AN: Hi! Thanks for continuing to read. This is going to be a long story, so please bear with the character development. I've also written these chapters very quickly, so I haven't had much time to edit typos and such. Apologies. Would love to hear what you think, so review away.

JJJJJ

Chapter 4

There was a phone call. It came early in the morning before most of the staff was awake, but for some reason, Jessica awoke to the ringing from Mr. Ruvie's office below her. The sound stopped. She could here murmuring filtering through the floor, lulling her back to sleep. Sighing, the girl nuzzled into her comforter.

Three weeks passed since everyone came home. The weather turned with their return, and the house residents spent their time indoors segregated according their personal interests.

The teenagers spent most of their time in the sitting room or the activity room on the second floor. For example, Krista was a dancer and spent a fair amount of time practicing routines for an audition with the Royal Academy of Dance in London at the end of the summer. She was already accepted into the London School of Economics to study international law. She quipped that she wanted to go to Oxford because their curriculum was better, but her 'hobby' would ultimately force her back to London anyway, and she would not need to divide her attention as much in the school she settled for. She originated from Uganda and came to the UK when she was four. Her parents were diplomats, so she was used to living abroad, but after they died several years later, she was left with nowhere to go except for a third world nation that seemed foreign to her after all these years. Somehow, either through careful planning between her parents' friends or by luck, she ended up at Whammy's. Jessica enjoyed listening to Krista talk. She was beautiful and vibrant and obviously took the good fortune with grace. Her intelligence seemed overshadowed by her personality, always laughing, always smiling.

Catelin was the youngest of the three. At sixteen, she was already attending University courses via a personal tutor that visited the House four days a week. She was very focused and used the sitting room as her personal library whenever she wanted. Unlike Krista, she was shrewd with her time and energy, certainly above wasting it chatting with the temporary visitor. From what Jessica could gather, her focus was on the environmental sciences and science policy, as the tutor was a professor from a local university and an old colleague of Mr. Ruvie's. Occasionally the girl overheard the older men rehashing old times over afternoon tea.

Then there was Zachary. Like Krista, he was planning to attend university in the fall for a medical degree. Jessica wondered if he had already started taking the necessary prerequisite courses like Catelin. He lived at Whammy's the longest, although it was clear from speaking with him that he was not from the UK.

"I'm American," he affirmed through his fork at breakfast. His accent was slight and muffled by his years living abroad, and if he really wanted to, he could pull off a proper voice, usually to mock Mr. Ruvie when he wasn't in earshot. He was born in New York and was flown to the UK right after his parents died. He did not say how his parent perished or when or why he was chosen to leave the states, but he mentioned a test to get into this orphanage like it was a grand privilege. The exam was similar to the one all of the children who attended the adjacent boarding school took; only theirs was actually hard, or so he said.

"What sort of test?" Jessica asked.

"Sort of like A levels, but more analytical and on a wide set of topics," Krista chimed in, "You take it right before you come in so they know where to put you for classes, gage your potential interests… you know, fit-for-purpose education."

"And all of you have taken it? Even the little ones," the girl motioned her side where Andrew, BB, and at the very end L sat. The three boys snapped over from their quiet meal at the mention of them.

"Of course," Zachary replied, smiling and leaning forward in a whisper, "If you can believe it, the highest score – and I mean blown out of the water – anyone has ever received was our little Lawliet over there. Good find, that one."

Jessica peered over to where the boy was sitting, well crouching really. As soon as he heard his name, he lost interest and was back to fiddling with his toast. His sharp profile was partially hidden by the shaggy mass of black hair, revealing only his jaw and thin lips pressed into a blank line.

"Where would you have gone if your score wasn't high enough?"

Zachary shrugged, nudging Andrew on the shoulder fondly, "Probably another Whammy institution. They are all over Briton and Europe. That's what he's know for, anyway."

"My grandfather is a patron of education and knows Mr. Whammy personally," Jessica offered.

From her left, Catelin scoffed, "Is that why you're here, then?"

The new tension carried silence with it and the conversation effectively died. Jessica was sure to avoid Catelin's attention when she could after that and ultimately found herself in the library. No one was ever there, and the girl wondered if the lack of use was due to the time of year, or if the library even suited the students at all.

Andrew still spoke to her, frequently popping into the quiet room to say hello and play a game of chess in the mornings. BB and L took over the game room on most days, whilst A quietly worked in his room on a project he still was not willing to tell her about. The three seemed so separate relative to the older children, who would goof off in the afternoons like most normal teens their age.

Jessica was at odds with how the younger three behaved. Andrew was well adjusted, at least on the surface, and polite. BB was a ghost, frightened of everything. And Lawliet was simply passive. Bored almost. She never saw them interact openly, except when BB was nervously trying to talk to Lawliet about something, whispering in his ear. Their communication was mostly nonverbal; a mutual understanding, some kind of common knowledge, that created an atmosphere so quiet in the playroom, it terrified the girl. She would rather risk the icy glare from Catelin than sit with the eerie doppelgangers.

