Toby watched his best friend's window with concern. Tomorrow would be the day of that stupid rematch with the ultimate bully troll Draal. The teen wished he had some time machine to go back in time and drag away Jimbo before the entire disaster started. Alas, there wasn't any convenient measure like that.
There was no light in the window, but Toby knew his friend too well to make a mistake. Most likely, Jim simply turned off the lights not to worry him. And it sucked - the fact that his bro was concerned about him, despite having a way bigger problem incoming.
Toby reached for his phone, hesitating between sending a message and a call. Which one would work as better support? Or perhaps, he could sneak out to the neighbors' house - Nana was fast asleep already, so she wouldn't notice in any case.
Chompsky mumbled something comforting in his peculiar language, and the boy couldn't help smiling at his tiny roommate. Even the gnome was anxious about the match outcome. Toby could only wonder about Jim's mental state at the moment.
And… All those worries and a previous sleepless night had been too exhausting. The teen looked at his pillow longingly.
Just fifteen minutes nap - and then he'd go to Jimbo's house and find out the best winning strategy possible. Yes, that would do.
He dozed off immediately, right after getting to his bed, waking up only to the annoying alarm clock beeping and Chompsky jumping on his chest. A supposed fifteen minutes nap somehow had turned out into full-time sleep.
Toby cursed inwardly, running down without bothering with morning hygiene or even breakfast. Jimbo was already outside, getting ready to hop on his bike.
The image of it was heartcrushing - it was as if his best friend had decided to head out for his death alone, without waiting for him.
"I've thought we decided to go together," Toby scowled, not being able to hide his disappointment. Jim averted his eyes guiltily:
"Sorry, I just wasn't sure if you wished to witness that…"
"Then you don't know me good enough," the plump teen fumbled. "You won't get rid of me that easily… Wait a sec, I'll get my bike!"
Any other day, he would probably chew his friend for longer, but part of him perfectly understood why Jim had tried to go without him. Dying while your dear people watching? That definitely didn't sound that exciting.
The Trollhunter was waiting patiently when Toby returned - probably, giving up on his initial plan. He also looked at his house longingly. Was it giving silent farewells?
"So…" the plump teen drawled, cutting himself mid-question. What was he going to ask? 'Are you ready?' Who would be ready for the incoming death battle? Well, Drall most likely would, but apparently, his notion of normalcy was a different beast altogether.
"Let's go," Jim added himself, looking in the direction of canals. Then he smacked his forehead as if remembering something:
"Oh, wait!"
After rummaging a bit inside his bag, the lanky teen extracted something that looked even too familiar.
No, sure thing Jimbo having that wasn't anything new, but right now? Toby stared at the paper bag in bewilderment:
"Is it what I think?"
"Lunch for you, yes," Jim nodded.
"No way. Have you cooked this morning?"
No, of course, he was well aware of his best friend's habit of cooking when he felt anxious. But this? It took the cake for sure.
"Yep, a meatloaf, I think you liked that one…"
"The one you made the morning when everything began?"
It was such an irony that Jim had decided on that one. Was it intentionally or just a dumb coincidence?
Or, most likely, it was just a subconscious move - if everything started with meatloaf, it should have ended with meatloaf too.
No, someone had to stay positive despite all the doom and gloom. And Toby knew better than anyone that he was the best for that role.
"Actually, the meatloaf was atrocious. I bet cardamom spoiled everything - that's why you need to improve that recipe, OK?" he stated boldly.
A promise to improve the recipe would equal the promise of having the future, to survive. Yet Jim kept silent instead.
Was he that desperate? Had he given up?
"I have a request," he said, breaking an uncomfortable silence. "Can you deliver these letters if the worst happens?"
Toby watched several envelopes his best friend handled him. That wasn't anything he had expected as a response.
"And these are?" he muttered, reading names scribbled on the paper.
"Something I wanted to tell but have never gotten a chance to," Jim nodded with a sigh. "Probably would be better to say it properly, but well…"
Toby frowned - the letters were addressed to everyone his friend felt some connection to - his mother, Claire, Douxie, and…
"You wrote one for me too," the plump teen stated flatly. "Are you that desperate?"
The last one left his lips unwittingly, but he simply couldn't help it. Yes, it wasn't that considerate, however, Toby wasn't even sure he wanted to be considerate with his buddy's life hanging by a threat.
