"What happened?"

I tried focussing on Holly's compassionate eyes. Her eyebrows were crinkled together in obvious worry. Somehow we had made it back to my flat, her and I. I have no idea how. I simply found myself sitting in the kitchen with a glass of water in front of me.

"I – I'm so sorry," I started. "It's – I'm not entirely sure. I just zoned out."

She raised an eyebrow at me. Had the roles been reversed, I would not have bought such a lame excuse, but she didn't press.

Honestly, I didn't know what to say. I was completely torn. I was still holding the book; its quality cover was hard, and I let the corner dig into my hand. I felt dirty for not confessing to her that I highly suspected that my family was involved in this circus, but I couldn't make myself do it.

I loved my family. They were good people – weren't they?

How deep did this go?

There had to be an explanation for this. There had to –

"Quill!"

I forced myself to focus on Holly again. She was snapping her fingers in front of my face.

"Are you sure you're alright?"

I nodded quickly.

"Sure? You keep disappearing into your head. Is it about Lucy?"

"What?" I snapped my head up to look better at her, suddenly far more alert.

She gave me a knowing smile.

"It's okay, Quill. I imagine it can't be easy."

I cleared my throat and was just about to contradict her, when I realised that this might be the best way to get her to let it go. Just not denying her assumptions. That made me feel even more dirty and I hated it.

"I called George," she informed me. "He said that Lockwood and Lucy called him from a payphone. They found shelter with Flo Bones for the night."

I made a face. "Why don't they just say they're sleeping under a bridge?"

Holly snorted and shook her head.

"My point is that we're all accounted for. We're all safe."

I nodded. "I fixed my guest bedroom back up if you want to stay?" I offered.

"No. I need to get home. Or else I'll get a stern talking to." She looked at her feet, but I caught the fond smile on her face.

I pursed my lips. "We wouldn't want that now. But can you call me when you get home then? I bet the streets aren't particularly safe tonight."

"Of course, I will." She gave my arm a squeeze.

"And take this," I gave her the book with the traitorous starling. "It's more natural that you bring it. I'll stay away from Portland Row for a few days."

She smirked. "I'll make sure to tell Lucy that."

I rolled my eyes. "I believe you were going, Miss Munro,"

She chuckled with a headshake but made her way out.

I didn't sleep a wink that night.

"I – what is that?"

My dad looked over my shoulder. I had gone straight to the headquarters but before I could reach my mum's office, he pulled me into his own.

"I believe it's supposed to be an apple."

"It looks like a vagina." I stated bluntly.

My dad lifted an eyebrow at me as he sat back down at his desk. "Have a lot of experience with those, have you?"

I felt blood rushing to my cheeks. "That is – That's not the point!"

He snorted as I threw myself into one of the chairs in front of him.

I rubbed my face hard and looked at him. His gentle face, his hair in the same obnoxious shade of dark orange as mine. His light brown suit and his glasses.

It was hard to imagine the soft man that was my father, being involved in any sort of nefarious scheme. But I suppose that there was a chance that he wasn't. If I was right, some of the books in that library were printed before he had even started working for the company. Hell, some of them had probably been printed before my mum was even born.

"Are you alright, Quill?" he asked with that kind smile of his

"Yeah. I just have some things I need to talk to mum about."

"I won't keep you any longer then. I'll note your… opinion about the artwork when I talk to the graphic designer."

I gave him a small smile and stepped back into the hall.

It wasn't many steps before I stood in front of the door to my mum's office.

I couldn't decide whether to storm in there in righteous fury or run away and pretend that this wasn't happening.

I compromised with a soft knock.

As soon as my knuckles made a sound against the wood, I regretted the action and seriously contemplated taking off, but before I knew it, she was standing in the door opening, smiling widely.

"Quill, darling! I didn't know you were coming in today."

She put her arms around me in a tight hug that felt like all the other hugs she had given me through all my life.

But how could it feel the same when everything was different?

At least it was to me.

I stepped around her and she closed the door behind me.

"It wasn't something I'd planned," I mumbled.

"Well, it's lovely to see you. It's been a while since you've been home for dinner too," she pointed out and returned to the papers she had been filing.

"Mum, can I trust you?" I looked at her, scrutinising her. I hated how small my voice sounded.

She gave a soft chuckle and turned towards me. "That's a silly question darling. Of course, you can."

I took a deep calming breath and gave her a hard look. "I don't think it's silly. In fact, I don't think there are many things I have been this serious about in my life."

She cocked her head and gave me a small, bemused smile. "What's brought this on?"

I hesitated.

Would she throw her own son under the bus?

