Five - Neriah

Aysher and Silos trying to burst in through my door is what wakes me. Aysher whines pitifully at the gap at the bottom, sticking his nose right up against it in an attempt to sniff me out, whilst Silos scrambles frantically at the handle. One of these days he's going to figure out how to open doors, and then I'm really going to be in trouble.

"Okay! I'm coming!" I sigh, exasperated. "They really don't like being shut outside."

"I don't think they would have liked being in here last night," Matt replies, and I can hear his smile in his voice. He huffs and wraps his arms around my waist from behind, pulling me in a little closer and planting a kiss on the back of my head.

I giggle and snuggle further backwards, closer to Matt. Since I became immortal, I don't strictly need to sleep, but it's nice to do and a solid night was exactly what we needed. Wrapped in Matt's arms, curled up under my cosy duvet, the thought of going back to sleep is incredibly tempting. I'm almost about to drift off again when there's a heavy slam against the door, the unmistakable sound of Silos's impatient body jumping up against the wooden door.

"Silos!" I exclaim, hopefully loud enough for my voice to carry out into the hallway. "Get! Down!"

Silos whines in response and I shuffle around in the bed to face Matt. His eyes are still closed but he's frowning again, clearly bothered by his interrupted sleep. Even with being woken up by impatient dogs trying to break into my bedroom, he looks a lot better than he did yesterday. His hair is an adorable wreck, stuck up at odd angles like he's stuck his finger in a plug socket, and his skin has a bit more of a healthy glow to it.

"They're not going to stop until I let them in," I warn him.

"Fine," Matt sighs. "But if Aysher jumps straight onto my stomach again..."

"He won't. And he feels very bad about nearly making you throw up."

Matt opens one eye to look at me, and I give him my sweetest smile to try and make up for my needy pets. He can't keep his grumpy expression up for too long, and soon he's smiling back at me. I kiss him softly and he pulls me in even closer, so our bodies are pressed right up against each other and our legs are tangled up together.

"We could just stay in bed together a little while longer," he whispers, sending a pleasant tingle down my body.

Almost as if in response to Matt's scandalous suggestion, Aysher drags his snout along the bedroom door again and whines loudly, making us both giggle. Reluctantly we untangle ourselves and I wriggle out from the warmth to go hunting for my hastily discarded clothes from last night.

I stand in the middle of the room, spinning on the spot. I find Matt's jeans first, his underwear still inside and scrunched up together at the bottom of the bed, so I lay them over his knees. My top is draped across the chair in the corner, and my jeans are rolled up near the door along with my underwear. I throw yesterday's clothes in the hamper and pull out a new top and underwear from my chest of drawers. I spin again, but my bra is nowhere to be found.

"Matt?"

"Hmm?"

"Where's my bra?"

"Huh?"

"My bra? The thing with the triangles that I put over my breasts? What did you do with it? I didn't see where you put it."

Matt pushes himself upright, resting back on his forearms and looks bleary-eyed around the room. Immortals may have perfect memories, but we are most definitely not immune to morning brain-fog. Matt starts leaning over my side of the bed and stares confusedly at the blanket we laid out the night before for comfort (my bed creaks and I didn't exactly want to advertise to my mom what we were doing). With one hand he starts comically miming the action of taking off a bra and then tossing it off to the side, then he swings his arm down and starts fishing around under my bed.

"Got it!" he announces triumphantly, pulling it out with a flourish and handing it to me. I take it gratefully and finish getting ready.

Now fully dressed, I open the door for Aysher and Silos, who come bounding in with gusto. Their thoughts are full of unmitigated joy and mischief as they hop straight onto the bed and lick Matt's face by way of greeting. Matt groans and tries to pull the duvet over his head for protection, but the dogs are way too clever for that and promptly turn themselves into ferrets to try to burrow their way to him.

"No!" I scold them both gently, scooping one up in each hand. "Leave Matt alone! You know he doesn't like you licking his face!"