This morning would prove no different, she thought, as she finally managed to drag herself from her covers, secretly counting down the days until the end of the summer. Just as she promised herself, Jessica wrote the apology letter to her grandparents hoping they would reclaim her with open arms. But that had been two weeks ago and no return mail was in the registry. Perhaps this was her punishment for being so insolent. Put her in a room of self-proclaimed geniuses to humble her into submission.

Jessica leisurely ambled to breakfast. The dining hall was once a formal dining room on the eastern wing of the great house. She suspected the boarding house conditions in the west wing must be similar. A long mahogany table was centered below several simple chandeliers, of which the six children and three adults (Mr. Whammy, Mr. Ruvie, and Miss Roberts) occupied only half. Jessica was placed between the two groups of children, sitting across from Zachary and Andrew. They were quite chummy, the most talkative at least, so she did not much mind.

All of the children beat her to breakfast, and awkwardly the girl positioned herself in front of her empty place. Like magic, Miss Jenny appeared with a glass of milk before disappearing again for her meal.

"Miss Lambert," Jessica turned to see Mr. Ruvie standing in the entry. His stern expression ever present, he licked his lips and gruffly spoke, "I need to speak with you."

"I told you," BB muttered to his bowl of oat porridge mixed with grape jelly instead of honey or milk. The girl jerked to the boy before fumbling out of her seat. A sense of dread washed over her at his words, and she approached the elder with some hesitation, the entirety of the group watching her leave.

Mr. Ruvie took her down the hall to his office. Shutting the door, he wavered before breaking the silence, "I have some news about your grandfather."

No. The tone of his voice was a warning. No – this could not possibly be what she was about to hear. Jessica had not yet managed to sit in the chair in front of her before she turned her head wide-eyed, tears stinging at the edges, to the older gentleman. His expression, sadness he veiled in the dining room only now shown privately, said all he needed to say. Her heart began to sprint, and she let the tears fall.

"I am so sorry."

The following days were a blur, of which Jessica was simply luggage moved from one place to another. She packed her things and hopped on a plane to meet her parents in Geneva. Mr. Ruvie, and later Mr. Whammy, joined her as close family friends of the deceased. Once there, the funeral service scheduled for the following morning. No cheery hellos, no warm hugs. Her mother was devastated and too occupied with her own shock to even notice her daughter's arrival.

As the granddaughter, and only young child, of the Lambert household, Jessica felt utterly alone in the reading room she used to play in all those summers ago. Her tea set still sat on the shelf where her grandmother stored it. Her favorite books lined a cupboard near the window. There were so many happy memories she could not bear to bring forward in her sorrow.

Her last words to him by letter were angry. Had he even received the apology? Guilt consumed her as she sobbed into her dress. She should not have been so defiant! She should have been here with him in his final days. But that had been taken from her because she was behaving like a spoiled brat. And now, she would do anything to have her grandfather back. Anything! Shadows and old ghosts be damned!

The service was grand. St. Pierre Cathedral was used and it seemed half of Europe was in attendance. His passing made the news circuit and heralded condolences from diplomats, politicians, military veterans, farmers and countrymen alike. Even a comment from the Royal Family was published. Everyone had a story to tell of the old man who followed in his father's footsteps and went on to improve countless of his countrymen's lives in doing so. He was an inspiration. A mentor. A loving husband and father. A good man.

There was a private wake afterwards, although Jessica was not allowed to be present for it. As a child, her position was to sit in the front pew and look sad. No words were necessary, not that she had much to say. Only that she was sorry, and she wished things could have been different. Everything was going to change now, and she was scared.

For several days, there was a deathly silence to the house. A lawyer came around to discuss the will. Several close friends stayed nearby for support, and Jessica avoided all of them. A few of her friends even stopped by for tea, asking where she had been, but the moment the innocent question was uttered, the girl broke down and ended the visit.

It was too much. It was all too much. And when her mother called her into the front room nearly a week after her arrival, what she said was the final straw that broke the camel's back.

"Roger and Quillish have agreed to take you back to England with them for remainder of the summer whilst we settle these affairs." Her mother motioned kindly to the gentlemen at her side. Mr. Ruvie and Mr. Whammy solemnly looked on with compassionate nods.

"No!" Jessica cried through newly shed tears, "I want to stay here!"

"That is not an option, dear," her mother rebuked as softly as she could, her hand reaching out for her daughter's.

Jessica pulled away, her hazel eyes wild, her delicate lips pulled back into a quivering sneer, "It's not fair!"

"Jessica-"

"It's not fair!"

She ran from them, intent to hole herself in her room until the end of time. The betrayal gutted her at the notion that her parents would send away again rather than keep her close, comfort her, support her. She lost the most important figure in her life, and all they could think about were their stupid 'affairs.' Stuff their affairs, she screamed into her pillow.

There was a soft knock at the door. Jessica wailed into her pillow some more, kicking at her bedspread in a distraught panic. The door was locked and the knock came again, this time with a muffled voice.

"Go away!" She screamed, throwing her cushion at the door and flouncing back down onto the bed.

"Jessica Lambert, you open this door, right now!"