"Actually, no."
"Wha…? Wait, wait, Jimbo, what does it mean?"
No matter how much he looked, Jim didn't look optimistic yet… Yes, he didn't seem the one submitting to his unfortunate fate.
"Let's go, I'll explain it on the way…"
It felt so odd - Toby could swear he had noticed a shadow of a hopeful smile. Or was it just wishful thinking?
"So, can I finally get an explanation?" the plump teen huffed as they both pedaled their bikes towards the canals. "This uncertainty drives me nuts!"
He silently prayed his best friend had found some miraculous solution overnight. The response, however…
"Well, I've read a bit tonight…" Jim chuckled, seemingly embarrassed.
"Jimbo, it's not the time for jokes!"
"But I'm not joking! Remember The Brief Recapitulation of Troll Lore?"
It was official - the current Trollhunter would go down in history as the one who had lost his mind while waiting for the deathmatch.
"Last time I checked, it was full of unreadable hieroglyphs!" Toby exclaimed. If his friend wanted to lighten the grim mood with a joke, he had failed spectacularly. "And it's impossible to learn a language overnight!"
"It is. But, well, imagine what? The amulet apparently has a translation function!"
That was so outright bonkers.
"And no one's mentioned that?"
Jim didn't respond.
"Remind me to choke Blinky to death when everything's over. Or Douxie. Or better both! You don't keep something that vital to yourself!"
Toby felt royally annoyed - what else did those guys prefer to omit? Sure thing, the translation function might have changed nothing regarding the current situation, but where was the guarantee that it was the only thing no one bothered to mention.
"So, was there anything on secret deadly moves in that book?" he continued after venting out a bit. Even if it was a book by trolls for trolls, it could still contain something even a scrawny human teen could use. Like some long-lost art of swordsmanship or something.
"Well, it's more like a strategy," Jim shrugged, jumping off his bike.
"Meaning?"
"Gronk-nuks."
Now Toby was more than sure that he had to stop his friend. It was one thing to engage in a death battle while being fully sane. And the Trollhunter seemingly was too far from that.
The plump teen caught Jim's arm as he tried to draw an arc with the horngazel:
"I don't think you should go if your only plan is the Rule Number Three!"
"Oh, come on, Tobes, don't discourage me when I'm not that sure myself!" he groaned, wrestling his arm out. "It can work, but it can also fail! It's just I found out some important facts which may help!"
Jim had never been a fast reader, and unfortunately, he had only skimmed through one volume out of forty-something, however, he had noticed some peculiarities.
Trolls respected courage and strong will. Nevertheless, a good chunk of them weren't warriors - there were more than enough occupations for them to take. Warriors were the most respected caste in most tribes (with the lone exceptions of Gumm-Gumms, where everyone was a warrior, and some tribes with none). However, the fables compiled into the Brief Recapitulation weren't always about someone capable of fighting. There were some tales of miners or even scholars who won using some wit.
A weak point. The book often mentioned that factor. Not always gronk-nuks - though those were preferred for enemies who had those.
And dropping the guard. 'Always be afraid'. So many almighty trolls had fallen only because they hadn't taken the opponent seriously. Some had gone easy on their enemy. Some had started to celebrate too early. Overconfidence could kill.
Jim recalled all his battles so far. The encounter with both Bular and Barverra - none of them had been serious, which had allowed the Trollhunter to find an opening for the escape. The fight in the museum - the trick he pulled together with Douxie and the clever usage of the environment had been the decisive factor.
Could he actually use that knowledge to his advantage? Heroes' Forge barely gave the young Trollhunter any advantage - putting its ever-shifting training mode aside, Draal was familiar with it as well (most likely, he knew way more than Jim could even dream about).
That would leave weak points and overconfidence. The latter was easy - his predecessor's son had never taken the human boy seriously or viewed him as someone worthy to be his rival. And after that humiliating defeat in the spar? Draal would take the victory for granted.
Sure thing, it was still sink or swim kind of the situation. However, it was far from the previous 'entirely hopeless' state. And even if chances remained pretty pathetic, Jim was still ready to hold onto those.
Because, no matter how much he thought, he still wanted to live. There were more than enough things for him to fight for…
After the cryptic message from Sarah, Barbara half-expected the place of the meeting to be some secret location or something. However, the lively family restaurant clearly was anything but that. She remembered that one - after all, she used to take Jim here regularly.
