh my god," I breathed. "What is it?"
"Portuguese Podengo," he flicked to another picture and my heart melted.
"Otlichno," I whispered.
"I knew I'd figure it out," he replied, sounding quite proud of himself. I blinked a couple more times, smiling, as I drifted back to sleep.
SLAM!
I sat up with a start, heart in my throat, head darting around our dark living room. There was a couch pillow where Stellan used to be and the blanket was tangled around my legs.
"Bloody, fucking hell!" Jack yelled out and my pulse started to pump even harder with worry.
He stormed around the corner, slamming his fist against the wall and illuminating the living room in blinding light. I squinted against it and heard him come to a halt. Cracking open an eye I didn't even have time to adjust as he barked out,
"You're supposed to be on a plane!"
"S...St…" I stuttered, uncomfortable with his angry tone, "Stellan must have left me behind."
"Of course he did," he grumbled, clenching his fists. "What's the excuse this time?"
"Tired. I think I'm getting sick," I hurriedly answered, but this ping of annoyance bounced around in my head. This time? And what could he possibly be so angry about that he felt the need to take it out on me? That wasn't his MO.
"Fine," he shook his head, stalking off toward the bedrooms. I heard him opening and closing two doors and then he stormed back out glaring at the TV as he rubbed at his tattoo over his dress shirt. I sat up, the blanket falling to the ground, hyper-aware of every move he made now. I was afraid to ask, but I forced myself to anyway, even with a shaky voice,
"Jack, what's wrong?"
"Nothing," he snapped and turned around appearing calm, though his eyes were still stormy.
I rose an eyebrow at him, "you sure?"
We stared at each other for a moment and my still sleep hazy mind pieced together all the other times Jack had given me this exact look. In Venice. In Greece. In France. All my nerves washed away and I narrowed my eyes at him. He was about to lie to me.
"It's fine." He forced a nod and took a step toward the front door.
"No," I ordered as I stood and moved into his path. I squared off against him. "Don't lie to me."
He clenched his jaw and looked down at his shoes. I waited. Even when I'd forced the three of them to give me the debrief in the car on the way back from the ice skating rink I knew Jack had still been withholding information from me. It was in his nature and training of course, but with him, I could just tell. I'd made it perfectly clear that I wanted and needed to know what was going on. Even if Stellan wasn't there.
With a deep inhale of breath he finally looked back up at me with a grimace, "there's been a breach in security. I haven't narrowed it down completely yet, but I have to take care of it tonight."
"Elodie and Stellan aren't here. It's just me, Jack. Tell me what it is, I can help you." I crossed my arms over my chest and widened my stance. He sized me up and then closed his eyes, taking a long breath through his nose. When he opened them back up he was settled and determined,
"We have to kill Alistar Saxon. Right now."
I knew I was nodding, but my body felt numb. Maybe I was shaking in agreement or just to shake off the bone-deep exhaustion I was feeling? His skeptical eyes kept watching my unending nodding, growing darker with concern the longer I did it. I didn't ask why instead I hoarsely replied,
"Let's go."
"Avery," he shook his head. "You shouldn't…"
"Make good on my threat to the Circle?" I cut over him.
"It's not safe for you to..." he tried again but dropped off.
No longer feeling the pull to sleep, I unfolded my arms and forced my still numb feet to take a step back from him, toward the door. "Let's finish what we started. You and me."
Shock filtered across his face, his eyes narrowing at me while a single eyebrow rose on his forehead. Somewhere, deep in my soul, I knew it would come down to this. Jack and I. Our destiny's had been interweaving throughout our whole lives because of this one, awful, man. The pain he'd inflicted on both of us, the scars we had to carry for the rest of our lives because of him. He'd thought he'd be able to use us as pawns in his game, but now we'd won. It had to be us.
There was another beat between us as I watched the same resolve slowly alter his features. His face relaxed, his shoulders dropped and straightened, he nodded and then held out his hand to me. I took it, threading our fingers as he finally said, "let's go."