"I –" I took another deep breath. "I broke into a building last night. A very specific building. I was almost caught, but in spite of it being a rather exclusive place, nothing was reported as far as I'm oriented. I have a feeling that even if nothing was official, you know exactly which building I was talking about."

Her eyes widened and I knew I'd hit the jackpot.

"In that building was a library, which naturally was full of books." I giggled a bit hysterically and my mum looked at me in concern. "All these books were freaky, and no respectable place would ever print that shit, but evidently, our family company isn't all that respectable, is it?" I asked rhetorically.

She looked at me with worry. "Quill, I –"

"DO YOU KNOW WHAT THEY'RE DOING?!" I thundered and she startled.

She put a hand over her heart. "Quill, I'm sorry, I –"

"Please tell me you're not a part of it, mum," I begged brokenly. "Please."

She sighed in defeat and slowly walked over to lock the door. Then sat down on the small sofa she had in her office, back straight, ankles crossed and her hands in her lap. Prim and proper.

Tears had started falling and she looked at the window without really seeing it.

"I don't know what they're doing," she said in a small voice. "I don't think I want to know."

She sat still, not doing anything to stop the tears from falling and making small dark circles on her skirt.

"It was your grandfather who started it. He was one of the founding members. The Orpheus Society." She said the name mockingly.

"If he was the one to start it, they why are you continuing it?" I ground out.

She made a small broken chuckle, still just staring at that stupid window. "You're still so young, Quill. You still see everything in black and white," she whispered.

"Why, mum?"

She rubbed her face and stood. "I'm not drunk enough for this conversation," she grumbled.

I scoffed. "It's not even noon," I pointed out with an eyeroll.

"That doesn't change my need for alcohol for this."

She opened a drawer in her desk, taking out two tumblers and a bottle of whiskey. She poured a rather generous amount in each glass. She gave me one and sat back down on the sofa with her own.

She took a large gulp not even wincing.

She cleared her throat and gestured at the armchair in front of her.

I sat down and looked at her warily.

She made a deep sigh and took another mouthful whiskey. "You know the history of this company," she said rhetorically and gestured around us. "It's been in the family for a century and a half. You're a Starling too, even if I took your father's last name. I took over when my father died. You were thirteen then."

She fidgeted a bit with her glass, but I didn't say anything.

"You loved your grandfather." She chuckled bitterly. "I believe you were around five when I first noticed some… strange transactions going on and some publications going missing. Orders that were made and then lost. He brushed me off at the time, but I slowly found out more and more irregularities. He got angry whenever I tried to confront him. He kept telling me that he would let me know when it was time."

She took another steeling breath and another sip of whiskey. "He was a personal friend of Marissa Fittes, you know."

I snorted. "I remember. I thought it was so cool." I made a face, not liking the reminder of my former hero worship.

"He pushed so hard for you to be an agent you know. It was another frequent argument of ours. I hated it. I always thought it was too risky, but you were completely fixated by the idea and he fuelled that interest relentlessly."

"What does me being an agent have to do with any of it?" I asked with a nose wrinkle.

She smiled softly at me. "I'll get back to that, darling."

I wanted to protest against her calling me darling, but I couldn't make myself do it.

"Not long after you started at Fittes, he came to me, finally ready to talk. He told me about the Orpheus Societies and their… endeavours," she shuddered. "He told me about their goals and about the sacrifices they were willing to make in order to achieve them."

I studied her as she spoke. She was looking back at the window, seemingly lost in the memory, but snapped back again.

"Needless to say, I didn't agree with their ideology. They disgust me," she sneered.

"Then why the hell are you working for them?" I demanded.

She gave me a sad smile. "Because I didn't have a choice."

"Why the hell not?"

"Because by then, Fittes had their claws in you. Every small hesitation would result in a more deadly case for you. Every order came with a reminder that agents often have accidents."

I paused to think about my career. All my defeats, all the agents, colleagues, team-mates I'd lost. That in turn made me think of all the wins. All the success I'd had. My promotions. My skill. Was all that just a lie as well? Had I actually ever achieved anything on my own or was I really just riding the coattails of my late grandfather? Was it all orchestrated?

"So, I was just a pawn all along?" I couldn't help but ask.

"No, darling, of course not," she rushed to say. She moved to put her hand on mine but withdrew. "You're a great agent, Quill. I have no doubt about that. But I couldn't risk it. I couldn't risk losing you, I simply couldn't bear it," she choked out and broke into a sob.

I moved over to sit beside her and hesitantly put my arms around her.

I hugged her tight for several minutes before she drew back. She sniffled a bit, composing herself.

"Now everything is different." She emptied her glass and went to fill it back up at her desk, leaning against it.