The mother closed her eyes, recalling her boy's excited expression and lively talk. Oh yeah, her son had fancied the cooking here and even tried to replicate it later with mixed results.
Those were memories of the peaceful times before she had reunited with Bular and dived into her old lifestyle.
Barbara looked around, pinpointing her witch friend at once. For someone who wanted secrecy, Sarah was clearly lacking in being unnoticeable. She didn't even use a basic disguise like sunglasses or a hat.
Or perhaps, the daughter of Gunmar had misinterpreted the message. Maybe Freckles simply wished to have an idle chat without attracting any unnecessary attention. Or…
Sarah's grim expression shattered any hope for a trivial matter. And as soon as Barbara sat across her, the witch exploded with an irritated hiss:
"Is it that difficult to keep the status quo? Was it that necessary to complicate everyone's life?"
"Hold on," Barbara interrupted with some annoyance. What was wrong with her friend? "What are you talking about?"
She mentally ran through the latest events wondering what exactly had happened to piss Sarah that much. No, there was more than enough stuff, but nothing stood out that much.
"A group of wizards being on the verge of war with the Janus Order," the witch looked for any reaction, but apparently, Barbara's confusion was evident enough. "Wait, don't tell me that it's the first time you've heard about it!"
The daughter of Gunmar frowned. Yes, it definitely sounded crazy, and yes, she had no idea what that was about. Her thoughts trailed back to the previous night, trying to remember if anything felt suspicious about Stricklander.
The fact that the winged bastard was fishy by default didn't help much.
'Focus, you know him good enough already.'
Stricklander was a smart schemer, someone planning each of his steps. Resourceful. Great in bluff. And with a preference to make two enemies fight each other instead of encountering those himself.
Siccing Bular on the Trollhunter? Trying to use Barverra's anger to get rid of his rivals? That was always his tactic. Putting the entire Janus Order in danger of possible confrontation with some wizard group? That impure would never do that.
The Order was something he cherished, his thing to protect. Even if Stricklander had criticized Barverra's way of playing chess, he also didn't fancy extremely risky gambits.
Putting his life on the line? He could do that. Most likely, he even enjoyed walking along the edge while trying the limits of his skill to bluff and manipulate. Jeopardizing the Order? That was a huge no. In the end, that schemer was also a leader - he could pluck the roots of rebellion but would never destroy the organization itself.
It was such an irony that Barbara had managed to understand Stricklander so well.
In the end, they were birds of feather, two strategists with a similar mindset.
'I'm not a liar though,' she tried to protest mentally.
'Seriously?' her skepticism retorted at once. 'And Jim?'
Barbara shook her head, banishing away all the pointless thoughts. There was only one conclusion she needed - and that one was that Stricklander knew nothing as well.
"Can you tell me more details?" the daughter of Gunmar asked. She was already grateful that her old friend decided against going on with her irritated rant.
"Well," Sarah shrugged. "I genuinely thought you were aware, knowing that the Janus Order is under your dad's control, but… Anyway, long story short, a braindead changeling barged into the place connected to magic, started a fight with some reckless magic user, and kicked the bucket. Usually, there would be some negotiations to pacify both parties involved - the Hex Tech often organizes those to keep balance, but not this time."
So far, it made some sense, however, too much remained confusing.
"So impures being aggressive for no reason, and you thought I've given them an approval," Barbara muttered. No, of course, she had been rather ruthless and bloodthirsty during her stay at the witches' village, so Sarah most likely judged from that image. It still felt unpleasant. Who could imagine that friendship meant so much to the heartless Herald of Doom?
"Changelings are not the main offending party here," the witch lowered her voice, noticing a waitress approaching their table.
The daughter of Gunmar wondered what exactly that meant as Sarah was talking with the waitress with a polite smile. The time seemed to drag for too long. Couldn't Freckles just order coffee and shortcakes? What was the point in asking about every single position on the menu?
"Are you content with wasting my time?" Barbara asked when the waitress left, irritation seeping into her tone.
"Don't you think we need to maintain a cover story? Let's play two friends coming to enjoy an idle chat and nice dessert," Sarah smiled sheepishly. She definitely had done that intentionally, perhaps, as a payback for her headache.
"Whatever… I'd rather hear about the offending party - I've thought you magic folks were overcautious."