She recognized the faint voice of her grandmother calling her to attention. Stiffly, the girl sat up, wiping at her flushed face. It was one thing throw a tantrum with her mother. It was another to disobey her grandmother. But she was angry and betrayed. She was in no mood to be dragged out for her behavior now. Slowly, she approached the door and opened it, her sad, sad eyes making their way up to meet her elder's face. The old woman looked pitifully on, holding her arms out, and Jessica threw herself into them.

Patsy held her granddaughter for some time, sitting on the edge of her bed, stroking her hair and letting the girl cry out all of her anguish. She listened as the girl squeaked out her apology for refusing to visit, affirming that her husband had, in fact, received both the angry letter and, later, the letter that begged forgiveness for all that she said. She confirmed that George would never have held her words against her, that he loved her with all of heart, and that his passing was quiet and peaceful. It was simply his time. People die. She would eventually die. It was way of things, but her granddaughter's pain would pass as it would with any event that struck the heart so hard and so suddenly.

Jessica wanted to believe what she said was hollow, but the consoling strokes on her hair paired with soft, unassuming words ejected such negative thoughts from her mind. When she was finally calm, the older woman informed her of the real reason for her visit.

"I have something for you."

The girl looked up as the old woman sifted a key from her cardigan pocket and handed it to her. The small key went to a filing cabinet or lockbox and was attached to a long chain.

"Your grandfather always wore this key with his military tags when he was alive," Patsy began. She moistened her lips before continuing, "He made me promise to give it to you after he died."

"Where does it go to?"

"There is a cabinet in his office. I have never touched it – he was very protective of it, you see – but I'm sure whatever is inside was meant for you, and you only."

Jessica took the key and its chain timidly and with a sense of surprised awe that she could not shake from her face. She left her grandmother sitting on her bed in search of her grandfather's office. Closing the door once inside, she inhaled. The room smelled of old pipe tobacco and paper and ink. Hints of leather and spice she never could place. Everything in the room was still untouched, as though he could walk in at any moment. He would probably smile at her and tell her in a fake grumpy manner that she was intruding on his secret place. The thought alone brought a brief grin before she wiped another tear flourishing down her cheek. Her brunette hair had long fallen out of its braid and she tucked the offending strands back behind her ear.

Searching the gigantic bookcase that covered one side of the room, she spotted a small cabinet near the floor in the corner. The wood was old and well worn, likely moved many times over the years, and Jessica had to get on her knees and lean down to fully access it. Wiping her hands on her dress, she grabbed the key and gingerly pushed it into the lock, turning it with a click. The hinges creaked as the cabinet opened.

The space was too low for her to see what was inside, so she reached in and grabbed at a parcel, pulling it out slowly. Several items slumped onto the floor: a pocket watch, several gold coins, a sealed letter, and a thick envelope. She idly picked at the watch and coins, noting that they must have both been very old, older than her grandfather at least. But then she set them side for the letter. The envelope cover had 'For Jessica' written in elaborate script, and she carefully opened the seal to reveal a folded sheet of thick parchment. Flipping it open, the message was short and simple.

Dear Jessica, I am so very sorry.

She was stunned, confused. What did he mean by that? What could he possibly be sorry for? Finally, she looked at the larger envelope. The manila was aged and faded, the package held together with shipping string. Crawling up to the desk, she managed to find a set of scissors and reclaimed her position on the floor, clipping the cord and opening the package.

A black book slid into her grip. It was slightly smaller than a typical journal, thick and bound by what she assumed was a leather. There was nothing on the either cover, and she opened the aged front panel, cringing as the binding snapped from disuse. She expected dust or something, but the pages were pristine. Crisp even. The book must have been old, though, for when she saw the first page, it had a list of names with dates next to them, the first one marked at seventeen-eighteen.

"Is this a register?" She wondered aloud. The room echoed and she glanced up to the bookshelf. A chill crept up her spine, now suddenly too cold in the room. But the sun was out. It was shining into the office even.

A noise came from behind her, and it was then that the girl noticed a shadow loom over her. She thought of the specter that always followed her grandfather, and for a moment, her heart stopped out of fear.

"Who is there?"

Nothing came back, but the dark, cold shiver would not leave her. Jessica closed her eyes and slowly shifted toward the door.

"I said, who is there?" She repeated, but there was again no answer. Biting her lip, she opened her eyes and subtly gasped in horror.

Before her was a man. No, a creature. This was not human; she knew that for sure. Tall and thin and the darkest of gray in color, the figure stood nearly to ceiling. Red, penetrating eyes nailed her to the floor, no breath could escape her. Teeth, so many teeth, covered its mandible in an expressionless maw. Skeletal was a word for it. Terrifying was what it was. Two gangly arms and two spindly legs motioned forward, its stride easily crossing the room in a single step as the creature, the thing leaned down to greet her. There was no room to scream. There was nothing she could do except quake, her grip on the book tightening.

"At last, we finally meet," It spoke. The sound was gravelly, low and did not match any movement from its emaciated face. The sound was entirely in her head, so loud and so, so terrifying, it hurt. Dropping the book, Jessica ran fingers to her ears, new tears falling unbidden. The creature paused and leaned in further still before finishing its thought, "You may call me Syn."