I set them both back down on the floor and the two of them obediently turn back into dogs, nuzzling my legs apologetically. Aysher and Silos are obviously different to regular dogs, and truth be told I'm not entirely sure what they really are. They were given to me when I was around two years old, and they haven't shown any signs of aging or slowing down ever since. In the fifteen years that I've had them, they've been my loyal companions and, when needed, my fiercest protectors. On days like today though, they seem to be content to behave like regular attention-seeking shapeshifting dogs - still struggling to accept the fact that Matt and I might occasionally want some time alone without them in the room.

Downstairs, I can hear Mom banging about in the kitchen with pots and pans - never a good sign. Ever since we moved back into the house, Mom has been trying to be more independent and reclaim the life she led before, but she's horribly rusty with cooking and other household chores. For years we had household staff who also doubled as elite bodyguards, some Guard members, some just amazingly well-trained mortals, in a bid to keep me and my mom safe from my tyrannical father, an evil monster named Marduke. Now that he's dead, or at least, a really hideous statue, mom has let most of the staff go or reduced their hours, which is just as dangerous when she routinely starts pan fires like a pyromaniac video-game character.

"I'm just going to go check on my mom."

"That's probably for the best," Matt agress. "I'm already getting messages from Lord Penbarin. Apparently he's been trying to contact us. I'll see what he wants and get dressed, then I'll be down."

I head downstairs with Aysher and Silos bounding around my feet, both delighted to see me again. I give them both quick scratches behind the ears and they pull out ahead of me to go and greet my mom in the kitchen.

"Hello you two!" Mom's voice rings out. "Did you manage to drag my daughter out of bed at last?"

"They did," I confirm, walking into the kitchen.

Mom is stood over the stove, frying pan in hand. Her hair is scraped back and she's covered from head to toe in flour, with a pink floral apron wrapped around her. The kitchen island behind her is an explosion of eggshells, bags of flour, baking powder and sugar, which Aysher is eagerly licking at. I gently push him down and he turns his attention to a few rogue blueberries that have fallen on the floor.

"Look!" Mom exclaims, holding the pan dangerously close to my bare arm. "Pancakes!"

"Looks great, Mom. But what's that?" I ask, pointing to the kitchen counter and the small mountain of a blueberry-studded blancmange-like substance wobbling on one of our dinner plates.

"Attempt number one."

"Did you put the whole mix in?"
"Well, it poured faster than I was expecting it to, and then it ballooned up and…" Mom trails off and stares sadly at the blueberry blancmange. She looks lost in thought, then suddenly starts to sniff the air. "Do you smell smoke?"

"Attempt number two!" I gasp, grabbing the frying pan and yanking it off the hob.

"Oh shoot! That one looked good as well!"

"Well, at least you didn't pour all of the batter in this time."

I grab a spatula and begin scraping the charred pancake remains into the trash whilst Mom starts whisking up some more batter. Aysher and Silos dance around her feet hoping for more spillages, and I turn the hob down to a lower temperature in a bid to save any future pancake casualties. At some point whilst we cook Mom turns on the radio, filling the empty kitchen with music. It's chart music so I don't recognise the song, which is quite normal for me after years of only hearing my mom's music of choice (80s pop from when she was my age), but it's got a good beat and I tap my foot in time with it.

"Where's Matt?" Mom asks, leaning over me to pour more batter in the pan.

"I don't really know," I reply with a frown. "He had a couple of messages this morning, but he should be finished by now."

"Well… at least that gives me an opportunity to talk to you."

"What? You can talk to me in front of Matt."

"It's sort of… about Matt," Mom says. I glance over at her and see she's standing awkwardly by my side, twisting the rings on her fingers nervously.

I turn the hob off and turn to face her, abandoning all thoughts of pancakes.

"Is everything ok, Mom?"

"Yeah, honey, it's fine. This is just awkward…"

"What's up?"

"I really like Matt. He seems like a good kid, and he's clearly smitten with you… But…"

"But?"

"Oh, honey, you and Matt aren't as quiet as you think you are."

I feel the colour drain from my face as mortification creeps through me. The idea of my mom overhearing me and Matt having sex makes me cringe more than I thought it was possible for a human being to cringe. I've never understood people saying that they wanted the ground to swallow them whole until now.

"I'm not angry!" Mom says, splaying her hands out in front of herself. "Is it weird I'm almost a little relieved?"

"Relieved?" I balk. "Mom! Yes! That's incredibly weird!"