If changelings had nothing to do with igniting the conflict, it would only leave their opponents as guilty ones.
"We are overcautious," Sarah nodded. "However, this time it's too complex to solve like that… Have you heard of GDT Arcane Books?"
Barbara frowned - she knew that bookstore as she had passed it multiple times during her trips to other shops. She had never been inside though, and her general impression of it was something along the lines of 'a place to attract superstitious folks'. Its connection to the real magic world was a huge surprise.
"So, that deceased impure attacked that store? Is it connected to the Hex Tech?"
"It would be way better if that dumbass attacked the Hex Tech!" Sarah barely held her anger. "But no, he had to cause chaos inside the shop belonging to the member of the Avalon group!"
Barbara knew close to nothing about the complexities of magic users' society or factions they had there, but Avalon was so heavily associated with both King Arthur and Merlin that it was nearly impossible to make a mistake about that group's allegiance or worldview.
The Hex Tech might have been a dubious neutral party, but that one was definitely an enemy.
The daughter of Gunmar could guess that the Avalon group most likely had been invested in protecting humanity from malevolent supernatural beings, but why would the Janus Order have attacked first? It was no different from poking a sleeping bear - an utterly brainless move with no benefit altogether.
"I hoped you'd explain to me that," Sarah groaned. Barbara realized too late that she had actually voiced her musings.
There should have been a good explanation.
Magic.
Wizards.
Secret clashes.
Merlin. Merlin's associate.
Yes, that was it - the Janus Order was looking for the Trollhunter's magician ally. They probably blindly poked around until hitting some suspicious spot.
"I believe everything was just a dumb coincidence," the daughter of Gunmar stated boldly. It had to be that one.
"What a tasteless joke…"
"It's not."
The waitress's appearance interrupted the conversation once again, and both women bit their tongues. Even when the girl left, the silence continued as Sarah was poking her dessert with a spoon, her expression full of murderous intent. Barbara could relate to that urge to stab someone.
"So, the owner of Arcane Books killed some foolish impure - I guess, someone of some importance, - and now both parties demand blood?" she prompted, getting sick of the pregnant pause.
"Yes, for the later part, but you're off with the first one," the witch frowned, abandoning her bizarre activity.
"Meaning?"
Barbara was quite surprised that her theory wasn't fully correct. Though, with those bits and pieces she got, it was just impossible to build a coherent picture. No, Freckles was seriously irritating at times.
"The one who killed the changeling was an employee. And sorry, no idea about their name or identity," Sarah explained. "As for the owner - despite belonging to the Avalon group, he actually tried to hush the entire incident and used the Hex Tech for covering the tracks. Alas, the information got leaked when the Janus Order demanded retribution."
"Retribution?"
"They want their kin's killer dead."
Changelings, looking for vengeance? Those back-stabbing bastards? There was no way Barbara would believe in that. There was some serious motive behind that, and the only possibility would be…
The mysterious employee being one and the same as the unknown Trollhunter's wizard ally.
Be it Stricklander or some of his rivals, someone at the Janus Order was lucky to secure an important trump card.
Should she have put a stop to that?
Actually, no. The daughter of Gunmar had suddenly realized that she would lose nothing even if the war broke out. The death of the mysterious magic user would mean the elimination of a good chunk of the protection for the human Trollhunter. And without those, she could effortlessly get the amulet, finish the restoration of Killahead and liberate her father. As for Stricklander, that schemer would have his hands full dealing with the infuriated wizard party.
Everything would be perfect.
"Why do your expression tell me that you won't even lift a finger to deal with this mess?" Sarah frowned. "Let me guess - you'll be happy to see both parties eliminating each other."
Did the witch even know she was allowed to throw around such critics only because Barverra considered her a good friend?
"If you know me that well, why did you call me here? Do you remember my moniker?"
It wasn't a threat - just a reminder not to try the luck too much.
Any other living soul would have escaped a long time ago, but Sarah was made of a different cloth apparently.
"Well, I didn't plan to talk to the Herald of Doom," her eyes turned harsh and determined. "I wanted to hear what Jim's mother would think about that."
'You prioritize the defense of your king too much,' Stricklander jeered inside Barbara's mind once again. Was she that obvious? Two people had already noticed the tendency.
"Don't try to guilt-trip me," she hissed, but her resolve was already wavering.
The Herald of Doom would have allowed the war to unravel in its full glory.