He took a few steps to move in front of me and then we were moving in tandem, our hands still joined, through the living room and out into the hallway. A few security guards darted down the red carpet in front of us, leaving the hidden door wide open as they rushed down the stairs. I took a deep breath and Jack squeezed my hand, tugging me down the steps with him.
We made it to the control room and the door was wide open as well, four people on all the chairs I'd seen empty before, frantically typing and zooming in on cameras. I caught the sight of empty cells and then a group of men in the white room. Jack tugged me again, wrenching the door open and guiding me down those steps as well. My eyes zeroed in on the drain in the floor first and I was flooded with memories of Lydia. Kneeling, tied up and sagging toward the floor. But then two more people rushed past us, excusing themselves as they took off toward the cells around the corner. There was this edge of panic in the air and when we hit the final step he let go, his hands quickly fluttering over all his weapons now clearly visible without his usual jacket and then straightened, morphing into that version of himself I didn't want to see.
"Status," he barked out and strode toward Roberts and two other guards huddled in the white room.
Roberts looked up at him with a grim expression which quirked into surprise at seeing me, "Your Majesty, we have contained the breach and are ready for the execution."
"And who was it?" Jack demanded.
"He's been…" Robert's dropped off as he looked me over again as if gauging how much he should divulge, "taken care of."
He gave me a little bow of his head and a shiver raced down my spine. I forced myself to nod and keep my face neutral.
"Let's move, we've already wasted enough time. Go grab him." Jack commanded to the two guards and then, "Roberts, get those arseholes upstairs in line. They're running around like chickens."
All three of them nodded at me and then took off to their tasks. I tried to breathe through my nose only, worried I might make myself hyperventilate if I opened my mouth, this was all happening so fast, completely opposite of what was done with Lydia. I heard a scuffling and huffs of effort as the guards drug a body with a hood over its head around the corner. They dumped it unceremoniously in front of the two of us, it hit the floor with a thud and one guard ripped off the hood to reveal furious purple eyes.
"Leave," Jack growled at the guards and they took off up the stairs without a glance back. I clenched my jaw as Alistar awkwardly moved onto his knees before us, his hands tied off behind his back. The door at the top of the stairs closed with a thud and there was absolute silence between the three of us.
I was afraid to take my eyes off of Alistar, even if he wasn't looking at me at all. His glare was solely on Jack and even on his knees, it was still threatening to behold. Unlike Lydia, he looked quite well, clean, fed, with a salt and pepper beard that covered his face now. I had no idea what all that meant, and I couldn't think through that at the moment. There was a threat in front of me and it needed to be eliminated. Since neither of them was going to say the first word, I shored up all the wits I had left and flatly demanded,
"Any last words?"
Alistar broke his eye contact to look me up and down once and then shifted on his knees so he was facing both of us. It made Jack take a step closer to me and I folded my hands behind my back so you couldn't see them shake.
He looked up at the camera's and then his whole face morphed into sincerity as he clearly and loudly answered,
"I did this for my family. I did this for my children." Then he turned in my direction on his knees and his face looked pleading even though his eyes were cold, "one day you'll have children Avery, then you'll understand. I'd do anything to protect them, I would have done the same for you."
Jack clenched his fists at his side and spat,
"Bullshit. You gave me execution orders."
My head snapped to my right, eyes popping out on my face, but Jack completely ignored me. He glared at Alistar who was shaking his head. Jack took a step toward him and said, "if her eyes are purple she's worth more to us alive than dead. Isn't that what you told me?"
Alistar stopped shaking his head, going still at the same moment that Jack reached behind his back and pulled out his gun,
"Answer me," he shouted.
"Of course I did," Alistar spat back as the breath wooshed out of my chest.
"You were going to let that fucking sociopath be the head of this Family over the rightful heirs to the Circle?" Jack demanded, flicking the safety off his gun. I struggled to take in a breath.
"Lydia," Alistar snapped. "It was always going to be Lydia running the Family."
"It should have been Oliver."
"I shouldn't have shown you so much mercy."
Jack let out a dark laugh that chilled me. "Is that what that was?"