"I didn't mean that how it came out! I just meant that - oh, Christ, Neriah I was really worried that I'd messed you up for life. But sneaking around with a boyfriend? I used to do that, lots of teenagers do that - it's normal. I'm trying to say that I'm relieved you finally have some normality in your life. You deserve it."

My stomach untwists a little. At least Mom isn't mad. As worried as she was about moving here and me finally going to a real school with other people my own age, I was feeling twice as anxious. None of the other kids were taught by an American ex-Navy SEAL who happened to have a Masters in Child Education. None of the other kids took mandatory self-defence classes in the evening. None of the other kids lived in constant fear of their 1000 year old fathers coming to take them away and kill their mothers. All things considered, I'm incredibly lucky to have good friends who understand every aspect of how weird my life has been up until now, and how weird it's probably going to be for the rest of it. I'm even luckier to have a boyfriend who loves me so completely and in some aspects manages to out-weird me so much that I get to feel like the normal one sometimes. Matt has been running on fumes recently, but he still finds the time to make me feel special in a good way.

"All I'm asking is for you to maybe try and wait until I'm out of the house," Mom continues.

"You're never out of the house, though."

"Or maybe keep it down a little more."

"I'm sorry," I say, staring down at my feet. Heat rushes to my face.

"That's ok. I have earbuds," Mom laughs. She scoops up the jug of batter and wiggles it in the air, motioning that we should get back to cooking.

I turn and put the hob back on, fixing my attention back to the pancakes. I'm not much better at house things than my mom, but at least I don't share the same propensity for setting the kitchen alight. We work closely together, a team who are five times more focused than a normal parent and child would have to be. Finally, we have three plates with small stacks of fluffy misshapen pancakes ready to go. I quickly cook two more with the leftover batter and put one each in Aysher and Silos's bowls, which they attack with gusto.

As if on queue, Matt appears at the kitchen door. I'm about to beckon him over when I catch sight of his tear-stained face.

"Matt? What's wrong?"

"Matt, honey?" Mom crosses the room, and puts her arm around Matt, who barely reacts. "Do you want to sit down?"

Matt nods numbly and slides into a nearby dining chair. "Isabel has had a vision." His voice sounds hollow, worse than I've ever heard it before.

Mom flicks a look at me over Matt's shoulder. She knows way more about the Guard than most ordinary people - a necessity borne out of the threat to our lives brought on by my father. We try to keep her as in the dark as possible, but when I lived for a while with the Beckets she was briefed on all of the Guard members in the house, including their various abilities and how they could help keep me safe. She knows all about Isabel's visions of the future.

"What did she see?" I ask.

"Lord Penbarin has asked that we go to Athens for a full briefing but… she saw herself. She watched herself die."

I suddenly find myself needing a seat of my own. This is all too much. We just lost Rochelle, and now Isabel's life is in danger? How is this fair?

"She… I mean… Not all of Isabel's visions come true, right?"

Matt runs a hand through his hair and stares up at the ceiling. "Yeah. Yeah, they don't always come true. You're right."

I take one of his hands in mine. "Isabel is the most savvy person I think I've ever met, Matt. She isn't going to put herself in danger."

Isabel was the first friend I made when I moved to Angel Falls. She's been a member of the Guard for over two years, and judging from the records the Guard keeps on her, she's already surpassing in ability and success rate other members who've been with us five times as long. What she lacks in physical powers she makes up for with being the best at anything she sets her mind to. She doesn't need super-strength or telekinesis to throw a man over her shoulder when she can just do it anyway with one of her multiple black-belts. I already know that she's going to be ok because she's far too stubborn to allow anything bad to happen to her without her say-so.

Despite her amazing skills, Matt is still incredibly protective of his little sister. He's only really spoken to me about it once, giving me the terrible facts like he was reading from a textbook, but I know Isabel's father used to beat him and his mom. Isabel was the only one ever spared from the abuse, and Matt has made it his life's mission to ensure that she always remains safe - a difficult task when we all fought together in a war for control of this realm. He still has difficulty grasping the concept of Isabel being fully independent.

"I need to go to Athens," Matt says, staring up at the ceiling. "I need to know what she saw, and I need to put together a plan of action."