Jim's mother would stop it.
The conflict of that caliber would undeniably put an end to all that well-crafted secrecy everyone had worked to maintain for decades. The Janus Order was apparently ready to pull the risky gambit, and the Avalon group simply refused to swallow their pride. The chaos would bloom in any case, with a high chance of other factions or even regular humans being involved.
And Jim… Her son's life would be in constant danger in that horrible world, even if Barbara would switch to protecting him 24/7.
Not to mention…
He would learn the truth for sure, most likely in a traumatic way. The mother hated to admit it, but it scared her the most.
"Can you stop acting like my conscience?" Barbara whispered.
"I haven't told that much," Sarah reminded, but her expression softened already. "Let me get it straight - I don't care about changelings, and Merlin's associates can go and kill themselves as many times as they want. But I want to protect people I care about, so I'll do everything to prevent the disaster."
"So even you can become a manipulator in time of need…" the daughter of Gunmar smiled sadly - she knew that kind of determination, the one which would throw away all the principles for the sake of someone dear.
"You're one of these people too."
Barbara briefly thought she had misheard, but no, the witch actually stated something that bonkers.
"Oh, come on, when did I need any protection? I…"
"Can break a neck of your offender by bare hands. I know," Sarah finished impatiently. "Physical damage isn't the only one and not even the scariest - and you should know it better than me."
The daughter of Gunmar wished to retort, to prove that her friend was foolishly wrong, but… What was the point of arguing when she had an ultimate Achilles heel? At least the witch wasn't interested in abusing her dangerous knowledge.
But…
For how long could it last until someone else would learn about her son? Keeping Jim safe from all the supernatural stuff continued to grow more and more difficult. How many days until she would be forced to confess and turn his world upside-down.
Her previous plan to relay the truth slowly was so naive. Sarah had unwittingly reminded Barbara the world itself was against her for whatever reason…
Jim still refused to believe that he somehow had managed to win against Draal, the huge, strong, experienced troll, who was above him in basically everything.
It felt like a dream - yet the memories were too fresh, too detailed, too vivid for it to be just a fruit of his overanxious mind. And well, bruises and soreness were pretty much real too - after all the adrenalin had worn off, the Trollhunter had felt all of that.
At least the feeling of victory and that he could live for another day felt great. It was so stupid - the enemies were lurking somewhere, he could still die any second after an unfortunate encounter with Bular, Barverra, or some changeling.
But…
Toby seemed happy. Relieved. It was as if someone had lifted a heavy burden from his shoulders. This stuff with the rematch had been too stressful for the teen.
And Jim knew that his best friend had allowed himself a momentary weakness as he had read the letter addressed to him. Not that he would ever dare to criticize him for that - at some point of the battle, the Trollhunter was on the verge of giving up himself.
There was also a moment he would prefer to bury as deep inside his mind as possible. Jim's wild aggressive side had decided to take the backseat during the match (for better or worse - the teen wasn't sure about it), however, it had resurfaced when everything had ended.
Jim closed his eyes, recalling Draal hanging above the abyss. The entire Trollmarket had urged their champion to finish the loser and…
For some painful seconds, he had been with them full-heartedly - and no human reasoning had mattered.
He's brought it upon himself.
He would have killed me if I lost.
The second rule of the trollhunting is 'always finish the fight'.
Those sweet temptations Jim had willingly listened to, with encouraging roars as the background music. The troll world was the ruthless one, so would it have been so wrong to go with the flow?
And Draal… He had known it too and submitted to his fate entirely.
Killing him would have been so easy.
But, for better or worth, Jim Lake had never been the one to look for an easy way, especially when it meant betraying his beliefs.
Compassion and kindness had clashed against dark thoughts - and no matter how strong later were, they had been crushed and defeated.
"Hey, Jimbo, what are you thinking about?" Toby inquired, chewing at Nougat Nummy.
"Draal."
"Do you regret sparing him?"
Jim wondered if his best friend had noticed his momentary reluctance when he had been deciding his opponent's fate.
Having that power, that dominance felt great, yet…
"No."
How could there be any other answer? Today he hadn't only won against the troll warrior, there had been that secret mental victory as well.
"But man, those trolls are such asses," Toby grumbled. "Like come on, Draal put a great fight, and they were rooting for him. What's up with all that booing only because the dude has survived? Hello? Where's logic?"