"You were too close to Oliver. And that Dauphin Keeper." He snarled.
"And look at where we are now." Jack leveled his gun.
"Jack, you don't have to do this," I breathed toward him.
"Listen to your Queen, Keeper."
His words hit wrong in my brain. They came out so scathingly, so haughty, so familiar. I was instantly transported back to Alexandria. Another Saxon, kneeling before our drawn guns, spitting vitriol in our direction. So he was his father's son after all. It had all been an act. His compassion, his concern, his 'plausible deniability'. He never wanted me. He wanted my eyes. I felt woozy and overwhelmed. I looked over at Jack and it all hardened in my stomach as a tight, heavy ball. His finger was already on the trigger and moving.
Before I could say anything they popped off in quick succession. One through Alistar's head, right between his eyes, and the other through his heart. Jack stood perfectly still, glaring at the body as it continued to defy us both, remaining upright. His blank purple eyes staring straight at us, his blood soaking through his clothes, chunks of his brains slowly smearing down the wall behind him. Then he slumped to the left and crumpled to the floor. I turned to my right and threw up all over Jack's shoes.
Slick with sweat and shaking I threw up again, what little was left heaving from me in a painful swell. I felt his palm between my shoulders and that soothing tone he'd always used before,
"It's okay. Avery, it's okay."
"I'm," I started to say and dry heaved again. My head was spinning. How could he be so brutal in one moment and then unendingly kind in the next? My whole body shuddered with a chill, my stomach turning.
He carefully stepped out of his dress shoes, around the bile, and then slid an arm around my waist. I wiped my sleeve across my mouth and did a double-take of horror. My pearl-colored cashmere sweater was covered in a fine mist of blood and gunpowder. I swallowed down the gag, noticing next that my shoes and pants hadn't escaped the vomit either. I gave in and leaned heavily into him as he quickly moved us up the stairs.
The tears built in my already burning throat, choking me. We made it through the security door and he started barking orders at the security staff, most of it fuzzing out in my ears. Just like with Lydia. When we hit the landing at the top of the stairs he turned me toward himself and crouched down in front of me so we were eye level. He took a deep breath and quietly said,
"It's over now."
I nodded and swallowed hard against my burning, raw throat. Then he leaned forward and gently grabbed my face, his eyes so intense all my building panic stilled,
"You are not property. Neither am I. Don't ever forget that."
"I won't," I whispered back. He nodded and then let me go, rushing back down the stairs in his socks and already barking more orders at people. I pushed on the hidden door and stumbled out into the hallway, leaning against the wallpaper trying to breathe. Slowly my body sunk toward my knees and I felt the tears well inside me again.
Ding dong! Ding dong! Ding dong!
I blinked through my tears looking for anyone coming down the hallway to answer the front door.
Ding dong! Ding dong! Ding Dong!
"Hello?" My raw voice cracked as I called down the hallway, but still - no one. I scrubbed the tears off my face right as more guards darted past me and disappeared down the stairs to the basement. Then it hit me. I was the only one available. I glanced down at my vomit splattered pants and my blood dusted sweater and then wiped more mascara off from under my eyes.
Ding dong! Ding dong! Ding Dong!
I sat cross-legged on the floor so I could rip off the sweater, tossing it onto the carpet. Then I pulled the hairband off my wrist and tied up my hair into a messy bun, sniffling a few times as I forced myself to stand and crossed the few feet toward the front door. I checked myself in the enormous Edwardian mirror in the foyer taking in the pale sight as I wiped off the smears of mascara before turning to the door. The floor only grew colder under my bare feet and I took a final shaky breath before yanking open the front door.
The rain was pouring behind Valentina Martín as her finger paused over the doorbell. She was being saved from the storm by keeping under the archway on the porch of our grand entrance. Her staff was standing in the deluge, golf umbrellas shielding them from some of the storm as they waited by her still running town car.
"Your Majesty," she bowed her head toward me and then bent down to grab the bankers box at her feet, WEST written in big black letters along the top and one side.
