Chapter 2: Knight-Time Rendezvous

The following day, Marissa was busy in her room, finding places to put the presents from the night before, such as a set of new storybooks from Bonnie, a coloring book and a set of crayons from Rodrigo, some new shoes from April (her feet had gotten a little bigger), a stuffed dolphin from Michael, a set of encyclopedias from Laura…

On the dresser was a medium sized music box, shaped on the bottom part in a square, intricately made and, on the outside, out of gold. On the top was a ballerina, standing on one leg. On the bottom of the box, was engraved, saying, "To my dearest daughter, Rissie, on her birthday." That had been what Devon had brought with him from Venezuela.

After everything had been put into place, including some new clothes, a large pad of paper and some pencils (from Kitt), she then picked out a green blouse and pair of brown pants for their meeting later that night.

In the living room, Devon was talking to Michael, who had come up to see how she was doing.

"How you can eat so much as you did last night will never cease to amaze me," he was saying as she came in.

"Yeah," she said, frowning at Michael, "No wonder you got a tummy-ache."

"Not quite, dear," Devon said, "In his case, it's more called a hangover."

"Um…hangover? What a hangover?"

"Something that little girls don't need to worry about," Michael said.

Devon smirked a little as he said, "It's like a tummy-ache, but brought on having too many grown-up drinks. Make sure you never wind up like this, you hear me?"

"Yes, father," she replied as Michael grimaced at him.

"Oh thanks a lot," the younger man groaned, "I did not drink as much as he's insinuating, kiddo."

"He had plenty of both food and drink last night," Kitt remarked from Michael's comlink, "My thoughts match Devon's exactly in that respect."

"Yeah, that figures!"

Right then, something whistled from the kitchen.

"Rissie, keep an eye on him for me while I go get something, will you?" Devon asked.

"Sure," she replied.

As he went into the kitchen, Marissa asked, "Why do people pig out so much at parties?"

"You harassing me, too?"

"No, I'm serious! It happens at Thanksgiving, at father's birthday back in March and last night. I even heard that in some places, it happens at New Years, too!"

"I don't think that many people will be able to answer that one. I, for one, will never understand."

Devon came back out with a glass that was filled with hot tea, as well as a second one that had hot water mixed with something that suspiciously smelled herbal, raw eggs, yolks included, pepper and only a little bit of flavoring.

Michael grimaced as Devon gave him the second glass, then asked, "What's this stuff?"

The Englishman smiled a little as he answered, "A hangover remedy. It's been a secret recipe in the family for hundreds of years. I had to get some of the ingredients from Rodrigo. Drink it up, it's no good when it's cold. When you're older, Rissie, I'll teach it to you."

Michael pinched his nose shut as he drank the concoction, wincing at the taste.

"Yes, it does taste horrid, but at least you'll be over the hangover in half the time," he said to Michael.

"I believe that about it being a secret recipe," the younger man replied after draining the glass and handing it back to Devon. He had a feeling that it was a recipe that came from one of the older man's Mystic ancestors.

"You sure that you don't want me to come along when you meet with your sister? From what you've told me, I'd like to at least meet her."

Devon shook his head, "From what I hear, she'll be in the city for at least a couple of weeks. Don't worry, Michael, you'll get to meet her soon enough. Besides, we'll be all right."

"I'm not so sure of that," he answered, "I've got one of those bad gut feelings about this."

His expression became more serious as he said, "Michael, I don't know why and I'm not about to ask, but you've been…well, rather jumpy when Rissie or I meet with someone from outside of the Foundation since the incident in March."

"Did Bonnie talk to you?"

"No, she didn't." He patted Michael's shoulder lightly as he added, "Don't worry, Michael. After all, she is my older sister. It's not like she's going to do something untoward to us."

The younger man nodded reluctantly, then said, "Who knows, I might just go down to the beach and relax. The ocean at night is really something else."

Deep down, though, Michael couldn't get rid of the cold chill that was in his gut.

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That night, after Devon and Marissa left for the hotel where Cassa was staying, Michael started off to the beach with Kitt when he suddenly shivered.