"That's because I've crushed his honor," Jim responded. Somehow, he could understand that feeling. Trolls believed that there could be only an honorable death after defeat - and the human Trollhunter just had gone and stripped his opponent from that noble right.
Most likely, the entire Trollmarket saw him as a despicable villain right now, someone no different from those who desecrated bodies of fallen enemies. Or maybe even worse.
Couldn't his reputation stop plummeting even for a second?
Now Jim understood why Blinky stopped his attempt to tell about the changelings and the bridge. The teen still had no respect among locals, so bringing up something without concrete proof would rather lead to getting the title of liar in addition to tradition-defiler. He should probably have thanked his mentor later.
The boys reached the exit of the Trollmarket without noticing.
"So, what is our next move? Going to school?" Toby inquired, checking the watch. "Probably we'll be able to make it in time for some periods…"
Jim shook his head:
"Nah, I'm beaten. And probably won't remember a thing in any case. I'd rather try to unwind…"
"We can go to Douxie," Toby suggested. "Actually, I'm surprised that he hasn't come. I was sure he was worried too."
He was right. That was odd. Besides, the wizard-in-training hadn't contacted any of them for some time.
Jim felt his heart sinking. Some kind of sixth sense told him that something horrible could possibly happen while he had been busy with the deathmatch. What if the enemies had found Douxie? Was he even alive now?
No, everything should have been alright. Merlin's apprentice was probably the most experienced in their team when it came to encountering malevolent creatures.
"Yes, let's go to the Arcane Books," Jim steeled his resolve - there was no point in guessed and empty worries.
He stepped first through the glowing arc of the magical passway. The light outside was slightly blinding. Lately, the teen had noticed that his eyes adjusted to darkness way faster than to light. Was it always like that? Or, perhaps, it was just his imagination.
Though, Toby evidently had fewer problems with that.
"Hey, Douxie, Zoe!" he greeted while Jim was still blinking and covering his eyes from the sunlight.
"See, told you!" Zoe smirked confidently. "Everyone's alive and kicking!"
"Please, no mention of kicking or punching," Toby begged. "I won't be able to forget Draal throwing Jim around like a ragdoll for a while!"
"Jim, you ok?" Douxie came closer and watched Jim worriedly. "Something with eyes?"
"It's fine already, just looked straight at the sun," he chuckled.
That was a lie, and Jim wondered himself, why he would lie about something that trivial. Was it because the oversensitivity to the sunlight wasn't normal?
Normal for a human.
Okay, it started to get ridiculous already. Jim forced the odd thoughts away and joined the conversation. Apparently, Toby was accusing their older friend of ditching them during an important moment.
"I don't think the Trollmarket would be happy if we brought two strangers," Jim butted in, stopping Tobes's rant mid-sentence.
"You could at least answer my messages," the plump teen refused to give up. "It was as if everyone was ignoring me!"
Douxie exchanged glances with Zoe and scratched his head sheepishly:
"Well, about that… Something's happened yesterday. And I'm not sure where it'll lead…"
"Please, tell me that something was a good thing," Toby begged, even though he obviously realized it hadn't been that.
"It depends," Zoe sighed. "Casperan killed a changeling."
It sounded like good news, however, Jim wasn't that oblivious to miss the mood. There were some grave consequences.
"Long story short, GDT Arcane Books isn't safe anymore," Douxie responded unhappily. "And probably the changelings want my head…"
"I don't get it," Toby looked at both magic users skeptically. "Why cannot you use all that protection magic? Just made another barrier…"
"The location is known," Zoe shook her head. "They could simply ambush us outside. Or they can track you or Jim. Do you wish to risk that much? Besides… Casperan, would you mind helping me with an explanation instead of staring at your phone?"
Everyone turned their attention to the wizard-in-training, who had withdrawn from the conversation some time ago. Whatever he was looking at wasn't anything pleasant.
"What's happened?" Jim asked, wondering if his older friend got some horrible news.
"Fuzzbuckets, I've screwed too much," Douxie muttered. "Claire's sent me a message, asking why I never bother to mention monsters to her…"
Claire. Both Jim and Douxie agreed to keep her out of everything, however…
Something had happened. Hadn't Claire been absent yesterday?
Any nice emotions regarding the recent victory evaporated at once. Apparently, the bad news just kept piling up, and who knew where those would stop…