"Valentina," I tightly replied, shuddering against the cold and sniffling too loud. She shifted the box to her hip, her eyes combing over my suspicious appearance. I didn't break eye contact with her. "I'm busy. What's in the box?"
She bowed her head again, "apologies. I worked with the Fredricks to get you this."
My heart started racing in my chest. I couldn't do it. I couldn't take one more scare today, I didn't think my weak heart or my broken brain could handle it. Nothing good could come from this box, because nothing good ever came from a Circle member. There was no one to intercept it like Elodie had trained me to do. I hesitated and then my manners finally won and I took the box from her hands. It was heavier than I'd expected. Valentina tried to look around me into the house as she explained,
"Your missing person's case was moved to INTERPOL once you'd been photographed in Europe, your Mother's as well once they found a photograph of her getting onto a plane. But with your recovery and then marriage and name change, things can get lost in all that bureaucracy. Especially when there is no next of kin to contact."
I looked closer at the lid. It was still taped shut, not that it meant anything but I appreciated the gesture.
"Have you looked at any of this?"
"My brother has ensured that taking care of loose ends became a specialty of mine," she emphasized. "But I taped it shut for you."
I gripped the handholds harder and let out a single, dark, laugh, "thanks, I guess."
"Think nothing of it, Your Majesty. Unfortunately, I will not be staying for the activities over the weekend. Mateo has created another issue for me to resolve. But I wanted to deliver this personally before I left." With a final bow, she turned to leave, one of her staff members jogging forward to cover her with their umbrella as she slid into her town car.
I couldn't have been more grateful to watch her go, there was no way I'd be entertaining Circle members with a dead Alistar in the basement and the evidence of it all over me. I waited until the car pulled away to kick the door shut and make my way back into the private wing, clutching the box to my chest because I didn't trust my still shaky hands. The living room was silent and dark, I pushed through it toward my office instead. Instant mistake. The giant wood carving of the Saxon compass on my desk was front and center. I grabbed the bottle of vodka off the cart and shifted the box to my hip, making my way down to our room instead.
The bedside table lamps created a soft glow that spilled across the comforter and cast shadows onto the headboard. I sighed, loudly, and then shuffled to the bed tossing the box and the vodka onto it so I could take off my ruined pants. My phone let off a muted buzz against the carpet and I sighed again, leaning over to pull it out from the pocket. Jack. Several texts from Jack sent to Stellan, Elodie and I, all in this strange shorthand I couldn't quite understand. But honestly I didn't need to decipher it, I'd been there. I tossed my phone onto the bed next and then crawled up onto it, pulling some decorative pillows around me to prop myself up.
I dragged the box towards me and closed my eyes for a moment, swallowing hard against my sore throat and trying to mentally prepare myself for this. For a fleeting moment, this little voice in the black vacuum of my overwhelmed mind warned me not to do it. But how could anything inside this box be worse than what I'd already seen today? Pandora would be my bitch tonight. I twisted the cap off the vodka and took as much of a sip as I dared. It stung, horribly, against my raw throat and I pounded on my chest trying to calm it down. I glanced down as my phone buzzed with three texts from Anya. Coughing I unlocked the phone and smiled, it was a picture of us after her pageant. She still had her elf costume on, her arms wrapped around my neck, as I crouched in my heels to hug her around her waist, both of us grinning at the camera. Jack had taken it after Anya's insistence that she needed a good picture of the two of us. It was followed by two texts from her,
Thank you so much for coming Avery.
It meant a lot to me.
Tears burned my eyes, and at this point, I just didn't know why anymore. Because of how proud I felt? Because of how horrible I felt that Stellan couldn't be there? Because I'd always wanted someone to rely on me like Anya did, even for small things like this? Because of the continuing stream of texts overlaying the picture from the other three? I locked my phone and wiped at my eyes. I was too much of a mess to text Anya back, and I had other things to take care of tonight. I opened my eyes, ripped off the tape and tossed the lid aside.
At first, it looked like a jumble of papers and small boxes, a mess that someone had rifled through. But as I took a steadying breath it started to formalize into memorable shapes.