"I'm coming with you," I say, standing back up. "If I use my brush we can get to Athens quicker." It's not an ideal plan, but it's the only one we really have at the moment. For my initiation King Richard gave me a paintbrush that would help me to open up portals to other worlds, and I can use it to open portals to other times as well. I still struggle with my ability - the portals have a nasty habit of snapping shut in a move that would rip apart ordinary mortals - but they're more stable for my personal use and inanimate objects. I wouldn't suggest sending any other living beings through, though.

"You should both eat something before you go," Mom tries, but I'm already shaking my head.

"We can be back in the blink of an eye, and I don't think either of us could stand to eat until we know what's happening."

Mom doesn't look too happy with my reply, but she understands. She's been really understanding these past few weeks of the fact that Matt and I now have a ton of new responsibilities - she just doesn't quite know the true extent of them. I think she would have a heart attack if she found out that I'm now one of the leaders of the Guard. Mom sighs and grabs one of the plates of pancakes, motioning for us to go.

I give her a small smile as Matt and I head back upstairs, and she gives me a small wave. I order Aysher and Silos to stay with her to keep her company, but I still feel guilty. Lately it feels like I'm always dashing off somewhere, and Mom only just got back into Angel Falls after retreating back to the island I grew up on. I wish I had more time to spend with her. She doesn't say anything, but I know she gets lonely.

When we're back in my room I immediately grab my special paintbrush from my bedside table. Matt sits down on my bed and puts his shoes on. He hasn't said a thing since his decision to go to Athens, and I'm worried about him. We have an unspoken rule to try and not talk about Guard stuff when we get a few moments alone together, otherwise it would consume our entire lives - it very nearly is already. I wonder if this comes under the category of 'business' or 'personal'.

"Matt?" I ask tentatively.

"I'll be ok, Neriah. Really," he replies, eyes still firmly on his feet. "You're right. Isabel can fight her way out of anything."

"Exactly."

Privately, I don't feel very secure in Matt's mental state. He's been working almost non-stop, determined to shoulder everything himself, since the final battle. We've been trying to uncertainly find our feet in our relationship this whole time as well, which is how we came to compartmentalise everything else in our alone time. The times when it's just me and him are the only times I think he is truly and completely happy. When we're around other people it feels as though the whole world is resting on Matt's tired shoulders. He still suffers from the same insecurities that he always did before taking over the Guard, and now he feels it reinforced to some degree. I think that he expected to step straight into Lorian's shoes with no problem, but Lorian was head of the Guard for thousands of years. Even he must have had problems and missteps in the beginning, but it was so long ago that people don't remember them anymore - a luxury that Matt doesn't have. If we fail to save Isabel, that would be the ultimate failure. It would destroy Matt. I'm scared that he's finally going to crack.

I try to shrug off my morbid thoughts and focus on opening a portal to Athens. Starting at the floor, I draw a wide arc in the air with my paintbrush, focusing intensely on our desired time and destination. I fill my thoughts with a golden courtyard. I imagine sunlight dancing through the leaves of a fig tree that stands in the centre, proud and strong. Noon on a peaceful spring day. 461 BC.

It takes a few tries. Some of my portals fail completely, others snap shut as quick as they open. Finally, a doorway to another time appears in a ripple of light, shining softly out at us. Matt steps through first, then turns and holds his hand out to me. I take it and step forward, leaving my bedroom behind and stepping forward into the Guard's headquarters in Ancient Greece.

The heat hits me first, and I'm glad that temperatures no longer really phase me, because any mortal caught in Greece on the cusp of summer would not fare well in jeans. The sun shines high above us, reflecting off of the stark white painted walls and dazzling me. Baby pink flowers push their way up towards the sun to greet us and sway gently in the breeze. I love it here.

Matt doesn't take the same pleasure in our surroundings as I do, and immediately sends a telepathic, and curt, message out to the Tribunal members. Main chamber. We need a briefing. Now.

I reach out and take his hand, pulling it to my lips. He gives me a very tired-looking smile in response and my heart breaks for him. We walk to the main chamber together in silence. We could use our wings, but I suspect Matt is trying to give the other Tribunal members time to arrive.