"Because I'm out of Fittes. You can stop now,"

She huffed a small humourless laugh. "Far from it. With the power Penelope Fittes has now, she could easily take over our entire company. We're lucky she's only been knocking on the doors of other agencies, but I have no doubt she'll expand to other businesses soon enough. We still have some power in our community but given the power that woman has at her disposal whatever friends we might have in power will fall in line."

I bit my lip. "What do you know about Penelope Fittes?"

She looked at me sideways and I realised that maybe she didn't quite trust me either.

"I know that things aren't what they seem," she started slowly. "I know that she is… unhinged. That she endangers this country and I know that she is the source of the problems she claims to fix."

I took a big gulp of my drink, making a decision that should probably have been discussed with the rest.

"We're investigating her. We're planning on exposing her and what we've found so far is… disturbing to say the least." I felt myself shudder.

"When you say we –"

"Tony and his team. And myself."

She nodded slowly, seemingly coming to a decision of her own.

"In that case, I have something for you. It'll help, but it won't be enough. Exposing her won't be enough. You need to be prepared to fight."

"We're always prepared to fight."

She looked at me with a pained expression. "You shouldn't have to, darling."

"I can't not fight. I can't leave them."

She chuckled. "You can't leave her you mean."

I felt my cheeks heating. "I can't leave any of them," I denied, surprised at how true the statement was. "I can't leave Tony either, especially. We just got him back," I pointed out in a small voice.

My mum took a deep breath. "I know. I won't try to convince you. You'll need this though."

She stood and leaned down to let her fingers glide across the carved filigree of her desk. It was an old one – probably as old as the company. She put a finger on a carved-out flower and pressed it inwards.

There was a small screeching sound of wood on wood, and I watched in wonder as a small hidden drawer slid out from underneath the desk.

The drawer only contained one thing. It was a small book which she offered to me with shaking hands.

'Ghost Lore among the Tribes of New Guinea and West Sumatra'

She swallowed hard as I took it. "Please tell Anthony that I'm sorry. I'm so, so sorry. I know what they did. When I threatened to expose them, Penelope made it clear that your life would be forfeit if I did. The next day – the next day they sent you into that convent alone –"

She cut herself off with a choked sob.

I remember the case. I was so young and so naïve. I had been so proud that they sent me in alone to deal with a Spectre. I got it, but I almost died that night. Had to stay in hospital for three days with severe ghost-touch.

"I – but it was an accident. Donald and Celia died in a car accident." I argued.

She shook her head with closed eyes. "You should read it, darling. Then you'll understand. Please give it to Anthony though. He deserves to have it."

I stared dumbly at the book. The noise from the drawer stole my attention though as the action of my mum closing it stirred an old memory. An incredibly old memory of another old desk.

I blinked several times and jumped from my seat. "I – mum, I need to go,"

I was halfway to the door when she caught me in a hug from behind.

"I'll help you in whatever way I can," she promised.

I turned around in her embrace. "You need to speak to William. We'll bring down Penelope Fittes, but if we're connected, the company might suffer from the repercussions too. It'll be smart to prepare a good defence."

She nodded slowly. "At this point, I honestly couldn't give a shit about the company. I want that woman dead," she sneered.

I smirked and kissed her cheek. "I'll do my best," I assured her before I bolted out the door.

I ran out of the office, barely registering other pedestrians or cars as I crossed the road.

I ran, not caring about how my lungs were burning, how my legs were screaming or about the stitch in my side.

I reached 35 Portland Row, sprinted up the uneven tiles and franticly knocked on the door.

Tony opened and I pushed past him, ignoring his protest. I vaguely registered the slam as he shut the door and locked it, already on my way through the small door in the kitchen that opened to a spiral staircase, leading the way down to the basement.

I almost knocked into Tony's desk in my hurry. The desk that used to belong to his father.

I let my fingers run over the carved wood, looking for indents, pressing and pulling different flowers or pieces of filigree.

"What the hell are you doing?" I heard Tony's incredulous voice cut through my focus.

"Looking," I grunted, not completely able to explain. My mind was too busy racing and reeling from the revelations I had just gone through.

My breathing hitched when one of the pieces of filigree moved under my fingers. I held my breath as I pulled it out, remembering how Jessica showed me how to do it many years ago. I hadn't been more than six and back then, all that the drawer had hidden was chocolate.

Now, however, the secret it kept had been far more important.

'Last Will and Testament of Celia Lockwood and Donald Lockwood'

I looked up at Tony who stood, staring at the contents of the drawer with a look of disbelief.

His eyes weren't frozen on the official document but rather the smaller envelope on top of it which simply said; 'To Anthony'.

I could recognise that handwriting anywhere. The swirl of the 'y' and the end and the small curl on the 't's.

It was a letter from Jessica.