This first was very familiar to me - my jewelry box. Crumbling corkboard, with a vinyl wrapping of a delicate cartoon ballerina doing a pirouette, and a cheap brass brushed latch that I'd lost the lock for. I smiled as I opened it seeing all the friendship necklaces, mood rings, buttons, and lanyards. The last time I looked through this jewelry box had probably been five years ago. I was having a hard time recalling some of the names of the girls that had given or made me these things. Putting it next to me on the bed I grabbed the clear plastic box with the blue lid - my state souvenirs box. I always wanted to buy the shot glasses, but my mom would never let me. Instead, it was filled with keychains shaped like Louisiana and California, pins of Florida and Texas, tiny spoons with crests for Arizona and Kansas, and so many postcards. I had always overcompensated with postcards since I'd be disallowed the shot glasses. I shook it around a few times letting other states filter to the top admiring them as my phone started buzzing incessantly behind me. I ignored it.
Next was a wooden jewelry box my mother kept on her nightstand, pine with an overlay of beautifully carved gossamer webs and four little brass balls as the feet. I carefully pulled it out, knowing when I opened it there would be blue velvet inside. She had never let me play with it, saying it was a family heirloom. But now I could see why, the box itself was so delicate and inside were diamond stud earrings, her turquoise hair clip, silver bracelets inset with rubies and emeralds. Each of these had significant meaning and importance in her life, unlike all the equally expensive jewelry I let Anya wear around the house like they were plastic. All of mine had been gifts from the Circle, somehow making them seem even less valuable to me, but now I'd never know the story behind each one of these. I'd never seen her wear the earrings before, was it because they'd been from my father? My phone buzzed again and my mind shot me back down to the basement, blood soaking through his shirt...I placed the box carefully on the bed and then twisted the cap off the vodka and took a swig. It burned all the way down, but it had done the trick - it had distracted me enough to look at the texts.
DO.
NOT.
TOUCH.
JACK.
At first, I was completely confused and then worried that I'd somehow made Elodie jealous, though I had no idea how. Her threat was on the same chain Jack had been debriefing us all on. But as I scrolled up the next one made me slump.
Look at this fucking mess you made.
It was followed by screenshot after screenshot of tabloid webpages. All of them showing Jack and I laughing at the Christmas pageant, my hand on his arm. Each one some variation of this being proof I was cheating on Stellan.
How many fucking times do I need to say this?!
My fingers were flying before the thought even finished in my brain,
And yet you HAD to have Stellan help you today!
Maybe my Russian would have been good enough after all.
I tossed my phone upside down on the bed, opting to take a slug of vodka instead of deal with Elodie. I'd have to hear it all again anyway - once in French while she berated Stellan about it and then again in English while she scathingly went over it all beat by beat to try and drill the importance of my error into me. Not today. This box was all I had the capacity left to deal with today. The vodka started to warm my limbs, this tingling sensation that made the frustration over it all ebb from my veins with each woozy pulse. I turned my attention back to the box.
Rubber-banded together were two neat stacks of unopened letters, and as I pulled them out my hands started to shake again. Pen pal letters. One stack was clearly the one's I'd written, the other stack were from a variety of states and friends as I flicked through them quickly. It stung, despite Jack's insight. I placed them on the bed as well and reached down to grab the last thing out of the box - a safe. It was small enough to fit inside a bedside table drawer, more of a rectangle than a square, and relatively thin. It bounced as it landed on the bed and I peeked into the box to see if I'd left anything. There was a single manila envelope. I left it and turned my attention to the safe.
The lock had been broken on it, I guess I shouldn't have been surprised by that. I wondered if I could trust all the different law enforcement agencies that had pilfered through it. Or worse Circle members. Then again I hadn't even thought to ask for these items so whatever was left was more than amazing. Opening the lid I was incredibly surprised by the first few items: a small pewter pill case that had a lock of my super dark baby hair, what was left of my baby blanket in a ziplock bag, Mother's Day cards, carefully folded artwork of my painted hands, letters to Santa, coupon books I'd given her for her birthday. I didn't know she'd been keeping all these things. The tears welled in my eyes and I quickly wiped them so they wouldn't plunk onto all these mementos. I gently removed them, setting them next to the box and pulled out some paperwork next: my birth certificate from Boston, my social security card, my immunization records, a passport from when I was about eight years old.