"Are you all right, Michael?" Kitt asked, "Your temperature just dropped."

Although the AI was getting used to the times he would read sharp body temperature drops from both Michael and Marissa, he still didn't like it when they happened.

"Just one of those cold chills," the younger man replied, "And a very bad feeling about all this…"

"You heard what Devon said. This is his older sister we're talking about."

"Yeah, but I can't get rid of the feeling something's really wrong." There was a pause before Michael said, "Kitt, scan your files for anything involving Cassandra Miles. News articles, files, certificates, the works."

"If it will settle your 'bad feeling', I'll get on it right away."

"Then do it," Michael replied, feeling more than a little testy now.

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Devon and Marissa went straight to the address they were given, which was room 315 at a hotel in the city. Along the way, he talked to her about "Aunt Cassa", including things from the past and the last time he had seen her, much less talked to her.

Now, they were standing outside the door, composing themselves before he knocked on the door.

An older, harsh and accented voice called out, "Who is it?"

"Devon and Marissa," he answered.

There was a bit of a scramble as she opened the door, then smiled.

She was certainly older than Verona had been, and looking to be quite in her prime. She would be as tall as Michael, with sharp gray eyes and reddish-brown hair that was curled and went down to her back. Currently, she was wearing a brown, fancy dress that seemed to put all others to shame, including Marissa's blouse and pants.

"It's been a long time, Devon…and this must be little Marissa," she replied, her voice becoming a bit less harsh.

"Umm…yes. Nice to meet you, Aunt Cassa," she replied, curtseying gracefully.

"My, and well behaved, too. Come in, both of you."

They both came inside, with Cassa shutting and locking the door behind them.

"You're just in time. I've just brewed a fresh pot of Earl Grey that I brought with me from the mother country," she continued.

"Earl Grey? Umm, I didn't know hotel rooms had stoves!"

"Some of the more extravagant ones do, dear," Devon explained, "They're about like little houses." When he saw the scandalized look on his sister's face, he quickly added, "She's learning quite a few things. Riss—Marissa's been in savage conditions for seven years, and it's only been a year since she was rescued."

"Ah, that explains it. I heard about Verona's death. Terrible."

Right then, she showed them to the sofa and went into the kitchen, saying, "Do either of you take sugar with your tea?"

"No, thank you," he answered.

"Yes, one please," Marissa said.

Cassa then got out a small container filled with what looked like white sugar…and put some of it in both cups. She then stirred quickly.

She smiled as she put the cups on small saucers and picked them up, bringing them into the living room.

"What is it you wanted to talk to me about so much?" she asked as she handed each cup to her guests.

"Cassa, this might sound strange…it may even sound crazy…but before the incident in England, did mother or Verona say anything about…being born differently than everyone else…? Or anything about a different kind of Gypsies…?" Devon asked as he drank some of the tea.

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As Michael and Kitt were going into the downtown area, planning on eating before going to the beach, the AI suddenly began to speak.

"Michael, I found something in the records on Cassandra Miles."

"Good or bad?"

"Bad. I'll bring up the latest reference on the monitor," he answered, then brought up the information.

Michael read the text on the screen, and by the time that he was finished, all the blood had been drained from his face.

"No. Oh Lord, no," he said.

"No need to say 'I told you so'."

"This is one time I wish I was wrong."

"Michael, this is impossible, but…I'm scared. I'm truly scared."

"I'm scared too, buddy. Plot the fastest route to the hotel and alert the Foundation," he ordered as he punched some buttons, then asked, "Did Bonnie put in the transmission augmenter between you and the comlinks yet?"

"Yes, she did this morning."

"Okay, as soon as you're in range, contact Marissa on her comlink, then tell her to get Devon and herself out of the hotel. We'll pick them up then head back at once."

"Right away, Michael."

"Kitt…do AIs believe in God?"

"I think there is a Creator out there, yes…and then there's the fact that Medina exists—"

"Yes or no?"

"Yes."

"Then start praying," Michael said, "Start praying that we're not too late."