When we push open the chamber doors only Elenna is still absent, with the other Tribunal members already seated in their usual places. Matt gives my hand a quick squeeze before heading up the stone steps to his seat, the one that used to belong to Lorian. I ascend the seat to his right, formerly belonging to Lady Devine.

I barely knew Lady Devine, but I wish I did. When I first took over the seat, I had the morbid duty of sorting through Lady Devine's personal items that she left there. I found numerous strands of long, blood red hair tucked away between soft pillows which she had put on the stone seat for extra comfort, funny doodles on the corners of important scrolls in a tasteful emerald ink, and a surprising amount of snacks in small boxes. I used to be so in awe of the Tribunal members, but it's much better to know them as the interesting and complex people that they really are. By all accounts, Lady Devine was scandalously funny when she spoke, but also quite shy. I think we would have gotten along.

The House of Divinity will most likely not be mine to take over - I've never even set foot in Lady Devine's former territory, and regardless I have a lot of training to get through before I'm prepared for the responsibility of my own House. King Richard has been the greatest help, having only just taken charge of the House of Veridian himself. Most likely I will be taking up the mantle of head of the House of Kavanah, Meridian's old house, as I used to live right in the heart of his territories.

The Guard's houses are divided up largely by lands of ancient kingdoms, and the names given to them by the Atlanteans who arrived in this realm when humanity barely stood erect. The oldest that I know of are usually the ones named directly after their Tribunal members, save for Lady Arabella's and Elenna's simply named houses of 'Sky and Water' and 'Isle'. I'm not the first to take over an orphaned house though, so at least there are some Tribunal members who have helped me in that respect - Queen Brystianne herself helped me to go through Lady Devine's effects, having done it before when taking over the late King Averil's post.

As I take my seat on the cool marble throne, Elenna appears almost directly opposite me, smiling apologetically.

"Please forgive my lateness," she says, smoothing out her flyaway brown hair. "There was a small crisis I had to attend to with a demon attack in Dublin. We have had to dispatch Lucy Bushell there immediately."

"Has the demon been neutralised?" Matt asks.

Elenna nods. "Yes, my Lord. It should never have gotten so close to such a populated area. Miss Bushell has a lot of work to do to wipe the memories of so many mortals."

"Good. Urm, I mean, good that it's been neutralised, not good that Miss Bushell needs to work so hard."

I catch Matt's eye as he begins to look a little flustered, shooting him a reassuring smile.

"Of course, my lord," Elenna replies with a nod. Her expression is unreadable, her thoughts closely guarded.

"I wish to offer my own apologies for the lack of contact from myself and Lady Neriah," Matt adds. "I understand there has been an… incident."

"Yes, my lord." It's Penbarin who answers him, whilst exchanging a quick glance with Queen Brystianne who gives him a barely perceptible nod. "As I said to you earlier, your sister has had another troubling vision." I like how he says 'another', as if Isabel has ever had a happy and carefree premonition.

"Show me," Matt commands.

Lord Penbarin allows his eyes to flutter closed and his mind to open, showing Isabel's vision to us. I'm looking through the eyes of someone else, in what I think is a cave judging by the stone walls. It's difficult to tell though, because all around me are bright lights in shimmering metallic colours, expanding by the second and obscuring more of my vision. Not expanding, I think, just getting closer. I hear Arkarian's voice from somewhere in Isabel's memory, probably trying to rouse her from her vision, and Lord Penbarin's mind closes again.

"She said she felt that the lights were burning her skin," Queen Brystianne says. "Isabel believes that she is about to be burnt alive in this vision."

"How does she know it's even her?" I ask.

"She says that she just knows. That, and she's never had a vision from someone else's point of view before."

I nod glumly and glance back over at Matt, who is frowning down at his hands. For a long time he doesn't say anything, and the other Tribunal members slowly start to shift around uncomfortably in their seats. Everyone, that is, except for Lady Arabella, who is leant forward, hands and expression tight, staring straight ahead at Matt. Isabel is well loved by everyone here, but I don't think that's the reason for Lady Arabella's intense gaze. She loved and adored Lorian, and she's not yet fully decided on Matt. I suppose it's understandable - they've never really made up since Matt falsely accused her of being a traitor.