I set all those aside and grew concerned as my eyes surveyed what I had become all too familiar with since Ibiza - ID cards with different names, birth certificates and social security cards with the same fake name, and another set, and another. I was an Anna, Alicia, Alexa. The names felt unfamiliar as they came out of my mouth. My eyes drifted to the stack beneath them, a matching set for my mother.
There were more, but I couldn't look anymore. Instead, I pulled out the manila envelope, tossing the now-empty box onto the floor. There was nothing written on the front, it didn't even look thick enough for anything to be inside, but I knew there had to be. As I held it in my hands I knew it was the same kind of envelope I'd come to fear my whole life. The kind that meant we were moving, the ones my mother always set fire to after she read them. But this one hadn't met the same ashy end. I pulled back the metal clasps and opened it, shaking out a single business card. I gasped as it fluttered to the bed. On one side, filling the face of the card, in big, black, block letters was Alexander the Great Hotel. My shaking hand reached forward and I flipped it over with a single finger to see a line of foreign language and coordinates on the back. I dove for my phone, cursing the flood of unread texts trying to distract me as I searched the random letters and numbers. Holding my breath I watched as the first result popped up, a map with a single pin pointing to - Loreto, Baja California Sur, Mexico.
No. No, no, no. Even Mexico? Even our "someday" had been some kind of lie? I threw the phone hearing the glass crack as it hit the wall. The contingency plan for when things got too dangerous in America? She'd been grooming the idea my whole childhood? I glared at the card knowing, with all my heart, that I knew exactly what else it said. I didn't know if I could do it. This day, this month, this year...it had all been too much. I took another hit off the bottle and it sloshed all over my shirt as it thumped back onto the bed, between my folded legs.
Did I even know her at all? Was the person that made me breakfast and packed my lunch real? Or was that an act too? Which life was the lie? The one that was raising me or the one that was running? The anger rose up through all the vodka making hot, fat tears pour down my face. How bad could it have possibly been for me to know? How different could our lives have been if I'd understood the amount of fucking danger I was in? Maybe she'd be alive? Maybe I would have been prepared for Alistar and Cole and Lydia? But none of it mattered in the end. All these lies, all this scheming, all the moves, and the heartbreak and the loneliness was for what? To live in this stupid fucking house? To be tricked into marrying Stellan? To have her murdered by my brother? To kill my sister? To watch my father's brains smear down a wall? I thought I'd lost everything because my eyes were fucking purple, but I lost everything because my mother thought I couldn't handle the truth.
My phone started buzzing loudly on the floor. I got up only intending to silence the incessant noise and through my bleary vision and now badly cracked screen I dismissed Elodie's continuing barrage of screenshots and Jack and Stellan's back and forth in code. Instead, I sat back on the bed and plugged in the words, sending them through the translator app on my phone. I'd started using it because Stellan kept writing all his shorthand in French and I didn't want to be left behind. The translation popped up almost immediately - Greek. I should have known.
Bishop at school. Leave immediately.
I squeezed the phone in my fist and then hurled it as hard as I could. It smashed into the giant TV screen with a loud crack, glass falling to the carpet as my sobs made me take these horrible sucking breaths of air. I curled up onto my side, the vodka tipping over with me, my head landing on all the unopened letters.
"What the…" someone exclaimed and I forced my burning eyes open to see an absolutely awestruck Stellan. His eyes were combing over everything on the bed, the box, the destroyed TV, the nearly empty bottle of vodka and then me as he froze in the doorframe. I forced myself to sit back up, righting the bottle and trying to wipe some of the booze off of my shirt. His worried eyes went wider at this motion.
He was here. Here when he shouldn't be. Nothing could stop him from finding me. Especially when I needed him the most.
"Stellan," I sobbed, "please."
"Anything," he immediately replied.
"I have to get out of here."