"What has been done so far?" Matt asks finally.

"Forgive me, my lord, but I deemed it necessary to give Isabel her belated initiation gift somewhat prematurely," King Richard says from my right.

"A shame for it not to be a happier surprise, but we hope you agree it was necessary," Lord Penbarin chimes in.

"I do. Thank you, King Richard."

So Isabel has her wings, that's good news. Maybe we can practice using them together. I'm still really rusty with mine - I can get close to where I need to be, but sometimes I'll end up a room over. That doesn't seem like a big problem until you end up in the bathroom when your mom is taking a shower.

"In the meantime," Lord Penbarin continues, "we have advised her to stick close to other Guard members: yourself and Lady Neriah, of course, Arkarian…"

"Which Isabel will be delighted with, no doubt," Queen Brystianne jokes, prompting laughter around the room.

"Well, yes, quite. But there's little else we could offer. Unless you have any further suggestions, my lord and lady?"

Matt and I look at each other from across our seats. His expression is grim.

"I don't have any further suggestions," I say, shrugging my shoulders weakly. I feel so useless.

"Isabel is of the greatest danger to herself when she feels suffocated," Matt says. "I'm hesitant to enforce any stricter rules upon her besides staying with other Guards. I will think on it but for now I think we have done all we can."

"There is one other thing, my lord," Lady Arabella says. "Two things, really."

"Yes, my lady?"

"I have seen the lights in Isabel's vision before, and I have been racking my brain trying to think where."
"And have you had any success?"

"No, my lord. I do, however, have a member of my house who is very talented at rooting through other people's memories. I would be curious to see if he could be of any help."

"Then do it."

At Matt's words a few of the Tribunal members bristle. It takes me a moment to realise why, but then the penny drops. Having a regular Guard member gain unfettered access to a Tribunal member's memories, especially the longest-serving one, could be a potentially disastrous breach of security. I sneak a side-long glance at Lady Arabella, who hasn't even flinched, and I can't help but wonder if Matt has just walked into a very elegantly-laid trap.

Matt tenses. A Tribunal member must have just privately warned him of the implications of what he has just ordered. I wonder who it is that's looking out for him.

"I mean… only if you are sure that this would not be a risk to our security."

"Of course, my lord." The last part of what Lady Arabella says is stressed so subtly I almost miss it.

"And you said there was one other thing, Lady Arabella?" I ask, trying to fix a friendly smile to my face.

"Yes, my lady. I was wondering when we will be holding Dillon's trial."

Total silence falls across the chamber. No one moves, save to cautiously turn their gaze to Matt, who is tapping one finger on the marble podium in front of his seat.

"When I say," he answers simply. "You are all dismissed."

Nobody in the chamber so much as breathes. I feel my heart fluttering uncomfortably in my chest. I was wondering when this was going to happen. Matt refuses to tell anybody, including me, what is going on between himself and Dillon. The only clue he's ever given me is to warn me to stay away from him, and to never, ever, be alone with him. I would say that Matt is afraid of him, but what could a mortal do that would so badly scare an immortal?

"I'm afraid that we can no longer accept that answer," Lord Alexandon says - the first thing he's said since the beginning of the meeting. He leans back in his chair and tilts his head back until he's looking down his nose at Matt, grey eyes that are usually full of laughter and mirth now cold and unfriendly.

"I am giving you an order," Matt says calmly.

"We understand that," Lord Alexandon replies. "We've been given orders before, shockingly enough. But the thing is, when Lorian gave us orders he usually did us the courtesy of explaining why he was giving them."

"I am not Lorian."

"We know," Lady Arabella retorts coolly.

Faster than I knew he could move, Matt jumps to his feet and waves his arm in the air, filling the room with blinding light.

"You. Are. Dismissed," he says, voice reverberating through me with a power I didn't know he had and rattling my very bones. When the light fades, we're alone again - the Tribunal seats all empty.

"W-what did you do to them?" I ask shakily.

"Sent them back to their own quarters," Matt replies, scrambling back down to the floor. He rushes over and extends a hand out to me, helping me down as well. "Come on, we should go before things get nasty."

"What the hell just happened?"

"I think we just saw the first attempt at a coup."